The light of the lamp shed over the whole scene its amber-coloured hue and left in the shade the old grey and time-stained walls, where hung in ample numbers the brazen convolutions of the hunting-horns and bugles.

What an original picture!  The vaulted roof was ringing with the joyous shouts of laughter.

Sperver, as I have already told, was lifting high the full bumper and singing the song of Black Hatto, the Burgrave,

“I am king on these mountains of mine,”

while the rosy dew of Affenthal hung trembling from his long moustaches.  As soon as he caught sight of me he stopped, and holding out his hand—­

“Fritz,” said he, “we only wanted you.  It is a long time since I felt so comfortable as I do to-night.  You are welcome, old boy!”

As I gazed upon him with surprise—­for since the death of Lieverle I had never seen him smile—­he added more seriously—­

“We are celebrating the return of monseigneur to his health, and Knapwurst is telling us stories.”

All the guests turned my way, and I was saluted with kindly welcomes on all sides.

I was dragged in by Sebalt, seated near Marie Lagoutte, and found a large glass of Bohemian wine in my hand before I could quite understand the meaning of it all.

The old hall was echoing with merry peals of laughter, and Sperver, throwing his arm round my neck, holding his cup high, and with an attempt at gravity which showed plainly that the wine was up in his head, he shouted—­

“Here is my son!  He and I—­I and he—­until death!  Here’s the health of Doctor Fritz!”

Knapwurst, standing as high as he was able upon the seat of his arm-chair, not unlike a turnip half divided in two, leaned towards me and held me out his glass.  Marie Lagoutte shook out the long streamers of her cap, and Sebalt, upright before his chair, as gaunt and lean as the shade of the wild jaeger amongst the heather, repeated, “Your health, Doctor Fritz!” whilst the flakes of silvery foam ran down his cup and floated gently down upon the stone-flagged floor.

Then there was a moment’s silence.  Every guest drank.  Then, with a single clash, every glass was set vigorously down upon the table.

“Bravo!” cried Sperver.

Then turning to me—­

“Fritz, we have already drunk to the health of the count and of Mademoiselle Odile; you will do the same.”

Twice had I to drain the cup before the vigilant eyes of the whole table.  Then I too began to look grave.  Could it have been drunken gravity?  A luminous radiance seemed shed on every object; faces stood out brightly from the darkness, and looked more nearly upon me; in truth, there were youthful faces and aged, pretty and ugly, but all alike beamed upon me kindly, and lovingly, and tenderly; but it was the youngest, at the other end of the table, whose bright eyes attracted me, and we exchanged long and wistful glances, full of affection and sympathy!