“I do that also, Herr Professor. But aside from those branches of knowledge, art also has her privileges.”
“Thertainly, I have never denied that. Do you pretend to call your nonthenthe, art? It ith an art that you will never be able to live on.”
“There’s no knowing, Herr Professor!”
“Be thtill, I tell you! If you go on at this wate you will be shipwecked soonaw or lataw in life. Knipke, go and see why Heppenheimer doeth not come back with the pedell.”
“Oh, just this once, Herr Professor,” whispered Rumpf coaxingly. “You might let me off just this once.”
“No indeed! You go to cawcer. But we will not let thith dithagreeable affair intewupt our work. Hutzler, begin the wepetition.”
“Herr Professor, I was ill when we translated this. Here is my certificate.”
“Indeed! So you were ill, ath uthual. Do you know, Hutzler, it stwikes me that you are oftener ill than well.”
“Unfortunately, Herr Professor, my delicate constitution——”
“Delicate? Eh, delicate? You don’t thay tho, Hutzler! I with every man under the sun were ath delicate ath you are. Lathy, that’s what you are, but not delicate——”