"Now, Triddelfitz," said Hawermann as soon as dinner was over, "go to your room and change your clothes, and don't forget to wrap up your grand riding-costume carefully for fear the moths should get at it, for you won't want it again during the first two years that you are here. We don't ride here, for all our work can be done on foot, and I do any riding that may be necessary myself, when it is convenient."--Fred soon returned to the parlour wearing good strong leather boots, breeches, and a sort of pilot-jacket made of grass-green cloth.--"That's better," said Hawermann, "now come with me and I will show you what we are doing."--They went out.--Next morning Fred went with seven of the young men and women who worked on the farm, along the Rahnstädt road to open any drains that were blocked up and so let the water run off wherever it had collected in pools--what made this occupation especially unpleasant was that it was a November day, and that a small persistent rain was falling.--"Hang it all!" said Fred Triddelfitz, "I never thought that it would be as bad as this." One Sunday afternoon, about a fortnight or so after his arrival, Bräsig rode up to the farm. Fred had by this time grown so far accustomed to his position with Hawermann, to his monotonous employment, and to the everlasting rain, that he was able partly to understand his duties as a farming apprentice, and with his customary good nature had begun to pay all sorts of little attentions to everyone about him. So when he saw Bräsig ride up to the door, he ran out to meet him and take his horse; but Bräsig shrieked out: "Keep away from me. Don't touch me. Keep ten feet away from me.--Let Charles Hawermann come out and speak to me."--Hawermann came: "Why don't you dismount, Bräsig?" he asked.--"Don't help me down, Charles--just fetch me a soft chair, so that I may dismount gently and gradually, and then put a sheep-skin mat or something soft beside the chair for me to step upon, for I've got that confounded gout again."--Everything was done as he wished. Foot-stools were laid from the chair to the door, and then he slid slowly and carefully from his saddle, and limped into the parlour. "Why didn't you let me know you were ill, Bräsig, and I'd have gone to see you with pleasure?"--"It wouldn't have been of any use, Charles, I had to crawl out of the hole myself. But I came to tell you that I've given up all hope."--"Of what?"--"Of marrying. I intend to accept the pension that the Count promised me."--"I think that I should do the same in your place, Bräsig."--"Your advice is very good no doubt, Charles, but it is hard for a man of my age to give up the darling wish of a life-time, and go to a water-cure place, for it's there Dr. Strump wants to send me. I don't have Dr. Strump to attend me because I believe that he knows how to cure me, but because he suffers from that wretched gout himself, and when he's sitting beside me talking