Christian accordingly set to work at his drama, and M. Goefle at his parcel of papers, each at the end of a long table, to the middle of which they had pushed the breakfast dishes. Ulphilas now entered, and silently began to rearrange the table. He was in his usual state of half-conscious drunkenness, and shortly he entered upon a long discussion with M. Goefle, which Christian neither understood nor heard, as to the merits of a certain soup of milk, beer and syrup, a national dish, which M. Goefle wanted for supper, and which Ulphilas claimed to prepare as skilfully as any man in Sweden. By the promise of this delicacy he disarmed the anger of the lawyer, who had scolded him for getting his little valet tipsy. Ulphilas, besides, swore he did not know what M. Goefle meant, and perhaps in good faith, considering the steady coolness with which he himself carried all kinds of liquors.
By six o’clock, Christian had completed his task, while M. Goefle, who seemed restless and agitated, was still at work. As Christian happened to look towards him, he noticed the fixed and abstracted expression of his eyes. Supposing that this might be the lawyer’s usual appearance while at his work, he abstained for a time from interrupting him, but finally thought it necessary to ask, which he did a little uneasily, if he would not read the outline of the piece.
“Yes, certainly,” said M. Goefle; “but why not read it over to me?”
“Impossible, M. Goefle. I must select my actors, arrange their costumes in some sort of harmony, collect my scenes, load my ass, and hurry over to the new chateau, so as to take possession of the quarters intended for us, set up the theatre, arrange the lights, etc. I have not a moment to lose; we must begin at eight o’clock.”
“Eight o’clock? The devil! What a detestable hour! They don’t have supper at the chateau until ten o’clock, and pray when shall we have our supper?”
“Oh, to be sure! The fifth meal of the day!” cried Christian, in despair, but rapidly continuing his preparations. “For heaven’s sake, M. Goefle, have your supper now, and be ready an hour from this time! You can read over the piece while you are eating.”
“Oh, of course! A fine regimen you propose! To eat without an appetite, and to read in the meanwhile, so as to make it impossible for me to digest my food.”
“Very well; then let us think no more about it! I’ll try to get along by myself. I’ll do my best! Pshaw! Some good angel or other will come to my rescue.”
“No, no!” cried M. Goefle; “by no means! I’ll be the good angel. I promised you; and I’m a man of my word.”
“No, M. Goefle; I thank you, however, all the same. You are not used to the business. It will not suit a reasonable man like you to interrupt your important business to put a fool’s cap on your head! It was indiscreet in me to think of such a thing.”