I sit down, not because I put faith in your words, but because I don't
wish to do injustice to the lunch. Get hold of Henning; he must give
an account of himself.
OLDENDORF.
But, as you heard, he is not at home.
BOLZ (_zealously eating_).
Oh, thou wilt have a fearful awakening, little Orsini! Bellmaus, pour
me out some wine. But if the story be not true, if this _Coriolanus_
have lied, by the purple in this glass be it sworn I will be his
murderer! The grimmest revenge that ever an injured journalist took
shall fall on his head; he shall bleed to death from pin-pricks; every
poodle in the street shall look on him scornfully and say: "Fie,
_Coriolanus_, I wouldn't take a bite at you even if you were a
sausage." [_A knock is heard_. BOLZ _lays down his knife.] Memento
mori_! There are our grave-diggers. The last oyster, now, and then
farewell thou lovely world!
_Enter_ JUDGE SCHWARZ _and_ SENDEN _from the door on the left; the
door remains open_.
SCHWARZ.
Obedient servant, gentlemen!
SENDEN.
Your pardon if we disturb you.
BOLZ (_remaining seated at the table_).
Not in the least. This is our regular luncheon, contracted for a whole
year--fifty oysters and two bottles daily for each member of the
staff. Whoever buys the newspaper has to furnish it.
SCHWARZ.
What brings us here, Professor, is a communication which Mr. Henning
should have been the first to make to you. He preferred handing over
the task to me.
OLDENDORF.
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