"That might be difficult, my boy," said
Johann, "and might cost you an expulsion."

"Silence!" cried Fritz. "I fear we've got
some beggarly Red-cap amongst us!"

"No! no!" shouted Johann; "I'm a
staunch Green-cap. But there is a difficulty,
and I'll solve it. Listen to what I propose.
Name a day for our meeting, when it will
certainly be vacation at Bologna—say, next
Easter twelvemonth. Max, can you come
then?"

"And why not this very next Easter?"
loudly interrupted Fritz.

"I could not come next Easter," replied
Max himself, "because my uncle and my
family have arranged with me that I should
stay at Bologna at least a year; for, as they
say, the place is far off, and journeys are
expensive, and rolling stones gather no moss,
and all that sort of thing."

"Ay!" cried Fritz; "that sort of thing
at which the old ones are ever ready. O! very
well! Here goes for next Easter twelvemonth!
Say Easter-Eve. Now, for a good
large jolly sheet of paper! I'll draw up the
agreement in right legal style: I'm studying
law, you know. But where's our paper?"

Fritz struck his tumbler, so as to imperil
its breaking, with the blade of his knife, and,
when the Kellner answered the summons,
ordered a large sheet of writing-paper, which
accordingly was brought. Large, coarse, blue-
looking, wire-wove paper it was.

"Behold!" said Fritz. "This will do for a
firm stout, diabolical compact, by which we all
bind ourselves to meet here, at this capital
Blaue Stern, next Easter-Eve twelvemonth,
at the same hour we did to-night. No!
Say—to give everybody time, distant ones,
especially—that we solemnly swear, on the
peril of our souls, to be here all assembled at
this very identical hour."

"And that is?" interrupted Johann,
interogatively.

"Just one o'clock," returned Fritz, looking
at his large silver watch.

"Bravo! Agreed!" cried all the students.
"Now for it!"

So, the summons to the banquet in the
future, was written out by Fritz, in a bold
legal hand. I decline to quote the exact
words, which rather savoured of blasphemy,
and which only the excited state of the
young men could in any way, however sorrily,
excuse. All, however, when the document
was read aloud, gave in their adhesion to the
mad-cap covenant; to which no proviso for
hindering circumstances—for affairs, illness,
or death—was added. The oath, to be and
appear in the room where the students then
were, at the Blaue Stern, next Easter-Eve
twelve months, was absolute. Some of the
company, it may be supposed, agreed to the
terms of the compact merely because they
would not seem wanting in boldness. Amongst
these more reverential, though weaker
students, I should à priori have classed Max
himself, who was pious, and a staunch Roman
Catholic to boot. (By this token: Many an
argument have I had with him on religion,
especially on Virgin-worship, but I made no
impression on him.)

"Sign! Sign!" shouted Fritz. "Come all
of you and sign! But not in vulgar ink, my
lads! The only worthy liquid wherein to
dip our pens, on such an occasion as this, is
undoubtedly our own blood—blood that has
visited our hearts! Come on! Here is my
dagger. Here goes first!"

With these words, the enthusiastic fellow
pricked himself pretty deeply in the arm,
which he bared for the purpose, and, as the
little pool of blood stood in the small wound,
turned and returned the pen in it, as if with
relish and delight. Then, he signed his name
at the bottom of the solemn engagement.
Then, the dagger was handed from one to
another, the same ceremony was repeated,
and the name of the student was added to
the list: while verbally, he pledged himself
to observe the oath. Max was the last to
sign. When the strange document was
complete, it was consigned to the custody of
Max, who carefully folded it up, and placed
it in one of the pockets of a large old
leathern pocket-book, that had been given
him by his uncle the prelate. After the
mad act came fresh potations, a renewal
of embraces, and louder noises, until the
whole of the jovial company fell asleep on the
benches in the reception-room of the Blaue
Stern.

Not long, however, did they sleep: for,
Max was to go off by the coach (Schnellwagen)
that started towards Bologna at eight
o'clock.

This I know for certain—for I was there.
All the Green-caps were at the Post to see
Max start. I looked at them curiously, for
I knew they had been drinking the greater
part of the night, and had not been in bed.
I must say, however, that none of them
looked muzzy. As Max came down from the
Castle where he had been to say Farewell,
his friends struck up a most harmonious part-
song, with voices that did not in the least
savour of debauch, but were as fresh as those
of morning-larks. The song had been
composed for the occasion by one of the
students, and was, of course, full of Lebewohl,
Freundschaft, and Wiedersehen.

Then, spectacles were almost crushed by
strict embraces, the gauntlet of which Max
poor fellow, had to run; then, as he mounted
the impériale of the Schnellwagen, there was
a parting shout, resounding along the
Lindenstrasse, down which the lumbering vehicle
soon crushed its noisy way; finally, as long
as a glimpse of Max could be discerned,
last adieus were waved by energetic
handkerchiefs of all hues, and doubtful degrees
of cleanliness, while Max, too, waved his
handkerchief (he had a white one on purpose)
in return.