"Adieu!" said Tinkeles; "and now, when we meet again, we are good friends." He lifted the latch. "If you want to know the name of the man who can make Von Rothsattel as small as the grass in the streets which every one treads upon, inquire for Hirsch Ehrenthal's book-keeper, of the name of Itzig. Veitel Itzig is the name." With these words he made his exit so rapidly that, although Anton tried, he could not overtake him. He determined at once to inform the baron's son of what he had heard, though he feared that it would occasion his tender nature great distress. "But it must be done this very evening," thought he. "I will go early, or remain till the others have left." Fate, however, did not favor this intention. Early as Anton went, he found five or six young cavalry officers already arrived at young Rothsattel's rooms before him. Eugene lay in his dressing-gown on the sofa, the squadron encamping round him. The doctor succeeded Anton. "How are you?" said he to the patient. "Well enough," replied Eugene. "I don't want your powders." "A little fever," continued the doctor. "Pulse full, and so on. It is too hot here. I propose that we open the window." "By Jove, doctor, you shall do no such thing," cried a young gentleman, who had made himself a sort of couch of two chairs; "you know that I can't stand a draught except when on duty." "Leave it alone," cried Eugene; "we are homoeopathists here; we will drive out heat by heat. What shall we drink?" "A mild punch would be best for the patient," said the doctor. "Bring the pine-apple, my good Anton; it is somewhere there, with the rest of the apparatus." "Ha!" cried the doctor, as Anton produced the fruit, and the servant came in with a basket of wine; "a sweet Colossus, a remarkable specimen indeed! With your leave, I'll make the punch. The proportions must have some reference to the state of the patient." So saying, the doctor put his hand into his pocket, and brought out a black case, in which he looked for a knife to cut the fruit. The young hussars broke out at once into a volley of oaths. "My good sirs," cried the doctor, little moved by the storm he had raised, "has any one of you got a knife? Not one, I know. There is nothing to be found in your pockets but looking-glasses and brushes; and which of you understands the making of a bowl that a man of the world can drink? You can, indeed, empty one, but make it you can not." "I will try what I can do, doctor," said Bolling, from a corner. "Ah! Herr von Bolling, are you here too?" replied the doctor, with a bow. Bolling took the pine-apple, and carefully held it out of reach of the medical arm. "Come here, Anton," said he, "and take care that that monster of a doctor does not approach our punch with his dissecting-knife." While these two were brewing, the doctor took out two packs of cards, and solemnly laid them on the table. "None of your cards!" cried Eugene; "to-day, at least, let us be together without sinning."