The author’s empty skull shook sadly.
“Just look how he is embracing her! They are living an easy life!” exclaimed the devil.
“Yes. Is that clerk a rich man?”
“No, he was poorer than I, but your wife is rich.”
“My wife? Where did she get the money from?”
“From the sale of your books!”
“Oh!” said the author and shook his bare and empty skull. “Oh! Then it simply means that I have worked for a certain clerk?”
“I confess it looks that way,” the devil chimed in merrily.
The author looked at the ground and said to the devil: “Take me back to my grave!”
... It was late. A rain fell, heavy clouds hung in the sky, and the author rattled his bones as he marched rapidly to his grave.... The devil walked behind him and whistled merrily.