tate? If independent, shall we stand by
and see our personal liberties restricted? No! I say no!

"Let us petition to oust these vampires, who not only rob us of our
innocent amusements, but who are fed by our taxes. What right had
Austria to dictate our politics? What right had she to disavow the blood
and give us these Osians? O, my brothers, where are the days of Albrecht
III of glorious memory? He acknowledged our rights. He was our lawful
sovereign. He understood and loved us." This burst of sentiment was
slightly exaggerative, if the history of that monarch is to be relied
on; but the audience was mightily pleased with this recollection. It
served to add to their distemper and wrath against the Osian puppet.
"And where are our own soldiers, the soldiers of the kingdom? Moldering
away in the barracks, unnoticed and forgotten. For the first time in the
history of the country foreigners patrol the palaces. Our soldiers are
nobodies. They hold no office at court save that of Marshal, and his
voice is naught. Yet the brunt of the soldier's life falls on them. They
watch at the frontiers, tireless and vigilant, while the mercenaries
riot and play. Brothers, the time has come for us to act. The army is
with us, and so are the citizens. Let ours be the glory of touching the
match. We are brave and competent. We are drilled. We lack not courage.
Let us secretly arm and watch for the opportunity to strike a blow for
our rights. Confusion to the Osians, and may the duchess soon come into
her own!"

He jumped from the stage, and another took his place; the haranguing
went on. The orators were serious and earnest; they believed themselves
to be patriots, pure and simple, when in truth they were experiencing
the same spirit of revolt as the boy whose mother had whipped him for
making an unnecessary noise, or stealing into the buttery.

While the excitement was at its height, a man, somewhat older than the
majority of the students, entered the bar-room from the street, and
lounged heavily against the railing. His clothes were soiled and
wrinkled, blue circles shadowed his eyes, which were of dull jet, the
corners of his mouth drooped dejectedly, and his oily face, covered with
red stubble, gave evidences of a prolonged debauch.

"Wine, Stuler, wine!" he called, laying down a coin, which gleamed dimly
yellow in the opalescent light. "And none of your devilish vinegars and
scums."

Stuler pounced on the coin and rubbed it bet