thinking of, to be entertaining such a distinguished gentleman with this rubbish! You can't help me, and if you could, a man doesn't allow himself to be helped by his good friends--he applies to his good enemies." Brandow laughed loudly, and starting up, paced hastily up and down the room with an agitated air, and at last stopped before the closet containing his weapons, pulled a pistol from its nail, cocked it, and turning towards Gotthold, cried: "Only, unfortunately, the good friends are often the same as the good enemies, so that one can't separate them. Don't you think so!" "It may happen so," said Gotthold quietly; "but you would do better to hang up the pistol again; your hand is too unsteady for such tricks to-night; some accident might occur." Gotthold was determined not to enter upon an explanation with the half-intoxicated man this evening, under any circumstances; and equally determined not to yield to his threats, if this was intended for one, and permit the ransom money to be extorted, which he must pay if he wished to leave the place without any further difficulty. The expression of calm decision upon the grave countenance of his guest had not escaped Brandow; he let the half-raised weapon fall, laid it aside, came back to the table, threw himself into his chair, and said: "You are right! Some accident might happen; but no one would care, and, after all, it would only be consistent if I should put a bullet through my brain. You are a lucky fellow. You have been obliged to work from your early youth, and so have learned a great deal; now a great fortune, more than you can use, comes to you without the least trouble. I have never worked, have learned nothing, and I lose a property without which I am nothing, less than nothing: the jest of all who have known me, a scarecrow to the gay birds I have hitherto equalled or excelled, and who now leave the poor plucked crow to his fate. Death and the devil!" He dashed his glass down upon the table so violently that it broke. "Oh, pshaw! the matter is not worth getting into a passion about. Everything must have an end, and however they may jeer at me, nobody can say I have not enjoyed life. I have drunk the best wine, ridden the fastest horses, and kissed the prettiest women. You are a connoisseur too, Gotthold; you have done just the same in your quiet way, of course. Yes, you were always a sly-boots, and I had a cursed respect for your cunning, even in our school-days. Well, no offence; I am not very stupid, and clever people, like you and me, always get along together; it's only dunces who quarrel--dunces, silly boys, as we were then. Do you remember? Tierce, quart, quart, tierce! Ha! ha! ha! That wouldn't suit us now. Touch glasses, old boy, and drink! Drink to good fellowship!" And he held out his brimming glass. "My glass is empty," said Gotthold; "and so is the bottle. Let us go to bed; we have drunk more than enough."