Several young officers had gathered together already, and so had some mechanics; and the boys, in the meantime, threw snowballs among both parties, that their share in the fun might not be lost.  The first ball hit the noble lieutenant on the nose, and thinking it an attack from the canaille, he raised his sabre.  The fight began.

The Prince, who had laughed amazingly at the first commencement of the uproar, had betaken himself to another region, and felt quite unconcerned as to the result.  In the course of his wanderings, he came to the palace of Count Bodenlos, the Minister of Finance, with whom, as Philip had discovered at the masquerade, the Prince was not on the best terms.  The Countess had a large party.  Julian saw the lighted windows, and still feeling poetically disposed, he planted himself opposite the balcony, and blew a peal on his horn.  Several ladies and gentlemen opened the shutters, because they had nothing better to do, and listened to what he should say.

“Watchman,” cried one of them, “sing us a New Year’s greeting!”

This invitation brought a fresh accession of the Countess’ party to the windows.  Julian called the hour in the usual manner, and sang, loud enough to be distinctly heard inside: 

    “Ye who groan with heavy debts,
     And swift approaching failure frets,
     Pray the Lord that He this hour
     May raise you to some place of power;
     And while the nation wants and suffers,
     Fill your own from the people’s coffers.”

“Outrageous!” screamed the lady of the Minister; “who is the insolent wretch that dares such an insult?”

“Pleashe your exshellenshy,” answered Julian, imitating the Jewish dialect in voice and manner, “I vash only intendsh to shing you a pretty shong.  I am de Shew Abraham Levi, vell known at dish court.  Your ladyship knowsh me ver’ well.”

“How dare you tell such a lie, you villain?” exclaimed a voice, trembling with rage, at one of the windows; “how dare you say you are Abraham Levi?  I am Abraham Levi!  You are a cheat!”

“Call the police!” cried the Countess.  “Have that man arrested!”

At these words the party confusedly withdrew from the windows.  Nor did the Prince remain where he was, but quickly effected his escape through a cross-street.  A crowd of servants rushed out of the palace, led by the secretaries of the Finance Minister, and commenced a search for the offender.  “We have him!” cried some, as the rest eagerly approached.  It was in fact the real guardian of the night, who was carefully perambulating his beat, in innocent unconsciousness of any offence.  In spite of all he could say, he was disarmed and carried off to the watch-house, and charged with causing a disturbance by singing libellous songs.  The officer of the police shook his head at the unaccountable event, and said:  “We have already one watchman in custody, whose verses about some girl caused a very serious affray between the town’s people and the garrison.”