you fall into madness quite readily, and
then involuntarily you manoeuvre, and go through your exercise, just
as the crack-brained fugleman makes the motion. Would you believe it,
Conrector? I am still giddy when I think of that gray Parrot!"

"Gray fiddlesticks!" interrupted the Conrector; "it was nothing but
Archivarius Lindhorst's little old Famulus, who had thrown a gray
cloak over him and was seeking the student Anselmus."

"It may be," answered Registrator Heerbrand, "but, I must confess, I
am quite downcast in spirit; the whole night through there was such a
piping and organing."

"That was I," said the Conrector, "for I snore loud."

"Well, maybe," answered the Registrator; "but Conrector, Conrector!
Ah, not without cause did I wish to raise some cheerfulness among
us last night--But that Anselmus has spoiled all! You know not--O
Conrector, Conrector!" And with this, Registrator Heerbrand started
up, plucked the cloth from his head, embraced the Conrector, warmly
pressed his hand, and again cried, in quite heart-breaking tones: "O
Conrector, Conrector!" and, snatching his hat and staff, rushed out of
doors.

"This Anselmus comes not over my threshold again," said Conrector
Paulmann; "for I see very well that, with this obdurate madness of
his, he robs the best people of their senses. The Registrator is
now over with it too; I have hitherto kept safe; but the Devil, who
knocked hard last night in our carousal, may get in at last and play
his tricks with me. So _Apage, Satanas_! Off with thee, Anselmus!"
Veronica had grown quite pensive; she spoke no word; only smiled now
and then very oddly, and liked best to be alone. "Also of her distress
Anselmus is the cause," said the Conrector, full of malice; "but it
is well that he does not show himself here; I know he fears me, this
Anselmus, and so he never comes."

These concluding words Conrector Paulmann spoke aloud; then the tears
rushed into Veronica's eyes, and she said, sobbing: "Ah! how can
Anselmus come? He has long been corked up in the glass bottle."

"How? What?" cried Conrector Paulmann. "Ah Heaven! Ah Heaven! she is
doting too, like the Registrator; the loud fit will soon come!
Ah, thou cursed, abominable, thrice-cursed Anselmus!" He ran forth
directly to Doctor Eckstein, who smiled, and again said: "Ey! Ey!"
This time, however, he prescribed nothing; but added, to the little
he had uttered, the following words, as he walked away: "Nerves! Come
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