The mirth and fun of the feast were at their height now. The commander-in-chief had ordered that at twelve o'clock all officers should be in their respective quarters, including those who had been told off to the houses of the ranger, the mayor, and the other chief denizens of the village. It was past eleven o'clock already. No time was to be lost, if the guests wished to drain the cup of delight which the hospitable mansion-house proffered in such abundance. "Vivat Champagne!" exclaimed one of the young officers, taking a glass of the foaming wine from the salver which a footman offered him. "And pretty girls!" returned his friend von Köppingen, emptying his goblet at one draught, replacing it on the salver, and turning upon his heel to hurry to the fair Augusta, with whom he was engaged to dance the _Rheinländer_, the music of which the orchestra was just playing. "And where have you been, Ringberg?" asked another comrade, Herr von Rollintz; "been gambling a little?" "You know I never play," replied Kurt, who was leaning against the door. "Nor dance? Well, well, you are always so sensible; I feel half dead already, upon my honour! And yet I have to dance this _Rheinländer_ with the belle of the ball. I am looking for her everywhere; have you seen her, perchance? Ah, there she is!" Von Rollintz flew right across the room to meet Erna, who was just entering from the tea-room. A minute later the pair whirled past Kurt; von Rollintz, with radiant and glowing face, chattering even during the dance, Erna still and pale, the long dark eyelashes lowered. Kurt gazed gloomily after them; then he turned away and began pacing the verandah. After a little while he saw, at the end opposite to him, a gentleman ascending the steps, in whom, as soon as the bright light fell upon him, he recognised Bertram. The young man advanced rapidly two or three steps, then paused hesitatingly. "Why, after all!" he murmured, "everything now would be in vain." Bertram, who had gone up to one of the windows of the ball-room, was now slowly coming along the verandah. It was painful to Kurt to meet the man to whom, but a minute ago, he had been willing to apply for help. So, happening to be just in front of the card-room, he slipped in. "He avoids me," said Bertram to himself. "In that case the mountain will indeed have to go to Mahomet!" As he was about to look for Kurt in the card-room, he saw, on his way past the open doors of the ball room, Lydia in conversation with one of the older officers, a conversation carried on by Lydia with her customary abundance of gesture and the frequent use of her fan. He drew nearer, and, as he had hoped, her ever-roving glance had soon lighted upon him. A slight movement of his eyes was sufficient for the highly experienced lady, who left the Major with a jesting word, and tripped up to Bertram. "You have something to tell me, dear friend?" "Can you spare me one minute?" "One minute? For you?"