"What do you mean, Selbitz? He is so young . . . but notwithstanding his youth, he is a hardy combatant. Yesterday he went ahead of me; to contend two days in succession is too much for him. But after myself, I do not know anybody who can equal him." . . . "Use him up then, my lord . . . use him up, for the honor of old Germany," . . . said the traitorous major-domo. "Well, Marquis," said the governor, in a loud voice, "is your song already finished? Shall we not drink to your glorious chase to-day?" "Let's drink!" said the Marquis, holding out his tankard with an arm that seemed heavy. . . . Then, having drank, he repeated in a low and sad voice the last few lines of his song: "'See the brown night And the moonlight; We will go back Home without seeing The huntsman in black.'" "He is dull in his liquor," said the baron to his major-domo. "He puts me in mind of Count Ralph, who, you know, monsieur, at about the tenth bottle almost always sings the psalm for the dead," answered Selbitz. "Come, Marquis, to the first wild boar that we shall take!" said the baron, wishing to strike a last blow at the Marquis's reason. "Let's drink!" said Létorière, who began from that time to show slight symptoms of intoxication, speaking by turns slowly and rapidly, sadly and joyfully. "The chase, baron--'tis good, the chase . . . wine also . . . it stupefies--it transports, gives no time for thought; and then it makes one gay, and at last . . . but, bah! hold on, baron, I must tell you something in confidence." . . . "What, confidences so soon?" cried the major-domo. "That's like the minister at Blumenthal,--but his reverence does not begin before the eighth tankard. You remember, my lord, the good story he told us of the jolly miller's wife of Val-aux-Primevères?" "Hold your tongue, and listen!" said the governor; who replied aloud, "speak, speak, Marquis! Come, let's drink to your confidences." . . . "Well, then, baron, imagine that my lawsuit has turned my brain." . . . "Truly, Marquis!" said he aloud. "I'm sure of it," he continued in a low voice . . . "this poor boy wishes to drown his thoughts." . . . "True, as that my glass is empty. . . . I wouldn't tell you this, baron . . . but you are my friend . . . I ought to confide in you. . . . Know that I have made a visit to my judges." . . . "Ah, bah!" said the baron, gratified with his guest's involuntary communicativeness, and very eager to draw from him the secret, perhaps, of his visits. "You have seen your judges, have you?" "Yes, baron, the first one was named . . . Spectre." . . . "You mean to say Sphex, Marquis?" "Sphex, or Spectre . . . 'tis all the same to me . . . but a thousand guns! baron, I must laugh . . . although it may be at one of your confrères . . . 'tis not my fault . . . I have as great regard for a man learned in us . . . as for a broken glass or a foundered horse." . . .