“There comes August” one of the gentlemen called out, softly. He had been in Berlin and had seen the circus there, and the others joined him.
“My honored guests,’ cried Leo, climbing on a chair,” this pattern boy, called Paul Meyerhofer, has in the most inconsiderate manner withdrawn from the verdict of the assembly. As he foresaw, in his feeling of unworthiness, that most of the refusals would be gathered upon his undignified head, he has in most reprehensible cowardice—”
“I don’t know why you speak so badly of me,” said Paul, hurt, for he took everything seriously.
A fresh peal of laughter answered him
“I make the proposition to confer the nightcap on him as a punishment for his crime, and to form a jury for this purpose.”
“If you please, I’ll take the cap without that,” Paul answered, irritated. By this time he had only to open his mouth to call forth fresh mirth.
Solemnly he was crowned with the nightcap.
“I must look very funny, after all,’ he thought, for they were all dying with laughter. Only his sisters did not laugh, blushing deeply, they looked down in their laps, and Elsbeth looked it him with embarrassment, as if she wanted to ask his pardon.
“August,” was again softly whispered from the circle of gentlemen.
Immediately after, the thunder storm broke forth