"What are lies?" asked Habermann, sharply.
"That the mare cannot hear hurrahs," and with that he began to cry "Hurrah!" again. "You see," and he sprang off the horse, and tied it to a willow, and going off a few steps, again cried "Hurrah!" "You see, she does not budge an inch. And you"--he turned to Bräsig, who was half dead with laughter, "you told me so; but it isn't true!"
"Yes," said Bräsig, shaking all over, "but it is true, though. What I said, I say again: she cannot hear it, for the old granny has been, these five years that I have known her, stone deaf."
There stood Fritz Triddelsitz, the old clever, crafty Fritz Triddelsitz, wearing the most sheepish face imaginable.
"But," said he, at last, "Gust Prebberow is a good friend of mine, and he never told me that."
"Yes," said Bräsig, "you will know, after this, that friendship goes for nothing, in a horse trade."
"Well, never mind, Triddelsitz," said Habermann, "one can get along with a deaf horse; take care not to get a dumb one!"
"Oh!" said Fritz, quite relieved, "no fear of that! Just look at her, what a model of a horse! Full blood! And Herr von Rambow is going to buy all the colts, and when I have sold three or four----"
"Then you can buy an estate," interrupted Bräsig. "Yes, we know that, already. Now ride carefully up to the house, and don't upset your milk-pails, on the way, like the maiden. Karl, do you remember? In Gellert?"
Fritz rode off. "Good-for-nothing greyhound!" said Bräsig.