led him was his stock
of coffee, and as coffee was a beverage without which he deemed it
impossible to exist, he found himself in considerable perplexity.

He pondered the matter over for a long time, and ultimately persuaded
himself that, after all, the stores were the common property of all,
and that he had as much right to a share as anyone else. Accordingly, he
made his way to Ben Zoof, and, in the most amiable tone he could assume,
begged as a favor that he would let him have a pound of coffee.

The orderly shook his head dubiously.

"A pound of coffee, old Nathan? I can't say."

"Why not? You have some?" said Isaac.

"Oh yes! plenty--a hundred kilogrammes."

"Then let me have one pound. I shall be grateful."

"Hang your gratitude!"

"Only one pound! You would not refuse anybody else."

"That's just the very point, old Samuel; if you were anybody else,
I should know very well what to do. I must refer the matter to his
Excellency."

"Oh, his Excellency will do me justice."

"Perhaps you will find his justice rather too much for you." And with
this consoling remark, the orderly went to seek his master.

Rosette meanwhile had been listening to the conversation, and secretly
rejoicing that an opportunity for which he had been watching had
arrived. "What's the matter, Master Isaac? Have you parted with all your
coffee?" he asked, in a sympathizing voice, when Ben Zoof was gone.

"Ah! yes, indeed," groaned Hakkabut, "and now I require some for my own
use. In my little black hole I cannot live without my coffee."

"Of course you cannot," agreed the professor.

"And don't you think the governor ought to let me have it?"

"No doubt."

"Oh, I must have coffee," said the Jew again.

"Certainly," the professor assented. "Coffee is nutritious; it warms the
blood. How much do you want?"

"A pound. A pound will last me for a long time."

"And who will weigh it for you?" asked Rosette, scarcely able to conceal
the eagerness that prompted the question.

"Why, they will weigh it with my steelyard, of course. There is no other
balance here." And as the Jew spoke, the professor fancied he could
detect the faintest of sighs.

"Good, Master Isaac; all the better for you! You will get your seven
pounds instead of one!"

"Yes; well, seven, or thereabouts--thereabouts," stammered the Jew with
considerable hesitation.

Rosette scanned his countenance narrowly, and was about to probe him
with further questions,