"Listen. You are Colonel of the negroes--of the blacks--and there are people who say that negroes are not human beings. Now listen! What is it that man alone can do, and that neither horse nor ox nor stag can do like him?"
"Why, speak, to be sure."
"Wrong: The beasts do speak; but we are too stupid to understand them. No; I mean something quite different: man alone can drink wine. If the negroes can drink wine, they are men just as we are. Tell me, can negroes drink wine?"
"Yes."
"All right, then. Here's to the health of our black brethren."
He emptied his glass and was about to walk away, when Richard called out: "Stop! I ask all to join me in drinking the health of the great man who has solved the question of slavery, in wine. Long live our great philosopher--Rothfuss!"
It seemed as if the cheers would never end, and Rothfuss called out, "To-day I will get jolly drunk seven times at least--no, seven times is not enough!"
When we at last arose from the table, I inquired for Rothfuss. I was concerned about him, for he had been acting like a crazy man.
Ikwarte said that, although Rothfuss showed signs of having drunk too much, he had gone up into the woods and had taken a bottle of champagne with him.
They hunted and hunted, and at last found him. He was asleep, and the empty bottle was lying on the ground by his side.