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Updated: May 13, 2025
Why, unless he had a purpose in it?" Maitre Voigt's two largest he-goats were butting at him to butt him out of the place, as if for that disrespectful mention of their master. So he got up and left the place. But he walked alone for a long time on the border of the lake, with his head drooped in deep thought. Between seven and eight next morning, he presented himself again at the office.
Maitre Voigt's eyes remained fixed, as if by irresistible fascination, on the brown door. Obenreizer, suspiciously observing him, looked that way too. "There is somebody listening in there!" he exclaimed, with a sharp backward glance at Bintrey. "There are two people listening," answered Bintrey. "Who are they?" "You shall see."
Maitre Voigt's room was a bright and varnished little room, with panelled walls, like a toy- chamber. According to the seasons of the year, roses, sunflowers, hollyhocks, peeped in at the windows.
Maitre Voigt's bees hummed through the office all the summer, in at this window and out at that, taking it frequently in their day's work, as if honey were to be made from Maitre Voigt's sweet disposition.
Maitre Voigt looked round again towards the brown door which led into the inner room. "Have some pity on the poor girl," pleaded Bintrey. "Remember how lately she lost her lover by a dreadful death! Will nothing move you?" "Nothing." Bintrey, in his turn, rose to his feet, and looked at Maitre Voigt. Maitre Voigt's hand, resting on the table, began to tremble.
I have already quoted Mr Voigt's description of the sol mort rouge; he says, that in places it forms entire mountains; here we have a perfect example of the same thing; and the moment we saw it, we said, here is the sol mort rouge.
"The clock-lock it is! There, my son! There you have one more of what the good people of this town call, 'Daddy Voigt's follies. With all my heart! Let those laugh who win. No thief can steal my keys. No burglar can pick my lock.
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