Beside him sat Adolf Hoym. He was a well-made man, but his expression was disagreeable and his small eyes had a timid look. Hoym was famous for his love adventures, but for several years he had kept them so secret that it was thought they no longer had an attraction for him. It was said that he had married, but no one had seen his wife. She was hidden away at his country house.
Hoym was already tipsy, that could easily be told by the strange movements of his head, and by the efforts he made to raise his arms by dropping his eyelids.
It was the best fun possible for the King and his companions to catch the Secretary of the Treasury in a state when his mind could no longer control his tongue.
"Hoym's turn now," said the King. "You, Hoym, can have no excuse. We all know that you are a connoisseur of female beauty, and that you cannot live without love; nothing ever goes beyond these walls. Come, now, confess!"
Hoym turned his head, and played with his glass.
"He! he! he!" he laughed.
Baron Kyan filled up his glass.
Hoym seized and emptied it with the stupid avidity of a drunken man consumed with a burning thirst.
His face grew crimson.
"He! he! he! You wish to know what my love looks like," he began. "But you must know that I have no need of a mistress, for I have a wife beautiful as a goddess!"