's. It
was at once Bohemian and cosmopolitan, and, once inside, it was easy to
imagine oneself in Vienna. A Hungarian orchestra occupied an inclosed
platform, and every night the wail of the violin and the pom-pom of the
wool-tipped hammers on the Hungarian "piano" might be heard.

It was essentially a man's place of entertainment; few women ever had
the courage or the inclination to enter. In America it would have been
the fashion; but in the capital of Barscheit the women ate in the
restaurant above, which was attached to the hotel, and depended upon
the Volksgarten band for their evening's diversion.

You had to order your table hours ahead--that is, if you were a
civilian. If you were lucky enough to be an officer, you were
privileged to take any vacant chair you saw. But Heaven aid you if you
attempted to do this not being an officer! In Barscheit there were
also many unwritten laws, and you were obliged to observe these with
all the fidelity and attention that you gave to the enameled signs.
Only the military had the right to request the orchestra to repeat a
piece of music. Sometimes the lieutenants, seized with that gay humor
known only to cubs, would force the orchestra in Mueller's to play the
Hungarian war-song till the ears cried out in pain. This was always
the case when any Austrians happened to be present. But ordinarily the
crowds were good-natured, boisterous, but orderly.

It was here, then, that I had arranged to give my little dinner. The
orchestra had agreed--for a liberal tip--to play _The Star-Spangled
Banner_, and there was a case of Doppelkinn's sparkling Moselle. I may
as well state right here that we neither heard our national anthem nor
drank the vintage. You will soon learn why. I can laugh now, I can
treat the whole affair with becoming levity, but at the time I gained
several extra grey hairs.

If the princess hadn't turned around, and if Max hadn't wanted that box
of Havanas!

When I arrived at Mueller's I found my boys in a merry mood. They were
singing softly from _Robin Hood_ with fine college harmony, and as I
entered they swarmed about me like so many young dogs. Truth to tell,
none of them was under twenty, and two or three were older than myself.
But to them I represented official protection for whatever they might
do. I assumed all the dignity I dared. I had kept Scharfenstein's
name back as a surprise.

Ellis--for whom I had the passports--immediately stru