The apothecary is out of her mind. She insults the memory of Gustav with her silly speculations, yet she gets upset when I reply with unkind words. She believes the rumours spread by the same little wretch who, not long ago, was so bent on slandering her.
I yielded to her wishes of keeping certain companies, after all it is not my place to tell her who she can and can't spend time with. But instead of going ahead and having it her way, what does she do? She tries to drag me into that. No.
That was stupid of me, trying to mend the torn shirt with her, the proud fool that she is. But it did serve a purpose: now I know what the little wretch is up to. And she will get her share.
If water or sand won't extinguish the fire, let there be dry wood and charcoal.
