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"Our poor Count Fritz is going fast," said old Doctor Swoboda every time that he returned from Schneeburg to Rautschin and stopped at the inn to drink a glass of beer; this time he remarked it to Herr Alexander Cibulka, who always took a lively interest in Schneeburg.
"Ah, indeed? Well, he has not much to lose in this life," rejoined Eugene Alexander, "if I had to depend for my living upon alms, as he does, I'd put a bullet through my brains! " and Herr Cibulka ran his stubby fingers through his bushy hair. He was very proud of such unfeeling expressions, which he considered, Heaven only knows why, as particularly fashionable. "And how is the Conte Capriani? " he continued, "and the charming Ad'lin, -- a superb creature, eh? " and Eugene Alexander affectedly wafted abroad a kiss from his finger tips.