This expression seemed to the doctor so eminently fitted to the occasion that he burst into a coarse laugh, which so irritated Herr von Heydeck that he started up, exclaiming, "What are you laughing at? I should think matters looked grave enough! I ask you for counsel, not for idiotic laughter----" This angry outbreak only increased the doctor's tipsy merriment. "You're a wonderfully fine old fellow!" he said, vainly trying to steady his voice. "But, still, you're an old coward, afraid of your own shadow, and a skinflint into the bargain! But never mind, we're the best of friends, and I'll stand by you in this matter with your wife's son. He shall not hurt you, depend upon me. But we'll have no more of the stupid old story to-day: we'll drink and be merry. Take a glass, you old sinner; come, and don't put such a d----d wry face on the matter." He held out to Herr von Heydeck a glass of wine as he spoke, but the old man rejected it angrily. He had been so absorbed by interest in his own narrative that he had not until this moment noticed the condition of his listener. What advice or aid could he look for from this sot? "You are drunk again," he said with contempt. "Go home and sleep it off!" This was just what the doctor desired. He knew that his brain was confused, and that he was not in a condition to talk without betraying his secret intentions; therefore he had feigned to be more drunk than he really was, hoping thus to end the conversation for to-day. "You may be right, old Solomon!" he exclaimed, with a loud laugh. "I am a little cloudy, and a nap can do me no harm. I'll come again tomorrow and have another talk. Sleep in peace; you need not be afraid; you and I are more than a match for the young fellow!" He arose, and although he knew he had already drunk too much, he could not withstand the temptation of the glass that was standing filled upon the table, but emptied it before he turned towards the door. Then, nodding a familiar farewell to Herr von Heydeck, who took no notice of it, he left the room by the same door by which he had entered. When he reached Melcher's apartment he thought his head felt less confused and that his gait was sufficiently steady to justify his refusing the old man's proffered guidance down the mountain, and accordingly he left the castle alone. As he reached the court-yard a cool breeze was blowing down the valley from the snow-mountains in the north, and by the time he had crossed the bridge the wine had produced its full effect upon him. So far from being able to reflect upon the best way in which to carry out his schemes, he needed all the mind he could muster to provide for his safety in descending the mountain. His capacity for thought was not quite destroyed, although his brain was thoroughly bewildered. CHAPTER XII.