"I must go down to the village," he said. "There is some one who wants to see me." And though he avoided meeting her eyes, her pathetic, beseeching glance penetrated to his innermost soul. "I shall soon be back," he stammered. She folded her hands, and placed herself silently before him. "What is it?" he asked. She could hardly articulate her words. "_Herr_! I am so frightened--I feel as if something dreadful was going to happen!" "Since when have you been given to presentiments?" he said, trying to joke. "I don't know-but I feel so strange, _Herr_! ... something in my throat--as if ... Oh! I know it's stupid of me, but I pray you--not to go--not to-night----" He pushed her gently to one side. The hand that she stretched out to hold him back fell helplessly. "Please-please don't go! ... _Herr_!" He set his teeth and went--went to his guardian angel. CHAPTER XVII The Schrandeners, as many as could leave their homes and property, were meanwhile gathered together at the Black Eagle, engaged in a farewell orgie. Old Merckel served them himself. He stood behind the bar, refilling unceasingly the empty glasses, with the melancholy smile, which to-day there was every reason to believe was not put on. "Drink, dear friends," he exhorted; "don't let the unhappy event in my family prevent you! What does it matter even if he is shot? He will die a noble death for his honour and his Fatherland!" He wiped the sweat from his shiny forehead, while his little eyes wandered in uneasy anticipation from one face to the other. "Go and take a glass, Amalie," he said, turning to the barmaid, "over to those on guard. I won't bear them malice for helping to bring him to his ruin!" The Schrandeners, deeply touched at the expression of so much high-minded sentiment, gazed into their tankards in moody anger. They would have been ashamed of rushing to the inn and displaying such avidity for a carousal in the face of their landlord's private misfortune, had they not felt they could not better show their sympathy than by taking advantage of the old man's generous impulses. So they poured beer and schnaps down their throats in positive streams, and emulated each other as to who could drink the fastest. The barmaid, as fat and cunning as her master, slipped out with a tray containing a dozen foaming tankards, after she had received a few whispered instructions from him, accompanied by a knowing nod and wink. "And if you should see old Hackelberg about," he called after her, "ask him in--ask him in. He has suffered too at the hands of the scoundrel. He ought not to be missing on this sad occasion."