He told how he too had been unable to find quarters in Starnberg, and had left the horse on which he had ridden out at the tavern, in order to make the remaining half-hour's journey to Rossel's country-seat on foot; and that, in trying to follow the rather confused directions which had been given him, he had gone a good deal out of his way. It was this that had reduced him to his present demoralized condition. But he would not disturb them on any account, and only asked for a drop of water and a corner where he could stretch himself out, for he was as tired as a dog, and would be content even with a dog's kennel. He drained off a large glass of wine at a single swallow, then, with averted face, shook hands with his friends and made a few forced jokes--something he never thought of doing when he was quite himself. He flatly refused to accept of Kohle's offer to give up his bed to him, but gladly consented to be led into the studio, where, by the aid of a few blankets, a deer-skin, and a shawl, they succeeded in transforming an old garden-bench into a very respectable bed. Then, without even waiting for the others who had escorted him up-stairs to leave the room, he threw himself down upon the couch--"already half in the other world," he tried to say, jestingly, as he nodded good-night to the others. Shaking their heads, his friends left him. It was evident that this late visit could be explained by no such innocent circumstances as had occasioned that of the two who had preceded him. But, while they were still standing outside the door exchanging remarks about Felix's singular condition, they learned from the deep breathing within that the object of their anxiety had fallen fast asleep. CHAPTER III. The clear song of the birds awoke him while it was still in the gray of the morning, and not a sound could be heard in the house below. The tops of the pine-trees, seen through the broad studio-window, recalled to his mind where he was, and how and why he had strayed thither.