Brauer.
Certainly, Pastor!
Pastor.
This young gentleman, your nephew, is especially close to the family,
is he not?
Brauer.
Correct!
Pastor.
Pardon me, but may I ask in what way?
Brauer.
I will tell you. Pastor. It was in the year '67, when we had here in
East Prussia, a terrible drought--a year of distress and--do you
remember anything about it?
Pastor.
Very little, as I was then still quite young.
Brauer.
Ah, it was terrible! Potatoes and fodder rotted before ripening. Of
wheat and rye hardly a trace. We farmers, I tell you--! Then it was,
when my brother-in-law, the husband of my sainted sister, whose estates
were in the neighboring township yonder, realized one day his financial
ruin and with all his aristocratic pride--you understand--he saw no
other way--he resorted to the pistol--he committed suicide.
Pastor.
And the--your sister, still lives?
Brauer.