“Yes; and I have business with her, too.”

“Well, what can we do? Go back, I suppose, Aie⁠—aie! And I was hoping to get some money!” cried the young man.

“We must give it up, of course, but what did she fix this time for? The old witch fixed the time for me to come herself. It’s out of my way. And where the devil she can have got to, I can’t make out. She sits here from year’s end to year’s end, the old hag; her legs are bad and yet here all of a sudden she is out for a walk!”

“Hadn’t we better ask the porter?”

“What?”

“Where she’s gone and when she’ll be back.”

“Hm.⁠ ⁠… Damn it all!⁠ ⁠… We might ask.⁠ ⁠… But you know she never does go anywhere.”

And he once more tugged at the door-handle.

“Damn it all. There’s nothing to be done, we must go!”