"The old woman is drunk," muttered Wallbach, as he returned to his place at the next table. Philip had excused himself for a quarter of an hour from the old lady to go round the room, and was now going from table to table with his glass, which had to be constantly replenished, in his hand, received here with praises of the splendid feast, there with cordial shouts, "Splendid, my dear fellow!" "Well done, my boy!" and at several points with hurrahs and drinking of healths; while at others people seemed to require a reminder that the gentleman in the white tie and waistcoat, with the broad forehead, and the courteous smile on his red, clean-shaven face, who stood there glass in hand before them, was the master of the house. Philip had gone the round of the room, and must now pay a visit to the conservatory which opened out of the room. He came here at once upon a large table surrounded by young men, who received him with such enthusiasm that he seemed quite to overlook a smaller table close by, and with a wave of his hand and a jesting word to the young men was passing on farther, when a hoarse well-known voice said: "Now then, Schmidt, are not we to have the honour?" Philip's face quivered, but it was beaming as if in joyful surprise as he turned round and threw up his arms, crying, "At last! Why, Lübbener, Councillor! Where the deuce have you been hiding? I really thought I was to be deprived of this pleasure. And you are quite alone, too! Like the lions, you keep apart!" "We were late comers," said the Councillor, touching Philip's extended glass with his; "it was a mere matter of chance!" "As long as you are amusing yourselves," said Philip. "Certainly," answered Lübbener. "We can see here into both rooms. It is the best place of all." "Then it belongs to you by right," cried Philip. "The best place in the room. The best in the house! Where would room and house be without you, my good Hugo? Dear old man!" And, as if overcome with emotion, he took the little man in his arms, and held him, not daring to resist, pressed to his breast, when a loud voice a few steps from them cried, "Gentlemen!" "Oh, horror!" exclaimed Philip, letting Lübbener out of his embrace. "Ladies and gentlemen--" The speaker was a bank clerk from the young men's table, famed among his companions for his extraordinary talent for after-dinner speeches. He had so placed himself, glass in hand, between the dining-room and the conservatory that he might have been heard in both rooms, if, in the noise which increased every moment, one man's voice had not been as much lost as a drop in the ocean. "Stand on a chair, Norberg!" "Hear, hear!" "Stand on two chairs, Norberg; one is of no use." "Ladies and gentlemen--" "Louder, louder! Silence! Hear, hear!"