were no small sorrow to Anton. He saw that men
worked much less, and talked and drank much more in this country than in
his. Whenever he had succeeded in getting a matter arranged, he could
not dispense with the succeeding breakfast. Then buyers, sellers,
assistants, and hangers-on of every kind sat at a round table together
in one of the taverns; began with porter, ate Caviare by the pound, and
washed it down with red Bordeaux wine. Hospitality was dispensed on all
sides; every familiar face must come and take a share in the banquet;
and so the company went on increasing till evening closed. Meanwhile the
wives, accustomed to such proceedings, would have dinner brought up and
removed three successive times, and at last adjourned till the next day.
At times like these Anton often thought of Fink, who, despite his
reluctance, had at least taught him to get through such ordeals as these
respectably.

One afternoon, while Anton was sitting watching a game at dominoes, an
old lieutenant, looking off his newspaper, called to the players,
"Yesterday evening one of our hussars had two fingers of his right hand
smashed. The ass who was quartered with him had been playing with his
carabine, which was loaded. The doctor thinks amputation unavoidable. I
am sorry for the fine fellow: he was one of the most efficient of our
squadron. These misfortunes always happen to the best."

"What is the man's name?" asked Herr von Bolling, going on with his
game.

"It is Corporal Sturm."

Anton sprang up, making all the pieces on the table dance again, and
asked where he was to be found.

The lieutenant described the situation of the Lazaretto. In a dark room,
full of beds and invalid soldiers, Karl lay pale and suffering, and
reached out his left hand to Anton. "It is over," he said; "it hurt me
most confoundedly, but I shall be able to use the hand again. I can
still guide a pen, and shall try to do every thing else, if not with the
right hand, why, with the left. Only I shall never again cut a figure in
gold rings."

"My poor, poor Karl," cried Anton; "it's all over with your soldiering."

"Do you know," said Karl, "I can stand that misfortune pretty well.
After all, it was not a regular war; and when spring and sowing-time
comes, I shall be all right again. I could get up now if the doctor were
not so strict. It is not pleasant here," added he, apologetically;
"many of our people are sick, and one must shift for one's self in a
st