"What the devil is the meaning of this?" said I. "Wolstang again! Confusion, this is no trick! The Provost of the College engage in a deception upon me--impossible! They are all mad, or I am mad! Wolstang from one--Wolstang from another--Wolstang from Doctor Dedimus Dunderhead! I will see to the bottom of this--I will go to Wolstang's house immediately." So saying, I snatched up my cap, put it on my head, and walked smartly down the court to gain the street where he lived. Before I got far, a young man met me. "By the by, Wolstang, I wish you could let me have the ten gilders I lent you. I require them immediately."--"Ten gilders!" said I; "I don't owe you a farthing. I never saw your face before, and my name is not Wolstang; it is Frederick Stadt." "Psha!--But, Wolstang, laying jesting aside," continued he, "I must positively have them." "Have what?" "My dear fellow, the ten gilders." "Ten devils!--I tell you, I don't owe you a farthing." "Really, Wolstang, this joke is very silly. We know you are an odd fellow, but this is the most foolish prank I ever saw you play." "Wolstang again!" said I, my heart boiling with indignation. "I tell you, sir--I tell you, sir, that--that--" I could not get out another word, to such a degree had indignation confounded me. Without finishing my sentence, I rushed into the street, but not without hearing the person say, "By heaven, he is either mad or drunk!" In a moment I was at Wolstang's lodgings, and set the knocker agoing with violence. The door was opened by his servant-girl Louise, a buxom wench of some eighteen or twenty. "Is Mr Wolstang in?" I demanded quickly. "Mr who, sir?" "Mr Wolstang, my dear." "Mr Wol---- Mr who, sir?--I did not hear you." "Mr Wolstang." "Mr Wolstang!" re-echoed the girl, with some surprise. "Assuredly, I ask you if Mr Wolstang is within." "Mr Wolstang!" reiterated she. "Ha ha, ha! how droll you are to-day, master!" "Damnation! what do you mean?" cried I in a fury, which I now found it impossible to suppress, "Tell me this instant if Mr Wolstang, your master, is at home, or by the beard of Socrates, I--I----" "Ha, ha! this is the queerest thing I ever heard of," said the little jade, retreating into the house, and holding her sides with laughter. "Come here, Barnabas, and hear our master asking for himself."