"'A thousand devils, madam!' said I to the lady, 'what I have to say to the councillor is not fit for your chaste ears.' 'Never mind; say on, sir!' Then, baron, I began to recount a tale of the barracks which would have made a Pandour blush." At this new jest the baron had a new spasm of laughter, and exclaimed: "A barrack-story to the prudish and devout Flachsinfingen! I would have given--devil take me if I wouldn't--my old hound Moick, if I could have witnessed that scene; and what did she say?" "She blushed red as a lobster, called me insolent, and made me a sign to go away." "If that is the course you take to interest your judges in your cause, my guest, I wish you joy of it," said the governor. "And what the devil should I find to say to a learned man or to a prude? One cannot make himself over again." "Certainly not," murmured the baron; "the poor boy is like me; he would find it difficult to accustom himself to the jargon of a doctor and the babbling of an old woman." "Then only you remained to be seen, baron. I have seen you; you are a brave man . . . and I am afraid to bother you with my affairs. . . . But this lawsuit . . . if you knew . . . if I lose it! I seem to be an easy-going fellow; but look at me; if this were . . . if I lose it" . . . said Létorière, with energy, "I will never survive. S'death! I should pray St. Cartridge and my rifle to have mercy on me!" Having permitted this sinister secret to escape him, Létorière appeared to collect his ideas, passed his hand over his forehead, and looked around him with an air of astonishment. "Ah, well, where am I? You there, baron? Come, come, your Rhine wine is excellent, but devilish strong. My lord, I've been asleep, I think" . . . and the Marquis, in spite of all his efforts, lowered his eyelids, which seemed to be heavy. "You haven't slept, but you ought to, I think, and your cup is full." "Then empty it for me, baron . . . for . . . the lawsuit . . . the stag . . . to-day . . . All! to the devil with the lawsuit--_vive la chase!_ something to drink . . . to you, baron, . . ." and Létorière feigned to become drowsy, and let his head fall on his arms. "He refuses to drink, and I am conqueror!" cried the governor. He called Selbitz and Erhard, as much to prove his triumph over the Frenchman, as to order them to help his guest to the rat-chamber. Létorière, whose head was as calm as the baron's, received their offered aid, ascended the staircase mechanically, and fell heavily on his mean bed. The baron felt strangely embarrassed. If he had been profoundly interested in Létorière, especially since the latter had made him believe that he could not survive the loss of his lawsuit; he had also formally promised his vote to the German princes, whose cause he truly believed to be just.