r entry into the
capital," said John.

"They are numerous, but not more so than we deserve," replied Mr. Anson
in the same vein.

It was midnight when they reached Vienna. John bade farewell to Kempner,
his companion of the journey to whom he had been strongly attracted, and
after the slight customs examination drove away with Mr. Anson to a
modest hotel.

It was so late and he was so tired that he thought he would sleep
heavily. But sleep passed him by, and it was such a rare thing that John
was troubled greatly. What was the matter with him? It could not be all
those sounds of shouting and singing that were floating in at the open
window! He had slept many a time at home, when the crowds were cheering
continuously on election night.

The noise increased, although it was at least two in the morning. He had
always heard that Vienna was a gay city, and never slept, but he had
scarcely expected such an ebullient night life, and, his curiosity
aroused, he rose and dressed.

From his seat at the window he heard the singing much more plainly, and
far down the avenue he saw columns of marching men. He could not
understand the words they sang, but he knew from the beat of the music
that they were Austrian and German patriotic songs, and his curiosity
increasing, he went down into the street, nodding to the dozing porter
who stood at the door.

He found the streets thronged with a multitude constantly growing
larger, and vivid with a pleased excitement. He had no doubt that it was
the war with the little Balkan state that caused it all, and he could
not refrain from silent criticism of a great nation which made so much
ado over a struggle with a country that it outnumbered enormously. But
he recalled that the Viennese were a gay, demonstrative people, and
their excitement and light-heartedness were certainly infectious.

He was sorry again that he could not speak German, and then he was glad,
when he saw young Kempner leaning against a closed window watching the
parades. "I suppose that like me you couldn't sleep," he said in French.

Kempner started. He had not seen John's approach, and, for the moment,
John almost thought that the look he gave him was not one of welcome.
But it passed swiftly. Then he stretched out his hand and replied.

"No, I couldn't. If you who come from across the sea wish to witness the
enthusiasm of my countrymen how much more would it appeal to me?"

"Has anything definite happened?"

"Y