The voice of the Marquis seemed to lose its strength as he sang these last words, in a rhythm melancholy and almost sorrowful; his countenance lost its joyous and careless expression, and a shade of sadness passed over his brow, which he soon supported with his hand.
Selbitz, who was just at that moment behind his master's chair, said to him, in a low voice, pointing to the Marquis:
"When the flower is too plentifully watered it bends on its stalk; when the business on hand is drinking, to-day is not always the son of yesterday. Come, come, my lord, you will always be the widerkom vierge! Here's this Frenchman supporting his forehead with his left hand; the intoxication of the forester-general of Hasbreck always begins in that way; but, to do the latter justice, that is always so from the first day."
The baron laughed with an air of proud satisfaction, and answered in a low voice:
"What do you mean, Selbitz? He is so young . . . but notwithstanding his youth, he is a hardy combatant. Yesterday he went ahead of me; to contend two days in succession is too much for him. But after myself, I do not know anybody who can equal him." . . .
"Use him up then, my lord . . . use him up, for the honor of old Germany," . . . said the traitorous major-domo.
"Well, Marquis," said the governor, in a loud voice, "is your song already finished? Shall we not drink to your glorious chase to-day?"
"Let's drink!" said the Marquis, holding out his tankard with an arm that seemed heavy. . . . Then, having drank, he repeated in a low and sad voice the last few lines of his song:
"'See the brown night
And the moonlight;
We will go back
Home without seeing
The huntsman in black.'"
"He is dull in his liquor," said the baron to his major-domo.