“God greet ye, Lords of the Rhine!” said the tall one of the red coat in a deep bass voice, getting up and bowing. “God greet ye,” squeaked the little one; “it’s a long time since last we saw you, James!”
“Hallo and good morning, Matthew,” replied one of the new-comers; “and good morning to you too, Judas! But what is this? Where are our bumpers, our pipes and tobacco? Has the old knave not yet waked out of his sinner’s sleep?”
“The lazy-bones!” cried the little one. “The heavy-eyed rascal! He is still lying over yonder in the graveyard; but, thunder and lightning, I’ll wake him up!” With that he seized a large bell that was standing upon the table, ringing it and laughing in a shrill, cutting voice.
As is the case with genuine old drinkers, so among these guests the conversation would not flow without wine. Just then a new personage appeared at the door. It was a little old man, with shaking legs and grey hair; his head looked like a skull over which a thin hide has been drawn, and his eyes shone dimly out of deep hollows; he was tugging at a large basket, and greeted the guests humbly.
“Ah, here’s our old kellermeister, Balthasar,” called out the guests; “come on, old fellow, put down the beakers and bring our pipes! Why did you tarry so long? It struck twelve long ago.”
The old man gaped once or twice rather indecently, and on the whole looked like a person who has overslept. “Came near sleeping through the 1st of September,” he grunted; “ever since they have paved the churchyard, I don’t hear as well as I did. Where are the other gentlemen?” he proceeded, taking beakers of strange shape and marvellous size out of the basket, and putting them on the table.
“Where are the others? You are only six, and old Rose hasn’t come yet.”
“Put the bottles down first,” exclaimed Judas, “that we may get a drop of something to drink, and then go over yonder—they are still asleep in their casks; tap them with your dry bones and tell them to get up.”
But hardly had Judas ended, when there was a rush and boisterous laughter at the door. “Spinster Rose, her health, hurrah, and her sweetheart Bacchus!” The door flew open, the ghostly fellows at the table jumped up and cried: “It is she, it is she, Spinster Rose and Bacchus and the others! Hurrah! Now we’re in for a jolly good time!” and with that they touched beakers with a ringing sound and laughed, and the fat one struck his belly, and the pale kellermeister threw his cap skilfully between his legs and up to the ceiling, and joined in with the shouts of the others till my ears rang again. What a sight! The wooden Bacchus, that I had but just seen astride the cask in the cellar, had got down, naked as he was; with his broad, smiling face, with his twinkling eyes, he greeted the group and came walking skittishly into the room; by his hand he led with much ceremony as his betrothed an elderly dame of great height and of goodly roundness. I do not know to this day how it was possible, but then and there it was clear as daylight to me that this dame was no other than old Rose, the enormous cask in the Rose-cellar.
And how gorgeously had she got herself up, the old lady from the Rhine! In her youth she must have been a comely lass, for even now, although the fresh colours of girlhood had left her cheeks, although time had painted some little wrinkles about her brow and her mouth, two centuries could not efface the noble features of her fine face. Her eyebrows had turned grey, and a couple of unseemly grey hairs had sprouted upon her pointed chin, but the hair brushed smoothly over her forehead was brown as nuts, and only intermingled here and there with a little silvery grey. Upon her head she wore a black velvet cap, fitting closely above her ears; then she had on a jerkin of finest black cloth, and the bodice of red velvet showing beneath was fastened with silver hooks and chains. About her throat she wore a broad necklace of glittering garnets, fastened to which was a gold medal; an ample skirt of brown cloth fell about her portly figure, and a little white apron trimmed with white lace added a coquettish touch. On one side there was a large pocket of leather, on the other a bunch of tremendous keys—in short, she was as respectable-looking a dame as ever walked across the street of Cologne or Mayence in 1618.