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Updated: June 6, 2025
'You will be glad to have the coat in your hands to show, and if they like, they can go to the Jew and he will tell them that I bought it only the other day. 'You are quite sure you are telling the truth, Wastei? 'I always do, now that I have a gun license, he answered.
'Not much, as you say, assented Berbel, keeping her eye upon him. 'Or an old letter, either, said Wastei with perfect indifference. 'That depends on the person to whom it is addressed. 'A live son is better than a dead father. A message from the dead wolf would not make the christening of his grandson any merrier, would it, Frau Berbel?
It was evident that nothing would be done on that day, and it was probable that Greif would stay at home. Berbel turned away and went towards the entrance of the hall. She was about to go in when she heard footsteps behind her, and on looking round saw Wastei striding up with his long, greyhound step. 'God greet you, Frau Berbel, he said, coming nearer.
It is a simple question. 'Very simple, Master Wastei, answered Berbel, stiffening her stiff neck a little. 'So simple that it is of no use to think about it, nor even to ask it. When do you want your coat back? 'I want a coat, but not that one whenever you please. But do not hurry yourself, for I shall not catch cold, and my sweetheart does not care whether I have one or not.
It seemed as though circumstances pointed clearly to the course she had intended to pursue, for since Wastei had brought her the coat it was no longer possible to put off the execution of her purpose. She determined to obtain an interview with Hilda as soon as possible and to place both the garment and the letter in her hands.
'There is a spot on the collar here. Wastei moved closer to her and presented himself sideways to Berbel pointing out the place with his finger. 'The Jew said it was from a rusty nail, or that it might be an ink-spot but he is only a Jew. That is not rust, nor ink, Frau Berbel. That is the old wolf's last blood on the right side, just under the ear.
She wondered why he had come. 'I have brought you something, he remarked, standing still before her, and tapping the bundle he carried with one hand. 'More trout? inquired Berbel with a twitching smile. 'There is no gold to be picked up to-day, Master Wastei. 'Unfortunately, he answered. 'But then one can never know, he added reflectively.
I can burn it if I like, said Wastei, striking a match and watching the white flame in the sunshine. 'Of course you can, if you like, replied Berbel unmoved. 'Well, if you want it, there it is, he said, throwing away the match and handing her the letter. 'Do not spoil the christening with it, Frau Berbel.
Three words would have sufficed, but he had passed more than half an hour very agreeably in Berbel's company. And Berbel, little guessing the tremendous import of what she held in her hand, had been interested by the long story. It did not enter her mind that the letter could be anything but a word of affectionate farewell, at the time Wastei gave it into her keeping.
Well, well, those times are gone now, and if I ever shot a hare or a roebuck without lead, or pulled the trout out of the stream without making a hole in his nose, why I have forgotten it, and I will not do it again, I promise you. I am growing old, Frau Berbel, I am growing old. 'And wise, I hope 'When a man is young he can do without a gun license, observed Wastei.
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