Adrian hastily wrapped the little vial the quack handed him in the piece
of printed paper, received his dearly-bought treasure, and ran home. On
the way he was stopped by Captain Allertssohn, who came towards him with
the musician Wilhelm.

"Have you seen my Andreas, Master Good-for-nothing?" he asked.

"He was standing listening to the musicians," replied Adrian, released
himself from the captain's grasp, and vanished among the crowd.

"A nimble lad," said the fencing-master. "My boy is standing with the
musicians again. He has nothing but your art in his mind. He would
rather blow on a comb than comb his hair with it, he's always tooting on
every leaf and pipe, makes triangles of broken sword-blades, and not even
a kitchen pot is sate from his drumming; in short there's nothing but
singsong in the good-for-nothing fellow's head; he wants to be a musician
or something of the sort."

"Right, right!" replied Wilhelm eagerly; "he has a fine ear and the best
voice in the choir."

"The matter must be duly considered," replied the captain, "and you, if
anybody, are the person to tell us what he can accomplish in your art.
If you have time this evening, Herr Wilhelm, come to me at the watch
house, I should like to speak to you. To be sure, you'll hardly find me
before ten o'clock. I have a stricture in my throat again, and on such
days--Roland, my fore man!"

The captain cleared his throat loudly and vehemently. "I am at your
service," said Wilhelm, "for the night is long, but I won't let you go