There were some married couples, too; for the most part extremely young and extravagantly clad, who at first kept together timidly and looked about with great, astonished eyes, and later frolicked about like monkeys set at liberty. One couple seemed to have been dragged to the carnival as a practical joke. The husband was a genuine complacent beery German, the wife, a good, corpulent, black-silk creature. The man, Lilly was told, was the landlord of the house, a well-to-do baker, who had been invited to the carnival as a reward for good-naturedly having permitted his fourth floor to be turned topsy-turvey. But the couple by no means felt nervous or out of place. They made coarse, clumsy jokes, and were always surrounded by a group of laughing auditors. About ten o'clock--Lilly had just been entangled by one of the long-haired and linenless in a profound discussion of false human values--when all of a sudden a sort of cry of wrath was raised, issuing at first from only one or two throats, then swelling to a loud thunder. Lilly distinguished the words "hunger" and "fodder." Mr. Kellermann's pacifying voice resounded to still the clamour. An accident, he said, had occurred to interrupt the spreading of the bread of which each guest would receive a piece--a poor devil of an artist couldn't afford a more abundant repast. He had hurriedly sent across the street for what was missing, and would the gentlemen please content themselves until it arrived? As for those who were _very_ hungry and did not worry about the taking of human life, the hosts had provided arsenic sandwiches and strychnine tarts, which were to be found in the closet marked "Poisons." The whole assemblage made a dash for the Criminal Side, where for the sake of the _crimes passionels_ a whole arsenal of deadly instruments had been prepared. Gallows dangled from the ceiling, ladders led down to abysses, and a cannon was discharged. The company immediately snatched the poisonous sandwiches from the sideboard, and sometimes even absolute strangers offered one another "a bite," like school children. Then came the regular supper. A buffet had been set up among the pines in the anteroom, piled mountain high with all sorts of goodies, Yorkshire hams, cold game, lobster, sliced salmon, and heaven knows what else. So stormy was the onslaught on that buffet--which, providentially had been placed against a wall--that the forest of pines gave way. Twigs flew about, branches broke, and a mass of laughing, cursing creatures rolled among the overturned tree-boxes. Somebody had a brilliant idea--chuck the whole forest down stairs. Forthwith the Chinese lanterns were extinguished, and despite the protestations of the landlord, who feared for the sleep of his other tenants, tree after tree went crashing down the steps and piled up at the bottom.