Two girls came in, and one of them wore a cap of two colors. They filled
the glasses and made curtsies. The Councilor felt cold shivers up and down
his spine. “What is all this? What is all this?” he groaned, but drink with
them he must. They overwhelmed him with their kind intentions until he
despaired, and when one man pronounced him drunk he didn't doubt it in
the least. All he asked was that they get him a droschke.” Then they thought
he was speaking in Russian.
Never before had he been in such low and vulgar company! “One would
think that the country had lapsed back into barbarism,” he told himself.
“This is the most dreadful moment of my life.”
Then it occurred to him to slip down under the table, crawl to the door,
and try to sneak out, but just as he neared the threshold his companions
discovered him and tried to pull him out by his feet. However, by great
good luck they pulled off his galoshes, and-with them-the whole
enchantment.
The Councilor of Justice now distinctly saw a street lamp burning in front
of a large building. He knew the building and the other buildings near-by. It
was East Street as we all know it today. He lay on the pavement with his
legs against a gate, and across the way a night watchman sat fast asleep.
“Merciful heavens! Have I been lying here in the street dreaming?” the
Councilor of Justice said. “To be sure, this is East Street. How blessedly
bright and how colorful it looks. But what dreadful effect that one glass of
punch must have had on me.”
Two minutes later he was seated in a cab, and well on his way to
Christian's Harbour. As he recalled all the past terror and distress to which
he had been subjected, he wholeheartedly approved of the present, our own
happy age. With all its shortcomings it was far preferable to that age into
which he had recently stumbled. And that, thought the Councilor of Justice,
was good common sense.
III. THE WATCHMAN'S ADVENTURE
