t to carry it away
with you in your coffin?"

"In my coffin!" shouted the old man, deeply agitated, and his face
suddenly turned pale. "What! In my coffin! Do you speak of coffins to
me?"

"Of course I do. Why, you've one leg in your coffin already, and
banquets, parties, and peasant-girls are dragging the other one in too,
and thus all will be mine, and I shan't owe you a thank you, for it."

"Hie! my coachman!" thundered old Karpathy, springing from his chair,
and at that moment his face wore an almost heroic expression, "get ready
my conveyance. We'll depart--depart this instant. Let nobody breathe the
air of this room any longer."

Abellino laughed aloud at the old fellow's impotent rage.

"Come, come, don't be so furious," he said. "Why echauffer yourself? You
only give the apoplexy a quicker chance. Come, come, my good old boy,
don't be waxy. I can wait, you know. I am quite a juvenile." And with
that he stretched himself at full length across three chairs, and began
to whistle a fragment of some vaudeville ditty that occurred to his
mind.

The heydukes, packing up the things, would have pulled the chairs from
under him, but the old man cried--

"Leave everything where it is; I'll touch nothing that that fellow has
had aught to do with. Landlord! Where is the man? Everything in this
room is his!"

The last words were spoken in so hoarse a voice as to be scarcely
intelligible. The jester took his master's hand to prevent him from
falling, while the poet led the way.

"You see, it is of no use kicking up a row," said Abellino, with
ironical sympathy. "Don't go so quickly or you'll fall, and that won't
be good for your health. Put on your fur pelisse lest you catch cold.
Where are his lordship's leg-warmers? Hie! you fellows! Put a warm brick
under my dear uncle's feet! Watch over every hair of his head!"

All this time John Karpathy said not a word. It was the first time in
his life that any one had dared to anger him. Ah, if any one else had
dared to do such a thing, what a scene there would have been! The
heydukes, the coachmen, stood before him trembling. Even Mr. Peter Bus
himself was speechless as he looked upon that dumb listening countenance
staring fixedly at him with bloodshot eyes. With great difficulty the
heydukes hoisted him into his carriage. The two little girls took their
places by him, one on each side. Then he beckoned the innkeeper to
approach, and murmured something in his ear in a l