“‘Remove this fellow!’ exclaimed he to the police, who were standing at his heels.
“I knew what would be the result, but had determined to have the play out. So I drew off my slipper, and, thrusting my hand right through the hole at the toe, I made a bit of play with my fingers, and shouted in his ear:
“‘Look at this, brother. Are you not ashamed to see me? Look here! Look at this kripple-gespiel (puppet show)! Look!’
“Of course I was laid hold of; and here I am for another two months, for insulting a city functionary.”
This story was received with a glee only equalled by the gusto with which it was related. The last expression, “kripple-gespiel,” was peculiarly his own.
Before leaving Vienna, about a month after my release, I had
determined to see the Brühl, a wild, wooded, and mountainous district, at a short distance from the city. We had spent a delightful day among its thick pine woods, and on its towering heights, and in the evening made our way to the small town of Mödling, where we intended to take the railway to Vienna. But there was a grand fête in the pleasure grounds close to the town, accompanied by a magnificent display of fireworks. This whiled away the time, and it was already dark, as we at length bent our steps towards the railway station.
Suddenly a voice that I knew too well, struck upon my ear.
“Pity the poor blind!” it exclaimed.
I turned, and behold! there was my one-eyed jail acquaintance, planted against a brick wall, a stout staff, at least six feet long, in his hand, and his apparently sightless eyes turned up to the sky.