ghted up, and he began,
bright morning as it was, to speak of his work in the same spirit of
high-strung enthusiasm in which he had fallen asleep the night before,
and to give his explanation of the sketches, which, when unrolled,
extended across the whole breadth of the studio. Then the fact that
Rossel had given him leave to make use of the walls of the dining-room,
and had even offered to assist in the painting, had to be communicated
to Felix. Then, at last, he told him about the others; how they had
risen long ago, and, without waiting for breakfast, had started off for
Starnberg--Rosenbusch on matters connected with their love affairs,
and in order to make arrangements for effecting a meeting in the
afternoon; while Elfinger, who was passionately fond of fishing, had
gone to a trout-brook near the Seven Springs, with whose owner he was
acquainted--for he insisted upon contributing his share to the day's
dinner. The master of the house himself never made his appearance
before nine or ten o'clock. He was in the habit of taking his
breakfast, and of smoking and reading, in bed; declaring that even then
the day was much too long for him not to shorten it by any legitimate
stratagem.

But Kohle had not yet finished what he was saying when the stairs once
more began to creak, this time under a slower and more ponderous tread.
Contrary to his usual habit, Fat Rossel had turned out early, in order
to make inquiries concerning Felix's condition. He had not even taken
time to complete his toilet, but came in his dressing-gown, his bare
feet thrust into his slippers. He was perceptibly relieved when Felix,
looking fresh and bright again, advanced to meet him and shook his
hand, really touched that his anxious friend should have sacrificed his
comfort for his sake.

"There are good fellows still left in this wretched world," he cried;
"and I should be a villain indeed to make their lives uncomfortable. It
is true, my friends, all within and about me is not just as it should
be. But whoever shall see me drawing down the corners of my mouth and
making a long face to-day, let him call me a Nazarene and break his
maulstick over my back."

Rossel nodded his head thoughtfully at these words, for this sudden
change in the young man's mood did not appear quite natural to him;
however, he did not say a word, but seated himself on the stool before
the easel--having first laid a pillow on it--in order to study Kohle's
designs.

"H