A large number of musicians mounted on horses or mules surrounded the two-wheeled cart in which sat Hernbeize of Ghent, the treasurer of the orchestra, and his fat wife.  The corpulent couple, squeezed closely together, silent and out of humour, had taken no notice of each other or their surrounding since Frau Olympia had presumed to drag her husband by force out of the first wagon, where he was paying a visit to a clarionet player’s pretty young wife.

Whenever Wolf appeared he urged the horsemen and drivers to greater haste, and thus the musical caravan, with its unauthorized companions, succeeded in passing through the gate ere it closed.  Beyond it the travellers were received by Quijada, the imperial valet, Adrian Dubois, and several quartermasters, who meanwhile had provided lodgings.

The major-domo greeted the musicians with dignified condescension, Wolf with familiar friendship.  Master Adrian, the valet, also shook hands cordially with him and Massi, the “first violin” of the orchestra.  Finally Don Luis rode up to Wolf and informed him that the Queen of Hungary wished to speak to him early the next morning, and that he also had something important to discuss at the earliest opportunity.  Then he listened to the complaints of the quartermasters.

These men, who performed their duties with great lack of consideration, had supposed that they had provided for all the expected arrivals, but, after counting heads, they discovered that the billets were sufficient for only half the number.  Their attempt to escape providing for the wives was baffled by the vigorous interposition of the treasurer and by a positive order from Quijada.

Of course, under these circumstances they were very glad to have Sir Wolf Hartschwert return his billet—­the room in the Crane allotted to him by the valet was large enough to accommodate half a dozen women.

The nobleman returning to his home had no occasion to find shelter in a tavern.

Yet, as he wished to remove the traces of the long ride ere he entered his own house and appeared before the person for whose sake he had gladly left Brussels, he asked Massi’s permission to use his room in the Red Cock for a short time.

Leonhard Leitgeb, the landlord, and his bustling better half received Wolf as a neighbour’s son and an old acquaintance.  But, after they had shown him and Massi to the room intended for them and gone downstairs again, the landlady of the Cock shook her head, saying: 

“He was always a good lad and a clever one, too, but even if a duke’s coronet should fall upon the thin locks of the poor knight’s son I should never take him for a real nobleman.”

“Better let that drop,” replied her husband.  “Besides, the fine fellow is of more consequence since he had the legacy.  If he should come here for our Kattl, I’ll wager you wouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“Indeed I wouldn’t,” cried the landlady, laughing.  “But just hear what a racket those soldiers are making again down below!”