She takes
the cup with the remains of his coffee and carries it into the
parlour. The TRAVELLER follows her amidst the laughter of the
weavers._
YOUNG WEAVERS
[_Singing._] "The Dreissigers the hangmen are, Servants no whit behind
them."
WELZEL
Hush-sh! Sing that song anywhere else you like, but not in my house.
FIRST OLD WEAVER
He's quite right. Stop that singin', lads.
BECKER
[_Roars._] But we must march past Dreissiger's, boys, and let him hear it
ones more.
WIEGAND
You'd better take care--you may march once too often!
[_Laughter and cries of_ Ho, ho!
_WITTIG has entered; a grey-haired old smith, bareheaded, with
leather apron and wooden shoes, sooty from the smithy. He is standing
at the counter waiting for his schnapps._
WITTIG
Let 'em go on with their doin's. The dogs as barks most, bites least.
OLD WEAVERS
Wittig, Wittig!
WITTIG
Here he is. What do you want with him?
OLD WEAVERS
"It's Wittig!"--"Wittig, Wittig!"--"Come here, Wittig."--"Sit beside us,
Wittig."
WITTIG
Do you think I would sit beside a set of rascals like you?
JAEGER
Come and take a glass with us.
WITTIG
Keep your brandy to yourselves.
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