"I am walking without any purpose, just where my legs carry me."
"Well, my good man, help me to carry off these sacks; some caroller has left them here in the midst of the road. We will divide the booty between us."
"And what is there in the sacks? rolls or loaves?"
"Plenty of everything, I should think." And both hastily snatched sticks out of a palisade, laid one of the sacks upon them, and carried it away on their shoulders.
"Where shall we carry it? to the brandy shop?" asked the weaver, leading the way.
"I thought, too, of carrying it there; but the vile Jewess will not give us credit; she will think we have stolen it somewhere, the more so that I have just left her shop. We had better carry it to my cottage. Nobody will interfere with us; my wife is not at home."
"Art thou sure that she is not at home?" asked the weaver warily.
"Thank Heaven, I am not yet out of my mind," answered the kinsman; "what should I do there if she were at home? I expect she will ramble about all night with the women."
"Who is there!" cried the kinsman's wife, hearing the noise which the two friends made in coming into the passage with the sack.
The kinsman was quite aghast.