So he struck a match and lit his study-lamp, and found his coat and hat and stick.

Then he paused.

He did not want to meet Dr.Wiener and Dr.Wurst that evening; he would fetch himself something to eat and drink, and be quiet.

So he slung a heavy stone jug on his arm, and, turning his lamp down to save the oil, trudged down the stairs and out into the street.
He made for the little inn at the corner, and while the fat old landlord filled his jug with the best Markgraefler, he himself picked out a couple of smoked sausages from the great pile on the counter, and wrapping them up with half a dozen pretzels, transferred the package to his capacious pocket.

Then he took the jug from the innkeeper, and having paid half a gulden for the whole supply of eatables and wine, he departed to consume them in solitude.