, and his thirst with a drop of good wine--the more drops the
better.

"So many of our customs," said Sixtus, one day, "are, at bottom,
immoral. For instance, nurse-hunting."

Doctor Kumpan roared with laughter and said:

"And you too, Schniepel,"--the college nickname of Sixtus--"so you,
also, are one of the new-fashioned friends of the people. You
gentlemen, whose gloves are ever buttoned, treat the people far too
gingerly. We, who live among them, know them far better. They're a pack
of rogues and blockheads, just like their superiors; the only
difference's that they're more honest about it. The only effect your
care for them can have will be to make matters worse. How lucky it is
that the trees in the forest grow without artificial irrigation!"

During these excursions, Doctor Kumpan gave free vent to his rough
humor, and was so delighted with his wit that he could live three days
on the recollection of one of his own wretched jokes.

Sixtus found himself ill at ease in the company of the village doctor,
with whom it was necessary to keep on the same friendly footing as of
yore; and, therefore, made an effort to hasten his departure.

He was about to take his leave--it was on the morning of the second
Sunday following--when Doctor Kumpan said:

"I'm disgusted with myself for having been so stupid. I've got it!
Mother nature herself, unconditioned and absolute--just as old
Professor Genitivius, the son of his celebrated father, used to say,
while he brought his fist down on his desk--Come along with me!"

They drove off in the direction of the lake.

CHAPTER V.

Sunday morning had come again, and, with it, stirring times in the
cottage by the lake. Godfather and godmother were there, and, at the
first tolling of the church bell, whose sounds floated on the air like
so many invisible yet audible waves, a procession moved from the house.
The grandmother carried the child upon a soft, downy pillow, over which
a white cover had been spread; following after her, proudly walked the
father, with a nosegay in his button-hole. Beside him, was the
godfather, mine host of the Chamois, followed by tailor Schneck's wife
and other females. A light-haired boy about five years old, and bearing
a two-pronged twig of hazel in his hand, had also joined in the
procession.

"What are you after, Waldl?" asked Hansei.

The boy did not answer. Mistress Schneck took his hand in hers and
s