At last only lieutenants remained, except Major Schrader and Captain von Gropphusen. The one other senior officer, Captain Mohr, did not count. He had not quitted his seat the whole evening, and still went on persistently drinking with the assistant-surgeon, an exceedingly stout man, with a face scarred by students' fights. The scars were glowing now as if they would burst. The subalterns could feel quite at their ease, for Schrader and Gropphusen were no spoil-sports. Manitius now sang his "Behüet dich Gott," rather unsteadily, accompanied by Frommelt, who was quite tipsy. The song was a great success, for the young _avantageur_ was overcome by emotion, and began blubbering about a certain Martha whom he loved prodigiously, and whom he must now abandon, because he would never be permitted to marry a barmaid. On this Schrader suddenly tore open his uniform and offered him nourishment from his hairy breast, and the boy sank weeping into his arms. At last the comedy grew wearisome. The _avantageur_ was sent off to bed, and Frommelt had to play a cancan, to which Gropphusen and Landsberg danced. Gropphusen was supple and agile, and, with his pale, handsome, rather worn face, looked a perfect Montmartre type. Landsberg, on the contrary, cut a grotesque figure, kicking up his long shoes in the air, and as he did so almost choking in his unduly high collar. The company became smaller and smaller, and at last only two groups were left. In the card-room half-a-dozen men still sat awhile at one of the tables, and in the mess-room Captain Mohr and the junior surgeon continued drinking. They had long ago given up conversation; but occasionally one of them would say "Prosit!" and then they would both drink. When at last they left their seats they found the orderly in the ante-room half-asleep, half drunk, fallen from his chair, and lying snoring on the ground. Growling "Damned swine!" the assistant-surgeon kicked the man till he rose, and with an effort stood upright. When the last two officers had left the mess-house he locked the doors, drank the end of a bottle of champagne, and lay down to sleep on the sofa in the smoking-room. The sofa-cover was a sacred relic, a present to the mess-house from an officer in the East African forces, who had formerly belonged to the regiment. It was a magnificent specimen of Oriental art. The orderly found the thick gold embroidery very uncomfortable to his cheek; but then it certainly was a fine thing to scratch his head with! When Reimers, who had left early, reached his quarters, he was surprised to find his servant waiting up for him. "Why on earth are you not in bed?" he inquired. Gähler answered respectfully, "Beg pardon, sir, on such occasions the count used sometimes to need me; he often went out again." "Well, I don't. So remember that in future," enjoined Reimers. Gähler still waited, and asked, "Would you like some tea, sir?"