CHAPTER IV


It was late in the evening when a britzska stopped at the post-house at
Coblentz. The passage-boat from Bingen had just arrived; and a portly
judge from the Danube, a tall, gaunt Prussian officer, a sketching
English artist, two University students, and some cloth-merchants,
returning from Frankfort fair, were busily occupied at a long table in
the centre of the room, at an ample banquet, in which sour-crout,
cherry-soup, and savoury sausages were not wanting. So keen were the
appetites of these worthies, that the entrance of the new comers, who
seated themselves at a small table in the corner of the room, was
scarcely noticed; and for half-an-hour nothing was heard but the sound
of crashing jaws and of rattling knives and forks. How singular is the
sight of a dozen hungry individuals intent upon their prey! What a noisy
silence! A human voice was at length heard. It proceeded from the fat
judge; a man at once convivial, dignified, and economical: he had not
spoken for two minutes before his character was evident to every person
in the room, although he flattered himself that his secret purpose was
concealed from all. Tired with the thin Moselle gratuitously allowed to
the table, the judge wished to comfort himself with a glass of more
generous liquor; aware of the price of a bottle of good Rudesheimer, he
was desirous of forming a copartnership with one or two gentlemen in the
venture; still more aware of his exalted situation, he felt it did not
become him to appear in the eyes of any one as an unsuccessful
suppliant.

"This Moselle is very thin," observed the judge, shaking his head.

"Very fair table-wine, I think" said the artist, refilling his tumbler,