The baron was inclined to enter into conversation about the decorated tree with the landlord, an over-civil, pock-marked dwarf, whose clothes were precisely the same shade of brown as the wood in his tap-room; but refrained from doing so because two citizens of Leyden, one of whom was well known to him, sat at a short distance from his table, and he did not wish to be drawn into a quarrel in a place like this.
After Nicolas had also glanced around the tap-room, he touched his father, saying in a low tone: "Did you notice the men yonder?
The younger one--he's lifting the cover of the tankard now--is the organist who released me from the boys and gave me his cloak yesterday." "The one yonder ?" asked the nobleman.

"A handsome young fellow.

He might be taken for an artist or something of that kind.

Here, landlord, who is the gentleman with brown hair and large eyes, talking to Allertssohn, the fencing-master ?" "It's Herr Wilhelm, younger son of old Herr Cornelius, Receiver General, a player or musician, as they call them." "Eh, eh," cried the baron.

"His father is one of my old Leyden acquaintances.