You're no better'n he; you don't do no different! An' the poor
women--they dies of it! [_Dissolved in self-pitying tears._] Well, let
'em die!

_SIEBENHAAR gives a short laugh with an undertone of seriousness,
steps up to the table and opens one of the bottles of wine
resignedly._

HENSCHEL

[_Sitting on the edge of the bed speaks soothingly_] Mother, mother--you
turn over now an' I'll say a word to you in kindness. [_He turns her over
with kindly violence._] Look at it this way, mother: You've been havin' a
dream. You dreamed--that's it! Our little dog, he dreams queer things too
now an' then. You c'n see it. But now wake up, mother! Y'understan'? The
stuff you been talkin'--if a man wanted to make a load o' that the
strongest freight waggon'd break down. My head's fair spinnin' with it.

SIEBENHAAR

[_Having looked for and found a glass which he now fills._] And then you
raked me over the coals too!

HENSCHEL

Don't take no offence, sir. A woman like that! A man has his troubles
with her.--Now you hurry up, mother, an' get well, or some fine day
you'll be tellin' me I been to Bolkenhain an' stole horses.