"It is not my business to look after people," the man interrupted.
"You are very insubordinate and you have encouraged those beneath you in insubordination. You are preparing for the revolution. What's your name, anyhow?"
"Napoleon Fischer," said the man. Diederich stammered. "Nap— Well, I'm damned! Are you a Social Democrat?"
"I am."
"I thought so. You're fired."
He turned round to the others. "Remember what you have seen—" And he bounced out of the room. In the yard Sötbier ran after him. "Master Diederich!" He was greatly excited, and he would not speak until the door of the private office had been closed behind him. "This won't do," said the bookkeeper, "he is a union man."—"For that very reason he is fired," replied Diederich. Sötbier explained that it would not do, because all the others would strike. Diederich could not understand this. Were they all in the Union? No. Well, then. But Sötbier explained that they were afraid of the Reds, even the older people could not be relied upon.
"I'll kick them all out!" cried Diederich, "bag and baggage, with all their belongings!"
"Then it would be a question if we could get others to take their places," said Sötbier with a pale smile, looking from under his green eye shade at his young master who was knocking the furniture about in his rage. "Am I master in my own factory or not? I will show them—"
Sötbier waited until his rage had evaporated, then he said: "You need not say anything to Fischer, he won't leave us, for he knows that it would lead to too much trouble."
Diederich flared up again: "Really! So it is not necessary for me to beg him to have the kindness to stay. Napoleon the Great! I need not invite him to dinner on Sunday, I suppose? It would be too great an honour for me!"
His face was red and swollen, the room seemed to stifle him,
