To what this last sigh referred is not quite clear to us although it was so to Hans Unwirrsch, who firmly believed that it was occasioned by his mother's illness, and so, deeply touched, he took leave, for the time being, of the good professor.
During this time Uncle Grünebaum of course often found the opportunity to show himself in all his greatness. He came and went constantly and the house in Kröppel Street was not safe from him for a minute. Now he appeared in the door so suddenly that the sick woman started in her bed, now his dignified head darkened the window beside Hans' writing table so suddenly that the young man jumped up startled from his seat to gaze at the apparition. If it had not been for Auntie Schlotterbeck Uncle Grünebaum would have become a nuisance, but the thoughtful soul finally organized a regular watch service and more than one child in Kröppel Street received orders to give a warning sign when Master Grünebaum turned the corner. When the alarm sounded Auntie Schlotterbeck always went and stood at the door to intercept the uncle and send him home again by means of cunning, or sometimes to lead him into her own little room. And thither Hans was then ordered to receive his uncle's words of consolation and advice.
"So she is still no better? So sorry, it's too bad! But that's the way it goes in the world and if one man has to complain of his tobacco, the other has trouble with his pipe. We all have to come to this thing; but it has a curious way about it. Now, there sits Auntie Schlotterbeck, a worn-out, miserable person, nothing but bones in a leather sack and, if you won't take it amiss, my saying so, Mistress Schlotterbeck, for the last twenty years I have thought from day to day that you would go out like a tallow candle. But now, there lies my sister, who was a remarkably robust woman, near to death, and you, Auntie, you keep on glimmering as if it were a matter of course and after all, perhaps you'll outlive even me and see me running round in the streets as a spirit in a white shirt and with three pairs of old boots under each arm. I'm ready to believe anything of you now. Oh dear, dear, Hans, what is man? What does he not have to endure in his life? Such great hunger——"
"And such very great thirst," threw in Auntie Schlotterbeck.
"That too, Miss Schlotterbeck," continued Uncle Grünebaum with dignity, though not without showing some annoyance. "Such great hunger and—thirst, that no angel who has not tried it would believe. What does a man do when he has come to his years of discretion?"
"Sometimes he takes to drinking," grunted Auntie Schlotterbeck.
"He hungers and desires everything that hangs too high for him," snarled Uncle Grünebaum furiously. "Whoever asks too much deserves to get nothing; but whoever asks little certainly will get nothing at all. There was your father, boy; he had the most ludicrous kind of hunger and he asked too much as well; he wanted to be a cobbler and a scholar at the same time. What came of it? Nothing! Now, here is your dear Uncle Nik'las, who was gifted with too great modesty and asked nothing but his daily bread——"
"And the Red Ram and the political newspaper!" interposed Auntie Schlotterbeck again. "And as he liked to sit in the Red Ram better than on his work stool and as he liked better to whistle to his birds than to work and as he read the Post Courier in preference to the hymn-book, he comes here now and asks, what came of it and then actually wonders if the answer is again: nothing."
"Miss Schlotterbeck," replied Uncle Grünebaum, "you may impress some poor donkey that comes along, but can't impress me. I have enough of you for this time and I wish you good evening. It's enough to make me foreswear all Kröppel Street! Go to your mother, Hans, give her my love and my excuses that I could not see her this time, on account of excitement and inadequate self-control. I thank you, Auntie Schlotterbeck, for your pleasant entertainment and wish you, if it is possible, a clear conscience and a good night's rest!"