'I have had a drop, but I had not been drinking,' the man replied,
triumphing in a sound distinction. 'And if I had, what then?
Nobody hangs by me. But my mill is standing idle, and I blame it on
your wife. Am I alone in that? Go round and ask. Where are the
mills? Where are the young men that should be working? Where is
the currency? All paralysed. No, sir, it is not equal; for I
suffer for your faults - I pay for them, by George, out of a poor
man's pocket. And what have you to do with mine? Drunk or sober, I
can see my country going to hell, and I can see whose fault it is.
And so now, I've said my say, and you may drag me to a stinking
dungeon; what care I? I've spoke the truth, and so I'll hold hard,
and not intrude upon your Highness's society.'

And the miller reined up and, clumsily enough, saluted.

'You will observe, I have not asked your name,' said Otto. 'I wish
you a good ride,' and he rode on hard. But let him ride as he
pleased, this interview with the miller was a chokepear, which he
could not swallow. He had begun by receiving a reproof in manners,
and ended by sustaining a defeat in logic, both from a man whom he
despised. All his old thoughts returned with fresher venom. And by
three in the afternoon, coming to the cross-roads for Beckstein,
Otto decided to turn aside and dine there leisurely. Nothing at
least could be worse than to go on as he was going.

In the inn at Beckstein he remarked, immediately upon his entrance,
an intelligent young gentleman dining, with a book in front of him.
He had his own place laid close to the reader, and with a proper
apology, broke ground by asking what he read.