In an equable tone of voice, he said;
"Indeed ... does that amuse you?"
"No, but what do you mean to assert? Surely you must do something!"
"What do you mean by that?"
"I only mean, how do you pass your time!"
"What's the use of occupying myself with anything. For my part, I do nothing at all, as you see, never anything. When one has not got a sou one can understand why one has to go to work. What is the good of working? Do you work for yourself, or for others? If you work for yourself you do it for your own amusement, which is all right; if you work for others, you reap nothing but ingratitude."
Then sticking his pipe into his whiskers, he called out anew:
"Waiter, a 'bock.' It makes me thirsty to keep calling so. I am not accustomed to that sort of thing. Yes, yes, I do nothing; I let things slide, and I am growing old. In dying I have nothing to regret. If so, I should remember nothing, outside this public house. I have no wife, no children, no cares, no sorrows, nothing. That is the very best thing that could happen to one."
He then emptied the glass which had meanwhile been fetched to him, passed his tongue over his lips, and resumed his pipe.
I looked at him stupefied. I asked him: