“But I cannot leave you alone in the cellar,” he replied. “I know, begging your pardon, that you wouldn’t steal anything, but it is against my orders.”
“Well, then, lock the door behind me; put a padlock on, as ponderous as you please, and to-morrow morning at six come and wake me and get your fee.”
“TWO MEN WITH CEREMONIOUS POLITENESS URGING PRECEDENCE UPON EACH OTHER.”
He tried to remonstrate, but it was in vain. At last he put down three bottles and nine candles before me, wiped out the beaker, and bade me good-night with a heavy heart as it seemed. He locked the door, and out of tender solicitude for me, as it would seem, more than for the safety of his cellar, hung on a padlock. Just then the clock struck twelve. I heard him mutter a prayer and hasten away. The sound of his steps died away in the vault, and when he shut the outside door of the cellar it reverberated like a peal of thunder through the passages.
So I am alone with thee, my soul, far down in the womb of the earth. Up on the earth they are all asleep and adream, and down here, round about, they slumber in their coffins, the spirits of wine. Do they dream, I wonder, of their short childhood, of the distant hills where they were bred, and of their old father Rhine who murmured a gentle ditty by their cradle?
Hark! Was not that the sound of a door? Certainly very queer; if I were not alone down here, if I did not know that men can only walk the earth above, I should be tempted to think that there are steps resounding through the vaults. Ha! here they come, there is something fumbling at the door; it shakes the latch, but the door is locked and bolted; this night no mortal will disturb me. Ha! What is that? The door opens. Holy horrors!
Outside the door stood two men with ceremonious politeness urging the precedence upon each other. The one was tall and lean, adorned with a great black wig, a dark-red coat, trimmed with gilt cording and gilt-spun buttons; his legs, of abnormal length and thinness, were attired in knee-breeches of black velvet with gold buckles. His sword, with a heft of porcelain, he had stuck through his trousers-pocket; when bowing he waved a little three-cornered silk hat, while the flowing locks of his wig brushed his shoulders. The man had a pale, sorrowful face, deep-set eyes, and a large nose of fiery red. Quite different was the smaller fellow, who had been specially obsequious in urging the other to pass him at the door. His hair was pasted to his head with the white of an egg, and on either side it was fastened securely in two rolls like the holsters of a pistol; a long pig-tail hung down his back; he wore a little coat of grey faced with red; his lower parts were adorned with large jack-boots, his upper with a richly-embroidered vest of state, which fell over his well-rounded little belly down to his knees; and he was buckled about with an enormous sword. There was an expression of exceeding good-nature in his fleshy face, especially in his little eyes that stood out like those of a lobster. His gestures were carried out with an enormous felt hat turned up boldly on either side.
They hung their hats upon the wall, unbuckled their swords, and sat down silently by the table without looking at me. I was about to take heart and address them, when there was a new sound outside. Steps approached, the door was opened, and four other gentlemen, attired in the same old fashion, entered.