To-day I have received news of the death of my relative, Aunt Lies. She
has made me her heir. Old acquaintances, who have not troubled
themselves about me for twenty years, congratulate me upon my
inheritance. But I have heard no further particulars. How much can the
old lady have had? I know she was rich, but she wasted everything in
games of chance.
And should it be only one groschen, or, indeed, nothing at all--by my
soul, I am pleased that she thought of me. She always meant well by me.
Now my last relative is dead.