“Nothing, old man. I am a business man.”
In his monotonous tone of voice he said:
“Indeed, does it amuse you?”
“No, but what can I do? One must do something!”
“Why should one?”
“So as to have occupation.”
“What's the use of an occupation? For my part, I do nothing at all, as
you see, never anything. When one has not a sou I can understand why one
should work. But when one has enough to live on, what's the use? What
is the good of working? Do you work for yourself, or for others? If you
work for yourself, you do it for your own amusement, which is all right;
if you work for others, you are a fool.”
Then, laying his pipe on the marble table, he called out anew:
“Waiter, a 'bock.'” And continued: “It makes me thirsty to keep calling
so. I am not accustomed to that sort of thing. Yes, yes, I do nothing. I
let things slide, and I am growing old. In dying I shall have nothing
to regret. My only remembrance will be this beer hall. No wife, no
children, no cares, no sorrows, nothing. That is best.”
He then emptied the glass which had been brought him, passed his tongue
over his lips, and resumed his pipe.