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Kühnchen had to interrupt his inventions, he was choking with laughter, while the whole table boomed in unison.

Kühnchen recovered. "The treacherous swine had also caught us napping! And the women! Upon my word, gentlemen, there is nothing can touch the French women for viciousness. They poured boiling water on our heads. Now, I ask you, was that lady-like? When the house was on fire they threw the children out of the window, and expected us to catch them. Nice, wasn't it? But foolish! On our bayonets we caught the little devils. And then the women!" Kühnchen bent his gouty fingers as if they held the butt end of a gun and looked up as if there was still some one to be empaled. His glasses shone and he continued to lie. "At last a real fat one came along. She could not get through the window frontways, so she tried if she could go backwards. But you didn't know your Kiihnchen, my child. I wasn't slow in getting up on the shoulders of two comrades, and with my bayonet I tickled her fat French—"

The last word was drowned in the applause. The professor added: "Every Sedan anniversary I tell the story in noble words to my class. The youngsters must learn what heroic forebears they had."

They were all agreed that this could only strengthen the loyal sentiments of the younger generation, and they toasted Kühnchen. In their enthusiasm none had noticed that a newcomer had approached the table. Suddenly Jadassohn saw the modest grey figure of a man in a long military cape, and made a friendly sign to him. "Why, come along, Herr Rothgroschen!" In the exuberance of his spirit Diederich asked overbearingly: "Who are you?"

The stranger answered cringingly: "Rothgroschen, editor of the 'Netzig Journal.'"

"Ah, a hungry intellectual," said Diederich, his eyes flashing. "Broken-down college men, poor scholars, a menace to us!"