It's long been known
what sort of a fellow you are. The magistrates knows all about that
rebellious tongue o' yours, I know who'll drink wife and child into the
poorhouse an' himself into gaol before long, who it is that'll go on
agitatin' and agitatin' till he brings down judgment on himself and all
concerned.
WITTIG
[_Laughs bitterly._] It's true enough--no one knows what'll be the end of
it. You may be right yet. [_Bursts out in fury._] But if it does come to
that, I know who I've got to thank for it, who it is that's blabbed to
the manufacturers an' all the gentlemen round, an' blackened my character
to that extent that they never give me a hand's turn of work to do--an'
set the peasants an' the millers against me, so that I'm often a whole
week without a horse to shoe or a wheel to put a tyre on. I know who's
done it. I once pulled the damned brute off his horse, because he was
givin' a little stupid boy the most awful flogging for stealin' a few
unripe pears. But I tell you this, Kutsche, and you know me--if you get
me put into prison, you may make your own will. If I hears as much as a
whisper of it. I'll take the first thing as comes handy, whether it's a
horseshoe or a hammer, a wheel-spoke or a pail; I'll get hold of you if
I've to drag you out of bed from beside your wife, and I'll beat in your
brains, as sure as my name's Wittig.
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