The auctioneer came up to the landlord, who was listening to all these remarks with perfect indifference, and asked him: "How _could_ you say that, Mr. Pomuchelskopp, how _could_ you?"--"Yes," said one of the men who had come with him, "these people are right, you should be ashamed of yourself for having aimed another blow at a man who is selling everything he has honestly, that he may meet and pay off all his debts."--"Ah," said the auctioneer, "if that were all. Mr. Hawermann's wife died yesterday, and is lying upstairs on her last bed, and so he is left alone in the world with a little girl, and _what_ prospects?"--"I didn't know that," muttered Pomuchelskopp sullenly. The murmur of disapprobation now spread from the crowd to the landlord's companions, and in a few moments more, Mr. Pomuchelskopp was left alone, all the men who had accompanied him having ridden away to the other side of the yard. The auctioneer now approached Hawermann and said: "You wanted to speak to me Mr. Hawermann?"--"Yes--yes," replied the farmer slowly, he seemed to be coming to himself again like a martyr when he has been removed from the rack. "I wished to ask you if you will also sell the few things that remain to me by law, at the auction. I mean the bed and the other things."--"With pleasure, but the furniture has sold badly, the people have no money, and if you really want to sell those things, it would be better to do so by private bargain."--"I haven't time for that, and I'm badly in want of the money."--"Well if you really wish it, I'll manage it for you," and then the auctioneer went about his business again.