his airy way, "que vient faire la le drole?"

The music had come to an end, and the spectacled professor had retired
amidst a thunder of applause. His successor, who had attracted
Calabressa's attention, was a gentleman who had mounted on a high easel
an immense portfolio of cartoons roughly executed in crayon; and as he
exhibited them one by one, he pointed out their characteristics with a
long stick, after the manner of a showman. His demeanor was serious; his
face was grave; his tone was simple and business-like. But as he
unfolded these rude drawings, Calabressa, who understood but little
German, was more and more astonished to find the guttural laughter
around him increase and increase until the whole place resounded with
roars, while some of the old Herren held their sides in pain, as the
tears of the gigantic mirth streamed down their cheeks. Those who were
able hammered loud applause on the table before them; others rolled in
their chairs; many could only lie back and send their merriment up to
the reverberating roof in shrill shrieks and yells.

"In the name of Heaven, what is it all about?" said Calabressa. "Have
the people gone mad?"

"Illustrations of German proverbs," said Beratinsky, who, despite his
surly manner, was himself forced to smile.

Well, Calabressa had indeed come here to talk about Lind's daughter; but
it was impossible, amidst this wild surging to and fro of Olympian
laughter. At last, however, the showman came to an end of his cartoons,
and solemnly made his bow, and amidst tumultuous cheering resumed his
place among his companions.

There was a pause, given over to chatter and joking, and Calabressa
quickly embraced this opportunity.

"You are a friend of the little Natalushka--of the beautiful Natalie, I
should say, perhaps?"

"Lind's daughter does not choose to have many friends," said Beratinsky,
curtly.

This was not promising; and, indeed, the corpulent little Pole showed
great disinclination to talk about the young lady who had so laid hold
of Calabressa's heart. But Calabressa was not to be denied, when it was
the welfare of the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi that was concerned.

"Yes, yes, friend Beratinsky, of course she is very much alone. It is
rather a sad thing for a young girl to be so much alone."

"And if she chooses to be alone?" said Beratinsky, with a sharpness that
resembled the snarl of a terrier.

Perhaps it was to get rid of the topic that Beratinsky here