“‘Who does that house opposite belong to?’ he then asks the host.
“The other regularly bows and answers, ‘It belongs to the Counsellor of State, Hasentreffer, at your Excellency’s service.’”
“But, Professor,” here observed I, “what has this silly Hasentreffer of yours to do with our Natas?”
“A moment’s patience, Doctor,” answered the Professor, “the light will soon break in upon you. Hasentreffer then examines the house, and learns that it belongs to Hasentreffer. ‘Oh, what!’ he asks, ‘the same that was a student with me at Tibsingen’—then throws open the window, stretches his powdered head out, and calls out—‘Ha-asentreffer—Ha-asentreffer!’
“Of course no one answers, but he remarks: ‘The old fellow would never forgive me if I was not to look in on him for a moment,’ then takes up his hat and cane, unlocks his own house, goes in, and all goes on after as before.
“All of us,” the Professor proceeded in his story, “were greatly astonished at this singular story, and highly delighted at the idea of the next day’s merriment. Signor Barighi, however, obliged us to promise that we would not betray him, as he said he was preparing a capital joke to play off on the Counsellor.
“We all met at the table d’hôte earlier than usual, and besieged the windows. An old tumble down carriage, drawn by two blind steeds, came crawling down the street; it stopped before the hotel. There’s Hasentreffer, there’s Hasentreffer, was echoed by every mouth; and we were filled with extravagant merriment when we saw the little man get out, neatly powdered, dressed in an iron grey surtout with a huge meerschaum in hand. An escort of at least ten servants followed him in, and in this guise he entered the dining-room.
“We sat down at once. I have seldom laughed as much as I did then; for the old chap insisted, with the greatest coolness, that he came direct from Carrel, and that he had six days before been extremely well entertained at the Swan Inn at Frankfort. Barighi must have disappeared before the dessert, for when the Counsellor left the table, and the other guests, full of curiosity, imitated his example, Barighi was nowhere to be seen.
“The Counsellor took his seat at the window; we all followed his example and watched his movements. The house opposite seemed desolate and uninhabited. Grass grew on the threshold, the shutters were closed, and on some of them birds seemed to have built their nests.
“‘A fine house that, opposite,’ said the old man to our host, who kept standing behind him in the third position. ‘Who does it belong to?’