"Indeed, it is a very fine song," said Thugut, "and can you tell me
who has taught you this song?"

"No, your excellency, I could not do it. Nobody knows it besides. It
was printed on a small handbill, and circulated all over the city. A
copy was thrown into every house, and the working-men, when setting
out early one morning, found it in the streets."

"And did you not assist in circulating this excellent song, my dear
Mr. Wenzel?"

"I? God and the Holy Virgin forbid!" exclaimed Mr. Wenzel, in
dismay. "I have merely sung it, like all the rest of us, and sung it
to the tune which I heard from the others."

"Well, well, you did right, for the melody is really pleasing. Such
songs generally have the peculiarity that not a single word of them
is true; people call that poetry. Now, you may go, my poetical Mr.
Wenzel, and you others, whom the people sent with this pacific
mission to me. Tell your constituents that I will this time comply
mercifully with their wishes, and give them peace, that is, I will
let them go, and not send them to the calaboose, as they have
abundantly deserved. But if you try this game again, and get up
another riot, and sing that fine song once more, you may rest
assured that you will be taken to jail and taught there a most
unpleasant lesson. Begone now!"

He turned his back on the trembling citizens, and took no notice of
the respectful bows with which they took leave of him, whereupon