"That is hard," exclaimed Francis; "hard that I am to speak the scoundrel fair, when I should like to fall upon him at once, tooth and nail. But you are right. I am called the wild Frank, and, as I should not dare to tell the real cause, I should be thought by every one in the wrong. I'll look out, therefore, for a quiet spot where I may right myself without any interruption or disturbance. But where shall I find you afterwards to thank you for your information?" "When all is done, you will see me again, unmasked," replied the gipsy with peculiar emphasis. "My word upon it! I shall keep that word better than many a man his oath!" "You are a strange being," cried Francis, struck by the word as if by a secret blow from a dagger. For several moments he stared at her fixedly and thoughtfully with large and drunken eyes, and then stammered, "I don't altogether know what to make of you. Sometimes you appear so familiar to me that my hair stands on end; at others, you sit by me like my evil conscience, and torture me at your own good-will. Again, you seem to be a sort of fiend, who would tempt me to some sin, and then laugh me to scorn when I had done your pleasure. If I had not so much Tokay in my brain, I should be able to unravel all this, and find out upon what footing we were. But that won't do now, and so let my first resolution abide, in the devil's name! Chalk your soles well, Tausdorf; I fetch you to a merry dance of death." He hurried back into the ball-room. "I am almost sorry that I must hound on this beast against the noble Tausdorf; but no choice was left me. He may defend himself. On one side blind wrath and drunkenness; on the other, sober courage. It cannot fail. Good night, Francis!" In the meanwhile Althea and Tausdorf were gliding round in the graceful[2] German dance, and about them stood the guests, looking with delight on the pair that seemed to be made for each other. Christopher, indeed, eyed them maliciously, and at times cast a troubled glance at the side-chamber. At last Francis came out, death in his looks: his worthy brother immediately beckoned to him, and proffered a full goblet, which he seized and hastily swallowed. "I have drunk this glass to the devil's brotherhood!" he whispered to Christopher, and then mixed amongst the spectators. Schindel, who had overheard him, exclaimed to Christopher, "What means the libertine by those impious words?" "The heathen god, Bacchus, can best tell that," replied Christopher, while with a quiet laugh he filled the goblet again. "To explain what a drunkard means one must be drunk one's self, and I, thank God, have kept myself sober, to be able to see that all goes on right." "That last glass was one too much," said Schindel reproachfully. "You should not have given him any thing more to drink. If now he should do any mischief in his drunkenness?"