He saunters toward the boundary of the wood and stares into its obscurity, already beginning to be animated by pale lunar reflections; then he proceeds for some distance beneath the trees, deeply inhaling the soft, aromatic fragrance of the pines. He is determined that by main force he will master this mysterious intoxication which seems to fever his whole being; but the further he betakes himself away from the festival ground the more does his unrest increase. Just as he is about to enter the dancing-room he sees Franz Maas hurrying towards him in breathless excitement. A vague presentiment of disaster dawns within him.
"What has happened?" he calls out to him.
"It's a good thing I've found you. Your sister-in-law has been taken ill."
"For heaven's sake! Where have you taken her?"
"Martin led her to your tent."
"How did it happen? How did it happen?"
"Some time before, I noticed that she had become pale and quiet, and when I asked her what was the matter, she said her foot hurt her. But in spite of that she would not sit still, and, while I was dancing with her, she suddenly broke down in the middle of the room."
"And then? What then?"
"I raised her up and drew her as quickly as possible to her chair, while I sent some one off to fetch Martin."
"Why didn't you send for me, man?"