"And I stood there and could have knocked my brains out; for it occurred to me in a second what a wonderful figure I must have cut in the affair. But the best is still to come. What did the woman have under her cloak? In struggling with her I had several times struck against it, and noticed that it must be something four-cornered, something like a picture-frame. And suddenly, as I was very sulkily sneaking back again toward the house, it occurred to me, 'what if it were the Bride of Corinth! Now, supposing I go and see what really became of it.' I knew perfectly well out of which window Stephanopulos had sent it flying. So I searched and searched--but, grope about as I would, no trace of it could be discovered, and inasmuch as the ground all around the place is still full of little puddles, and the flame must undoubtedly have been immediately extinguished, you may bet ten to one that these spying night-rovers saw it burning--perhaps indeed were first led by it to slink into the garden; and that now they have borne away their booty to a place of safety." A great tumult followed upon this communication. Some of the youngest, excited by wine, wanted to rush out on the track of the flying women, in order that they might recover the stolen property. The wildest proposals were heard as to how they should take revenge for this outrage, and how they should prevent such a desecration of their mystic rites in the future. All these noisy ones were silenced when Jansen suddenly took up the matter, and admonished them to listen to reason. What was done here had no cause to shun the light. The only one who was personally affected by the matter was Stephanopulos. Since he did not appear to be much troubled, the others might rest content. So said, so done; and the festive feeling once more burst forth in all its glory. The wine loosened even the heaviest tongues; every one sought out the neighbor he liked best; and even the young Greek thawed out so thoroughly from his ill-humor that he condescended to sing some of the popular airs of his native land, which earned him great applause. In the mean while Philip Emanuel Kohle went up and down the hall, like one of the gracious genii, with head high in air and beaming look, bearing his goblet in his hand, and drinking toasts with everybody--to the ideal--to resignation and the gods of Greece--and declaiming, in the intervals, verses of Hölderlin. Schnetz also seemed to be in admirable spirits. He had seated himself astride of the little cask in the corner, had a few sprigs of wild-grape vine above his close-cropped head, and was delivering an oration that no one heard.