“Par exemple,” he said, in 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 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!”