in
scenes bordering upon a debauch.

Among these highly colored cheeks, under which the wine seemed to
circulate with the blood, these eyes shining with a dull, fictitious
light, all this disorderly pantomime so contrary to the quiet habit
of the gesticulators, two faces contrasted strangely with the careless
mirth of the others. The Baron fulfilled his duties as master of the
house with a sort of nervous excitement which might pass for genuine
merriment in the eyes of those of his guests who were in no condition
to study his countenance; but a quiet observer would soon have discerned
that these violent efforts at good-humor and bantering concealed some
terrible suffering. From time to time, in the midst of a sentence or a
laugh, he would suddenly stop, the muscles of his face would twitch as
if the spring which set them in motion had broken; his expression became
sombre and savage; he sank back in his chair motionless, a stranger to
all that surrounded him, and gave himself up to some mysterious thought
against which resistance seemed powerless. Suddenly he appeared to
wake from some perplexing dream, and by another powerful effort aroused
himself and joined in the conversation with sharp, cutting speeches; he
encouraged the noisy humor of his guests, inciting them to drunkenness
by setting the example himself; then the same mysterious thought would
cross his face anew, and he would fall back into the tortures of a
revery which must have been horrible, to judge by the expression of his
face.

Among his guests, one only, who was seated almost opposite Bergenheim,
seemed to be in the secret of his thoughts and to study the symptoms
with deep attention. Gerfaut, for it was he, showed an interest in this
examination which reacted on his own countenance, for he was paler than
ever.

"When I saw that the hare was reaching the upper road," said one of the
guests, a handsome old man about sixty years of age, with gray hair and
rosy cheeks, "I ran toward the new clearing to wait for its return. I
felt perfectly sure, notary, that he would pass through your hands safe
and sound."

"Now, notary," said Marillac, from the other end of the table, "defend
yourself; one, two, three, ready!"

"Monsieur de Camier," replied the hunter whose skill had been
questioned, "I do not pretend to have your skill. I never have shot as
large game as you did at your last hunt."

This reply was an allusion to a little misadventure which had h