Every Tuesday evening begins the same old song about the fortune and letters, and the journey to Russia.

One gets very tired of it in the long-run.

At first it used to amuse me." "Do you think that Herr Fischelowitz can have gone anywhere else instead of coming home ?" asked the Cossack, finishing the glass of tea, which he had swallowed burning hot out of sheer anxiety to get away.
"Oh no, indeed," cried Akulina in a tone of the most sincere conviction.
"He always tells me where he is going.

You have no idea what a good husband he is, and what a good man--though I daresay you know that after being with us so many years.

Now, I am sure that if he had the least idea that anything had happened to the poor Count, he would run all the way home in order to hear it as soon as possible." "No more tea, thank you, Frau Fischelowitz," said Schmidt, but she took his glass with a quiet smile and shredded a fresh piece of lemon into it and filled it up again, quite heedless of his protest.