Bräsig came in: "How-d'ye-do, Charles," he said.--"What?" cried Hawermann, starting up, "I thought you were laid up with gout, and was just meditating paying you a visit, but the difficulty was that Mr. von Rambow is from home, and Triddelfitz isn't to be trusted just now."--"Why, what's the matter with him?"--"Oh, his old mare is going to foal very soon."--"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Bräsig. "The thoroughbred foal that he's going to sell to the squire."--"Yes. But tell me, hav'n't you had another attack of gout?"--"Well, Charles, it's very difficult to tell whether one has had the real thing or not. But it comes to much the same thing in the long run, for one's suff'ring is quite as severe in the one case as in the other. The only great difference is in the _cause_. You see _real_ gout is brought on by good eating and drinking, and what I had wasn't quite the right kind, for it was caused by wearing wretched thin-soled patent leather boots."--"What on earth makes you wear such things then?"--"I had them when I was in the Count's service, and I can't throw them away. But what I wanted to say was this: have you seen the parson today?"--"Yes."--"Well, how is he?"--"He looks ill, and is very weak; when he got into the pulpit the perspiration stood in great beads on his forehead from the exertion, and he had to rest quietly on the sofa for some time after he went home."--"Hm! Hm!" sighed Bräsig, shaking his head. "I'm sorry to hear that, Charles, but we must remember that he's an old man now."--"Yes, that's true," said Hawermann thoughtfully.--"How's your little girl?" asked Bräsig.--"She's very well, thank you, Zachariah. She was here last week, but I had no time to speak to her, as I had to go and see to the sowing of the corn. Mrs. von Rambow saw her though, and called her into the house where she kept her till the evening."--"Charles," said Bräsig, and getting up from his chair he walked up und down the room, biting the mouth-piece of his pipe so hard in his excitement that the knob broke short off, "believe me, your squire's wife is a capital product of humanity."--Hawermann also rose and paced the room. Every time the old friends passed each other in their walk they gave their pipes a vehement puff, and Bräsig said: "Well, Charles, am I not right?" and Hawermann answered: "Quite right, Zachariah."--Who knows how long they would have gone on repeating this question and answer, if a carriage had not driven up to the door, and Kurz and the rector made their appearance.