The culinary specialist: It too everything, misters, it too! Measures any do not know!
The measure should be known!
- Whether so ask about a miracle? - The wanderer has told.
And at sel (slightly become tipsy, strikes a fist on a table): Mister Kogl,
Eventually, it is your grief!
The notary (chirping): Unless I refuse?
Esteffan (insists): Nevertheless as we practically will resolve...
And at sel (with majestic gesture): I do not know. Let it will be made
Itself, as well as it is necessary.
The notary: And immediately? Or you will give us time? There is not enough
The thought over miracle, it, whether know...
And at sel (uslyhav): Well, if drinking companions insist, I give to you how many
It is necessary for time!
- But for, the miracle will suffice also an instant! - the wanderer has exclaimed.
- The notary: I Listen and obey!
Ausel: I have one more desire, mister Kogl. I will state it
To you confidentially.
The notary: And we will write down... And now, - if a dessert it is finished, I
I will put you in possession hereditary property. I ask all in my office.
Wicker chairs have begun to creak. But to reach the safe and bronze
Inkwells of Mr. Koglja then it was not possible: the gate, in it has swung open
There was Damlo. He in this time has had time to become the dazzling. Shone
Buttons and a buckle, shone a sword sheath, the helmet, bulletproof shone, with
Forever the soldered in arms, with ventilating holes under a crest, shone
The varnished boots in his hand for Damlo stood on a grass barefoot, and in another
To his hand floundered, coiling, any little man. Not one wanderer saw
It before: kulinarsha, having screamed: "Oh! It it!", has tried to faint consciousness.