At a quarter to twelve he drank his sixth glass of bitters in the nearest grocer's shop and it was high time that he did so, for he felt so weak on his feet that he was nearly ready to fall. From now on he held his watch, an heirloom for which a collector of curiosities would have paid much money, convulsively in his trembling hand and when the clock of the town church struck twelve he nearly went home and to bed, "finished and done for."
He drank another glass of bitters; it was the seventh, and together with the others it had its effect, and its consequences were more noticeable than those of the previous ones.
Uncle Grünebaum now leant firmly against the wall; he smiled through tears. From time to time he made gestures of warding something off as if he would drive uninvited feelings back within bounds; it was fortunate for him that at this hour the younger portion of the population was abandoning itself to the pleasures of the dinner table—this spared him many affronts and ironical remarks. He began to attract the attention of the police and they, maternally concerned about him, gave him the advice not to wait any longer but to go home, the result of which was only that he leant still more firmly against the wall and with displeased grunts, snorts and hiccoughs gave utterance to his intention to wait at that corner for "the lad" till doomsday. Since as yet he did not seriously disturb the public peace, the police retired a little but kept a sharp eye upon him ready at any moment to spring forward and seize him.
Fortunately not only the laudable protectors of public safety watched over Master Nik'las but also his guardian angel, or rather, the latter just returned from attending to some private business, to resume his watch. He saw with horror how matters stood and it was most probably due to his mediation that over in the school-house a violent shock ran suddenly through the learned soul of Professor Fackler as he remembered his Lesbia waiting for him to come home to dinner. He glanced hastily at his watch and jumped from his seat; the other gentlemen rustled after him, secundum ordinem. The candidates, before whose eyes everything had gradually begun to swim, rose also, dizzy, sweating and exhausted. Uncle Grünebaum now had to keep his balance for only a short quarter of an hour more;—at a quarter to one he sank, he fell, he toppled into the arms of his pale, excited nephew—Victory! Hans Unwirrsch had triumphed, Master Grünebaum had triumphed; the one over the questions of seven examining instructors, the other over the seven glasses of bitters—Victory!
Professor Fackler wanted to go up to Hans' uncle to congratulate him but refrained in shocked surprise when he recognized the excellent man's upset condition; Moses Freudenstein, primus inter pares, laughed not a little at the helpless and piteous glances that Hans Unwirrsch threw in all directions; the happiness of the hour however had made his heart softer than usual, he offered to aid his friend, and between the two youths the jolly old boy Nik'las Grünebaum made for Kröppel Street, smiling and babbling, staggering and sobbing.
What did it matter that as soon as he got into the low, dark room Uncle Grünebaum dropped onto the nearest chair, laid his arms on the table and his head on his arms? What did Mother Christine and Auntie Schlotterbeck care about Uncle Grünebaum in this hour? They left him entirely to himself and to his seven glasses of bitters! The two women were almost as bewildered and confused as the master; they sobbed and smiled at the same time, as he had sobbed and smiled and Hans was not behind them in emotion and jubilance.
The day was won by the two boys from Kröppel Street; Moses Freudenstein of course had passed first among all the candidates; but Hans Unwirrsch had achieved the second place.
Everything in the room looked different from usual; a magic light had spread over everything. It was no wonder that the glass globe shone; it was too intimate with the sun not to sparkle on such a day as if it were a little sun itself. Anyone who looked at it carefully saw that more was reflected in it than he would have suspected: laughing and weeping faces, bits of the walls, a part of Kröppel Street with a piece of blue sky, the royal Westphalian body-servant and the junk-dealer Samuel Freudenstein who pulled the said servant from his hook with strange haste and shut the shutters and door of his house.
Auntie Schlotterbeck saw this occurrence, which was reflected in the hanging globe, through the window and was just about to give vent to her wonder at it when Uncle Grünebaum raised his tired head from the table and began to survey his surroundings with more than astonished glances. He rubbed his eyes, ran his fingers through his hair and took his place once more in the family circle with the remark that any excess of joy and jubilance was very dangerous and might bring on attacks of something like apoplexy, as his "own bodily example" had just shown. With his senses he had regained in rich measure the gift of dulcet speech and as usual immediately made liberal use of it.