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Updated: June 6, 2025
'It is not fair that he should lose his money. She could not help speaking a good word for her old friend. 'Give him forty to buy a new one. He has been honest, very honest. Hilda sighed, thinking, perhaps, of all the pain that might have been spared, if Wastei had put the letter into the fire, instead of giving it to Berbel.
'Take that, Wastei, and here is your liquor. Wastei nodded carelessly, slipped the money into his waistcoat pocket, drank a quarter of the bottle of cherry spirits at a draught, and touching his cap was out of the door before Rex could speak again. 'Did you ever see that fellow before? Rex asked of the servant. 'No, sir, the man answered rather stiffly. 'I am not from these parts.
As she was about to leave the room a thought crossed her mind, and she stopped. 'Berbel, she said, 'my mother must never know that this has been found, or at least, you must never speak of it to her or to any one, and you must tell Wastei to hold his tongue. She has had sorrow enough in her life, and we need not add any more, now that she is so happy. 'Good, answered Berbel.
'There is certainly something in what you say, answered Berbel. 'I am not surprised that you got it so cheap. You understand a bargain, I see. 'And you will be glad, too, Frau Berbel, when you have to explain how the letter was found, said Wastei thoughtfully.
'Better burn it, suggested Wastei, pulling out a match-box, and fumbling in his unfamiliar pockets for the letter. 'I am not sure of that, said Berbel, who knew that if she insisted, he would destroy it in spite of her. 'After all, Wastei, it is neither yours nor mine. 'I bought it with the coat.
'Better leave dead people alone, she answered, thoughtfully rubbing the mole on her chin. 'In God's peace, said Wastei, lifting his small hat from his head. 'Or wherever else they may be, he added, putting it on again. There was a pause, during which Berbel reflected upon the situation, and Wastei leaned back against the grey wall, watching a hawk that was circling above the distant crags.
They were better off now, both she and Wastei, but as she looked at the broad expanse of black velvet that covered his square, flat back, she remembered the days when he had come ragged to the back door to throw down a good meal of game upon the kitchen table, going off the next minute with nothing but a bit of black bread in prospect for his supper.
He would have shot me for a poacher, if he could, Frau Berbel. Well, I have got his coat, with his own mark on it. Berbel shuddered slightly, strong though she was. She liked Wastei, but she had often guessed that there was a latent ferocity in him which would come out some day. 'And how could the coat have come to the Jew's shop? she asked, after a pause.
He was no longer arrayed in his magnificent velvet coat as on the previous day. Such finery was only for the greatest festivities, and at present he wore no jacket at all, but a rough waistcoat with metal buttons, which hung loose and open over his shirt, and he had a bundle under his arm. 'Good morning, Wastei, answered Berbel, fixing her sharp eyes upon him with a look of inquiry.
'Oh, if you are in a hurry, you may take the bundle without any explanation, replied Wastei, holding it out towards her. Berbel took it, and felt it, as though trying to guess what it contained. 'What is it? she asked at length, as her imagination failed to suggest the nature of the contents. 'It is my coat, said Wastei. 'The old wolf's coat, if you like it better.
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