This was indeed how things stood and I could remember quite clearly there and then all my correspondence with the Royal Prussian Court of Justice in Gross-Fauhlenberg. And my singular companion (already we were walking next to each other) did not stop at simply stating these facts, no. He immediately immersed himself in all the finer details of the case in point, setting out verbally all the considerations that he had previously put in writing and I answered him as if there were really no more doubt as far as I was concerned that he really was the Royal Prussian court official he claimed to be and really was called Löhnefinke. The full moon had in the meantime climbed up in the sky to the east of us and was shining directly down on our heads without my companion being in the least concerned about it. Strolling towards the bathing beach of Westerland arm in arm we became more and more absorbed in talking shop and let the moon shine down as much as it liked. We had almost reached the men's bathing huts and were nearing the steps that lead up from the beach to the top of the dunes when my colleague, who, despite his earlier exaltation had just shown himself to be an extremely clear and perceptive legal mind, all of a sudden, getting stuck in the sand, looked round, looked up and, becoming as pale as a ghost, groaned: "Ye gods, we're back in the middle of it again!" No doubt about it--we were back in the middle of it again. The fixed idea grabbed hold of the poor man afresh as he hysterically and anxiously pulled my outstretched umbrella down so that it rested on his hat and I could do nothing more for Circuit Judge Löhnefinke than to tighten my grip on his elbow and to speak to the squirming and struggling man in an admonitory tone of voice: "But my dear sir, please! Compose yourself! Compose yourself! This crackpot behaviour of yours is too much. How has this harmless source of light actually wronged you? Or what have you done to wrong it? Show some sense and convince yourself of this: this innocent satellite shows no sign whatsoever of falling on our heads." "My head hurts! My head hurts!" groaned the judge, holding the part of the body in question with both hands. "Come on now. Nobody's chasing you. Nobody's after you. Your reaction is quite unnecessary. Don't take what I say amiss." "Nobody? Nobody?" groaned Löhnefinke. "Nobody! I'll tell you what--let's go up there. We'll find people in that restaurant, conviviality, some beverage or other to cheer us up and definitely a paraffin lamp which will put your enemy, male or female, in the shade." "Paraffin!" Löhnefinke muttered to himself, catching hold of and holding onto the word like a guilty man in the high court a cry of 'Amnesty'? "Listen. There's still a brass band playing up there. How about we sit down for a while to imbibe a glass of grog and..." "...wait for the moon to go down? Yes. That would be the right thing to do."