"Come, you fellows, that's enough joking. This defection of yours,
melancholy Eynhardt, combines obstinacy with wisdom, like Balaam's
ass! Well! may you rest in peace. And now let us be off."

The glasses, filled with clear Affenthaler, rang merrily together,
the smiling landlord took up his money, and the company rose noisily
from the wooden bench, overturning it with a bang. The round table
was only proof against a similar accident on account of its
structure, which some one with wise forethought had so designed that
only the most tremendous shaking could upset its equilibrium. The
boisterous group consisted of five or six young men, easily
recognized as students by their caps with colored bands, the scars
on their faces, and their rather swaggering manner. They slung their
knapsacks on, stepped through the open door of the little arbor
where they had been sitting, on to the highroad, and gathered round
the previous speaker. He was a tall, good-looking young man, with
fair hair, laughing blue eyes, and a budding mustache.

"Then you are determined, Eynhardt, that you won't go any further?"
asked he, with an accent which betrayed him as a Rhinelander.

"Yes, I am determined," Eynhardt answered.

"A groan for the worthless fellow; but more in sorrow than in
anger," said the tall one to the others. They groaned three times
loudly, all together, while the Rhinelander gravely beat time. An
unpracticed ear would very likely have failed to note the shade of
feeling implied in the noise; but he appeared satisfied.

"Well, just as you like. No compulsion. Freedom is the best thing in