The vintner
joined the demonstration, banging his stein as lustily as the next one.
"Have you thought what this marriage will cost us in taxes?"
"What?"
"Thousands of crowns, thousands! Do we not always pay for the luxuries
of the rich? Do not their pleasures grind us so much deeper into the
dirt? Yes, we are the corn they grind. And shall we submit, like the
dogs in Flanders, to become beasts of burden?"
"No, no!"
"I have a plan, brothers; it will show the duke to what desperation he
has driven us at last. We will mob the Jugendheit embassy on the day of
the wedding; we will tear it apart, brick by brick, stone by stone."
"Hurrah!" cried the noisy ones. They liked talk of this order. They knew
it was only here that great things happened, the division of riches and
mob-rule. Beer was cheaper by the keg.
The noise subsided. Gretchen spoke.
"Her serene highness will not marry the king of Jugendheit."
Every head swung round in her direction.
"What is that you say?" demanded Herr Goldberg.
Gretchen repeated her statement. It was the first time she had ever
raised her voice in the councils.
"Oh, indeed!" said Goldberg, bowing with ridicule: "Since when did her
serene highness make you her confidante?"
"Her serene highness told me so herself.
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