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Haus.
You answer for yourself alone. When I say 'all of you,
I know what I mean, and I mean what I say. -- There was
a young fellow at the office once, the story is nearly
ten years old now; he played a little in his &dds moments,
the choral society brought out something of his – Franz
Thomas, his name was. Well, his only child died, a boy
seven years old, bright and handsome as a picture.
I knew him, for he sometimes came with his mother to get his
father home from the office. The child died, of diphtheria,
in one night, and I went to offer my sympathy. He, the father
I mean, was sitting at the piano and playing -- playing?
The dead child was laid out in the same room, I saw it; and
he didn’t even stop playing when I came in, but just nodded
to me, and when I stood behind him he said Oftly, "Listen,
Herr Hausdorfer, that is for my poor little son. The malody
pleases me very much.” And the dead child was lying right
there in its should -- it gave me shivers, I can tell you.
Hein.
(Has been listening with visible interest and gratifica-
tion)
Yes, I can well understand how many very good men might feel
a sort of horror at such a thing.
Haus.
Herrer -- yes, that's the word for it!