"You do not come here to proselytize, then?"
"One must amuse one's self sometimes," said the little, fat, black-haired Pole, somewhat gruffly.
"Then one must take care what one says!"
"I presume that is generally the case, friend Calabressa."
But Calabressa was not offended. He was interested in what was going on.
"Par exemple," he said, in his airy way, "que vient faire la le drole?"
The music had come to an end, and the spectacled professor had retired amidst a thunder of applause. His successor, who had attracted Calabressa's attention, was a gentleman who had mounted on a high easel an immense portfolio of cartoons roughly executed in crayon; and as he exhibited them one by one, he pointed out their character
istics with a long stick, after the manner of a showman. His demeanor was serious; his face was grave; his tone was simple and business-like. But as he unfolded these rude drawings, Calabressa, who understood but little German, was more and more astonished to find the guttural laughter around him increase and increase until the whole place resounded with roars, while some of the old Herren held their sides in pain, as the tears of the gigantic mirth streamed down their cheeks. Those who were able hammered loud applause on the table before them; others rolled in their chairs; many could only lie back and send their merriment up to the reverberating roof in shrill shrieks and yells.
"In the name of Heaven, what is it all about?" said Calabressa. "Have the people gone mad?"
"Illustrations of German proverbs," said Beratinsky, who, despite his surly manner, was himself forced to smile.