"My dear Gottlieb," said the pastor, "a good Christian——"
"Johann," interrupted the cotton-spinner, addressing the returning footman and observing that the engine went more slowly, "take a bottle of hock and some cakes into the summer-house. Martin——" He tapped Boehme's shoulder with his heavy hand and guffawed.
On their way into the garden a wretched-looking woman stopped them and threw herself at their feet.
"Please, sir, give me three roubles for the funeral," she sobbed.
Adler calmly drew away.
"Go to the publican," he said; "that's where your fool of a husband wastes his money."
"Business matters are attended to in the office, not here," interrupted Adler. "Go there."
"I have been there, sir, but they turned me out."
Again she stretched out her arms to embrace his feet.