"Hear, hear!" chortled the Candidate. He hiccoughed, and then became stonily immovable again. "My dear nephew Leo, who well knows what a treasure he possesses in his grateful old uncle, honest old Uncle Kutowski, who would rather drink nothing but water, and never go out with a girl, than not do his duty to the death.... Now then, you may howl, if you like, you colour-dauber." Instead of the painter, the Candidate set up a howl, in which the whole company joined. "This Leo," the old man went on, "knowing that in comparison with his old uncle's genius for management, his would be nowhere, shook the dust of the place from his feet, and has now been wandering about the world for years, in order, it would appear, not to disturb our pleasant little gatherings with the annoyance of his presence. The capital young man cannot be praised sufficiently for so much tender consideration. Let us, therefore, drink to my aristocratic nephew, Leo von Sellenthin ... Long may he live and----" "Good evening, my friends," Leo said, opening the door, and thinking that he could not possibly have had a better cue than this for his entry on to the stage. There was a terrible silence. The brewer, who was a tall old Bavarian, crossed himself; the bailiffs ducked their heads, as if they expected blows. The Candidate stood with his hand glued to his budding moustache; and Uncle Kutowski--the honest old uncle--stared at his nephew with a face as white as chalk, a blue tip to his nose, and the tankard of beer still held in his upraised hand in an attitude of involuntary welcome. It happened that a diversion was made at this moment by the beer-barrel, to which the brewer had been clinging as to a rock of refuge, tumbling off its stand and rolling with a violent crashing noise under Leo's feet. He kicked it aside, and let his glance pass contemptuously from one face to the other. The student with the scarred countenance was the first to collect himself. He rose deliberately, and with a persuasive eloquence, which doubtless he had had opportunities of practising as university orator, he began-- "Really, you have come home just at the propitious moment, Herr von Sellenthin--just when your friends and confidential servants are festively met together to do honour to their absent squire, to-day being the anniversary of--of----" He hummed and hawed, trying to improvise speedily something that would give the day an important significance, which he probably would have accomplished had not Leo saved him the trouble. "With whom have I the pleasure of speaking?" he asked, towering to his full height over the wretched youth. "Kurt Brenckenberg--Guestphaliæ Normanneæque," he answered, beginning to swell visibly. Leo grinned. "Do you belong to the house?" "What, I? I am here as Herr von Kutowski's guest," answered the youth, loftily.