alled his attention to some further
sketches, he again turned away.

But now the souls of the sons of the Fatherland, warmed with wine, began
to think of home and love and patriotism, and longed for some more
melodious utterances than this continuous guttural clatter. Silence was
commanded. A handsome young fellow, slim and dark, clearly a Jew,
ascended the platform, and sat down at the piano; the bashful Hempel,
still blushing and laughing, was induced to follow; together they sung,
amidst comparative silence, a duet of Mendelssohn's, set for tenor and
barytone, and sung it very well indeed. There was great applause, but
Hempel insisted on retiring. Left to himself, the young man with the
handsome profile and the finely-set head played a few bars of prelude,
and then, in a remarkably clear and resonant voice, sung Braga's
mystical and tender serenade, the "_Legende Valaque_," amidst a silence
now quite secured. But what was this one voice or that to all the
passion of music demanding utterance? Soon there was a call to the young
gentleman to play an accompaniment; and a huge black-a-vised Hessian,
still sitting at the table, held up his brimming glass, and began, in a
voice like a hundred kettle-drums,

"Ich nehm' mein Glaschen in die Hand:"

then came the universal shout of the chorus, ringing to the roof,

"Vive la Compagneia!"

Again the raucous voice bawled aloud,

"Und fahr' damit in's Unterland:"

and again the thunder of the chorus, this time prolonged, with much
beating of time on the table, and jangling of wine-glasses,

"Vive la Compagneia!
Vive la, vive la, vive la, va! vive la, vive la, hopsasa!
Vive la Compagneia!"

And so on to the end, the chorus becoming stormier and more thunderous
than ever; then, when peace had been restored, there was a general
rising, though here and there a final glass was drunk with "stosst an!
setzt an! fertig! los!" and its attendant ceremonies. The meeting had
broken up by common consent; there was a shuffling of footsteps, and
some disjointed talking and calling down the empty hall, were the lights
were already being put out.

Reitzei had set silent during all this chorus-singing, though
ordinarily, being an excitable person, and indeed rather proud of his
voice, he was ready to roar with any one; and in silence, too, he walked
away with Beratinsky, who either was or appeared to be quite unconscious
of his companion's state of mind. At l