joined in a
clamorous call for "Nageli! Nageli!" Presently a fresh-colored young
Switzer, laughing and blushing tremendously, went up to the platform and
took his seat at the piano, and struck a few noisy chords. It was a
Tyrolese song he sung, with a jodel refrain of his own invention:

"Hat einer ein Schatzerl,
So bleibt er dabei,
Er nimmt sie zum Weiberl,
Und liebt sie recht treu.
Dann fangt man die Wirthschaft
Gemeinschaftlich an,
Und liebt sich, und herzt sich
So sehr als man kann!"

Great cheering followed the skilfully executed jodel. In the midst of
it, one of the members rose and said, in German,

"Meine Herren! You know our good friend Nageli is going to leave us;
perhaps we shall not see him again for many years. I challenge you to
drink this toast: 'Nageli, and his quick return!' I say to him what some
of the shopkeepers in our Father-land say to their customers, 'Kommen
Sie bald wieder!'"

Here there was a great shouting of "Nageli! Nageli!" until one started
the chorus, which was immediately and sonorously sung by the whole
assemblage,

"Hoch soll er leben!
Hoch soll er leben!
Dreimal hoch!"

Another pause, chiefly devoted to the ordering of Hochheimer and the
lighting of fresh cigars. The souls of the sons of the Father-land were
beginning to warm.

"Friend Beratinsky," said the anxious-hearted albino, "perhaps you know
that many years ago I knew the mother of Natalie Lind; she was a
neighbor--a companion--of mine: and I am interested in the little one. A
young girl sometimes has need of friends. Now, you are in a position--"

"Friend Calabressa, you may save your breath," said the other, coldly.
"The young lady might have had my friendship if she had chosen. She did
not choose. I suppose she is old enough--and proud enough--to choose her
own friends. Yes, yes, friend Calabressa, I have heard. But we will say
nothing more: now listen to this comical fellow."

Calabressa was not thinking of the young Englishman who now sat down at
the piano; a strange suspicion was beginning to fill his mind. Was it
possible, he began inwardly to ask, that Vincent Beratinsky had himself
aspired to marry the beautiful Hungarian girl?

This good-looking young English fellow, with a gravity equal to that of
the sham showman, explained to his audience that he was composing an
operetta, of which he would give them a few passages. He was a skilful
piani