The picnickers sprang up from the sidewalk. Those in the back ranks, beyond the foot-pavement, stood on their tip-toes. Some navvies, in the service of the Consul, took off their caps. They stood at attention, nudged each other, and muttered in low tones, “’Tis Consul Buddenbrook. He be goin’ to talk. Hold yer jaw, there, Chrishan; he can jaw like the devil himself! Ther’s Broker Gosch--look! What a monkey he is! Isn’t he gettin’ o’erwrought!” “Carl Smolt!” began the Consul again, picking out and fastening his small, deep-set eyes upon a bow-legged young labourer of about two-and-twenty, with his cap in his hand and his mouth full of bread, standing in front of the steps. “Here, speak up, Carl Smolt! Now’s the time! I’ve been here the whole afternoon--” “Yes, Herr Consul,” brought out Carl Smolt, chewing violently. “The thing is--ower--it’s a soart o’--we’re makkin’ a rivolution.” “What kind of nonsense is that, then?” “Lord, Herr Consul, ye knaw what that is. We’re not satisfied wi’ things as they be. We demand another order o’ things; tain’t any more’n that--that’s what it is.” “Now, listen, Carl Smolt and the rest of you. Whoever’s got any sense will go home and not bother himself over any revolutions, disturbing the regular order of things--” “The sacred order,” interrupted Herr Gosch dramatically. “The regular order, I say,” finished the Consul. “Why, even the lamps aren’t lighted. That’s going too far with the revolution.” Carl Smolt had swallowed his mouthful by now, and, with the people at his back, stood his ground and made some objections. “Well, Herr Consul, ye may say that. But we’re only agin the principle of the voate--” “God in heaven, you ninny,” shouted the Consul, forgetting, in his excitement, to speak dialect. “You’re talking the sheerest nonsense--” “Lord, Herr Consul,” said Carl Smolt, somewhat abashed, “thet’s oall as it is. Rivolution it has to be. Ther’s rivolution iverywheer, in Berlin, in Paris--” “But, Smolt, what do you want? Just tell me that, if you can.” “Lord, Herr Consul, I say we wants a republic; that’s wat I be sayin’.” “But, you fool, you’ve got one already.” “Well, Herr Consul, then we wants another.” Some of the bystanders, who understood the matter better, began to laugh rudely and heartily; and although few even heard Carl’s answer, the laughter spread until the whole crowd of republicans stood shaking good-naturedly. Some of the gentlemen from inside the hall appeared at the window with curious faces and beer-mugs in their hands. The only person disappointed and pained by this turn of affairs was Siegismund Gosch. “Now, people,” shouted Consul Buddenbrook finally, “I think the best thing for you all to do is to go home.” Carl Smolt, quite crestfallen over the result he had brought about, answered “That’s right, Herr Consul. Then things’ll be quieted down. And Herr Consul doesn’t take it ill of me, do’e, now? Good-bye, Herr Consul!”