Part 89 (1/2)
”Wonder of wonders!” cried the old man, ”the inspector!”
”Yes, Moses, you must not take it ill. I could not help it, I must speak with you confidentially about a matter of business.”
”Go out, David!”
David made a sour face, but went.
”It isn't of much use,” said Moses, ”he will stand at the door, and listen.”
”Never mind, Moses, I cannot say to you what I would here. Can you not come with me to my house?”
”Habermann, I am an old man.”
”Yes, indeed, I know it; but the air is mild, the moon is risen; I will take you by the arm; yes, Moses, I will carry you, if you say so.”
”Well, what is it, then?”
”Moses, I cannot tell you here; you must hear with your own ears, and see with your own eyes. You can do a good work.”
”Habermann, you are an honest man, you have always been a friend to me, you will do what is right. Call David.”
Habermann opened the door; to be sure, there he stood:
”Herr Inspector, you must not take my father out tonight, he is an old man.”
”David!” cried the old man, ”bring me my fur boots!”
”Father! you mustn't go! I will call mother.”
”Call mother, if you want to, I shall go.”
”What are you going to do?”
”Transact important business.”
”Then I will go too.”
”David, you are too young; bring me the boots.”
There was no help for it, David must bring them and put them on; Habermann took the old man firmly by the arm, Moses took his usual grip in his left coat-pocket, on account of the lacking suspender, and, leaning on Habermann's arm, hobbled slowly over to the Frau Pastorin's house.
As Habermann and old Moses crossed the Frau Pastorin's threshold, they made something of a noise, for Moses stumbled at the door, and came near falling. Frau Pastorin, of course, heard the commotion, as did the whole company with her; ”Ah, there comes Habermann with poor Mining,”
said she, and running to the door put out her head; but when she expected to see Mining, though perhaps with a swelled cheek, there stood old Moses in his dressing-gown, and fur boots, with his old face full of wrinkles, and looking at her with his great black eyes:
”Good evening, Frau Pastorin!”
The little Frau Pastorin started back, almost to the middle of the room; ”Preserve us!” cried she, ”Habermann is carrying on all sorts of magic and unchristian preformances; now he is bringing his old Jew into the house, at midnight; is this on account of Mining's toothache?”
Frau Nusssler felt as if she were standing in her kitchen, dressing fish, and had just taken hold of a great pike, and the creature had snapped at her thumb, and was pressing his teeth deeper and deeper into her flesh, and she must keep still, else he would tear open her whole thumb. What had possessed Frau Nussler to tell a story, and such a story, which might come out any moment!