"He shall be christened after three fellow-craftsmen. He shall be called Johannes like the poet in Nuremberg, and Jakob like the highly honored philosopher of Goerlitz, and the two names shall be to him as two wings on which to rise from the earth to the blue sky and take his share of light. But as a third name I will give him Nikolaus so that he may always know that he has a true friend and protector on earth, one to whom he can turn when I am no longer here." "I call that a sentence with a head full of sense and reason, and a clumsy, ridiculous tail. Give him the names and it will be an honor for all three of us, but keep away from me with those old foolish notions of death. You're not fat, to be sure, and you couldn't exactly knock an ox down with your bare fist either; but you can draw the pitch-thread through the leather for many a long year yet, you ruminating bookworm." Master Unwirrsch shook his head and changed the subject, and the two brothers-in-law discussed this and that with each other till it had grown perfectly dark in the storeroom. Somebody knocked at the door, and Master Grünebaum called: "Who is there? No womenfolk will be admitted." "It's I," called a voice outside. "Who?" "I!" "It's Auntie Schlotterbeck," said Unwirrsch. "Push the bolt back; we've sat up here long enough; perhaps I may see the wife again now." His brother-in-law obeyed, growling, and the light from Auntie Schlotterbeck's lamp shone into the room. "Here they are, really. Well, come along, you heroes; the women have gone. Creep out. Your wife, Master Unwirrsch? Yes, she is well taken care of; she is sleeping and you mustn't disturb her; but I've a piece of news that you shall hear and thank God. At the house of the Jew, Freudenstein, across the street, the same thing happened today as in this house; but it wasn't quite the same. The child is alive--a boy, too, but Blümchen Freudenstein is dead, and there is great lamentation over there. Praise the Lord, Master Unwirrsch; and you, Master Grünebaum, go home. Come, come, Unwirrsch, don't stand there so dumbfounded; death enters, or passes by, according to God's command. I feel as if I'd been broken on the wheel, and am going to bed. Good night to you both." Auntie Schlotterbeck disappeared behind her door, the two masters stole downstairs on tiptoe, and in the public-house which he frequented regularly, Uncle Grünebaum had far less to say that evening about politics, municipal and other affairs than usual. Master Unwirrsch lay all night without closing his eyes; the infant screamed mightily, and it was no wonder that these unaccustomed tones kept the father awake and stirred up a whirling throng of hopes and cares and drove it in a wild chase through his heart and head.