As is the case with genuine old drinkers, so among these guests the conversation would not flow without wine. Just then a new personage appeared at the door. It was a little old man, with shaking legs and grey hair; his head looked like a skull over which a thin hide has been drawn, and his eyes shone dimly out of deep hollows; he was tugging at a large basket, and greeted the guests humbly. “Ah, here’s our old kellermeister, Balthasar,” called out the guests; “come on, old fellow, put down the beakers and bring our pipes! Why did you tarry so long? It struck twelve long ago.” The old man gaped once or twice rather indecently, and on the whole looked like a person who has overslept. “Came near sleeping through the 1st of September,” he grunted; “ever since they have paved the churchyard, I don’t hear as well as I did. Where are the other gentlemen?” he proceeded, taking beakers of strange shape and marvellous size out of the basket, and putting them on the table. “Where are the others? You are only six, and old Rose hasn’t come yet.” “Put the bottles down first,” exclaimed Judas, “that we may get a drop of something to drink, and then go over yonder--they are still asleep in their casks; tap them with your dry bones and tell them to get up.” But hardly had Judas ended, when there was a rush and boisterous laughter at the door. “Spinster Rose, her health, hurrah, and her sweetheart Bacchus!” The door flew open, the ghostly fellows at the table jumped up and cried: “It is she, it is she, Spinster Rose and Bacchus and the others! Hurrah! Now we’re in for a jolly good time!” and with that they touched beakers with a ringing sound and laughed, and the fat one struck his belly, and the pale kellermeister threw his cap skilfully between his legs and up to the ceiling, and joined in with the shouts of the others till my ears rang again. What a sight! The wooden Bacchus, that I had but just seen astride the cask in the cellar, had got down, naked as he was; with his broad, smiling face, with his twinkling eyes, he greeted the group and came walking skittishly into the room; by his hand he led with much ceremony as his betrothed an elderly dame of great height and of goodly roundness. I do not know to this day how it was possible, but then and there it was clear as daylight to me that this dame was no other than old Rose, the enormous cask in the Rose-cellar.