as if by some severe illness. His
eyes, roaming restlessly about the room, had a piercing, feverish
glitter, so that his friends stormed him with questions as to whether
he was sick or had seen a ghost on his way through the wood.

He gave a forced laugh, passed his hand across his cold forehead, on
which great beads of perspiration were standing, and declared that he
had never felt better in his life, and that he was as proof against
ghosts as the babe unborn. In spite of all this, there was something
constrained in all his movements, and his voice sounded hoarse and
unnatural, as it often does when a person is laboring under great
excitement.

He told how he too had been unable to find quarters in Starnberg, and
had left the horse on which he had ridden out at the tavern, in order
to make the remaining half-hour's journey to Rossel's country-seat on
foot; and that, in trying to follow the rather confused directions
which had been given him, he had gone a good deal out of his way. It
was this that had reduced him to his present demoralized condition. But
he would not disturb them on any account, and only asked for a drop of
water and a corner where he could stretch himself out, for he was as
tired as a dog, and would be content even with a dog's kennel.

He drained off a large glass of wine at a single swallow, then, with
averted face, shook hands with his friends and made a few forced
jokes--something he never thought of doing when he was quite himself.
He flatly refused to accept of Kohle's offer to give up his bed to him,
but gladly consented to be led into the studio, where, by the aid of a
few blankets, a deer-skin, and a shawl, they succeeded in transforming
an old garden-bench into a very respectable bed. Then, without even
waiting for the others who had escorted him up-stairs to leave the
room, he threw himself down upon the couch--"already half in the other
world," he tried to say, jestingly, as he nodded good-night to the
others.

Shaking their heads, his friends left him. It was evident that this
late visit could be explained by no such innocent circumstances as had
occasioned that of the two who had preceded him. But, while they were
still standing outside the door exchanging remarks about Felix's
singular condition, they learned from the deep breathing within that
the object of their anxiety had fallen fast asleep.

CHAPTER III.

The clear song of the birds awok