"
Stuler's eyes gleamed phosphorescently. There was the strain of
the ancient marauder in his veins; gold easily gotten. He opened
the door, and Johann passed out, swaying. The wine was taking
hold of him. He turned into the hall, while Stuler busied
himself with the spigots. Some one discovered the spy, and
called him by name; it was caught up by others, and there were
numerous calls for a speech.
As a socialist Johann was well known about the lower town.
Besides, five years gone, he himself had been a student and a
brother of freedom. He had fought a dozen successful duels, and
finally had been expelled from the university for beating a
professor who had objected to his conduct in the presence of
ladies. Other ill reports added to his popularity. To be popular
in this whimsical world of ours, one has either to be very good
or very bad. Johann was not unwilling to speak. Stuler had given
him the cue; the cuirassiers. His advice was secretly to arm and
hold in readiness. As this was the substance of the other
speeches, Johann received his meed of applause.
"And let us not forget the bulldog; let us kill him, too," cried
one of the auditors; "the prodigal bulldog, who has lived on our
fatted calves.
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