It was here, then, that I had arranged to give my little dinner. The

orchestra had agreed--for a liberal tip--to play _The Star-Spangled

Banner_, and there was a case of Doppelkinn's sparkling Moselle. I may

as well state right here that we neither heard our national anthem nor

drank the vintage. You will soon learn why. I can laugh now, I can

treat the whole affair with becoming levity, but at the time I gained

several extra grey hairs.

If the princess hadn't turned around, and if Max hadn't wanted that box

of Havanas!

When I arrived at Müller's I found my boys in a merry mood. They were

singing softly from _Robin Hood_ with fine college harmony, and as I

entered they swarmed about me like so many young dogs. Truth to tell,

none of them was under twenty, and two or three were older than myself.

But to them I represented official protection for whatever they might

do. I assumed all the dignity I dared. I had kept Scharfenstein's

name back as a surprise.

Ellis--for whom I had the passports--immediately struck me as being so

nearly like Max that they might easily have been brothers. Ellis was

slighter; that was all the difference. I gave him his papers and

examined his tickets. All was well; barring accidents, he would be in

Dresden the next day.

"You go through Doppelkinn, then?" said I.

"Yes. I have friends in Dresden whom I wish to see before going home."

"Well, good luck to you!"

Then I announced that Max Scharfenstein, an old college comrade, would

join us presently. This was greeted with hurrahs. At that time there

wasn't an American student who did not recollect Max's great run from

the ten-yard line. (But where the deuce _was_ Max?) I took a little

flag from my pocket and stuck it into the vase of poppies, and the boys

clapped their hands. You never realize how beautiful your flag is till

you see it in a foreign land. I apologized for Max's absence,

explaining the cause, and ordered dinner to be served. We hadn't much

time, as Ellis's train departed at ten. It was now a quarter to nine.

We had come to the relishes when a party of four officers took the

table nearest us. They hung up their sabers on the wall-pegs, and sat

down, ordering a bottle of light wine. Usually there were five chairs

to the table, but even if only two were being used no one had the right

to withdraw one of the vacant chairs without the most elaborate

apologies. This is the law of courtesy in Barscheit. In America it is

different; if you see anything you want, take it.




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