of wine.  But here, unluckily, another infirmity which my knight had in common with obstinate men developed itself.  For as, on the whole, he could not get rid of that fixed notion; so did he stick fast to a disagreeable impression of the moment, and suffer his feelings to run on without moderation.  His last vexation about himself had not yet died away; and now was added something new, although of quite a different kind.  He had not long cast his eyes here and there before he noticed on the table a double portion of coffee, and two cups, and might besides, being a man of gallantry, have traced some other indication that the young man had not been so solitary all the time.  And scarcely had the conjecture arisen in his mind, and ripened into a probability, that the pretty girl had been paying a visit here, than the most outrageous jealousy added itself to that first vexation, so as completely to perplex him.

Now, before I could suspect any thing,—­for I had hitherto been conversing quite harmlessly with the young man,—­the captain, in an unpleasant tone, which I well knew, began to be satirical about the pair of cups, and about this and that.  The young man, surprised, tried to turn it off pleasantly and sensibly, as is the custom among men of good breeding:  but the old fellow continued to be unmercifully rude; so that there was nothing left for the other to do but to seize his hat and cane, and at his departure to leave behind him a pretty unequivocal challenge.  The fury of the captain now burst out the more vehemently, as he had in the interim drunk another bottle of wine almost by himself.  He struck the table with his fist, and cried more than once, “I will strike him dead!” It was not, however, meant quite so badly as it sounded; for he often used this phrase when any one opposed or otherwise displeased him.  Just as unexpectedly the business grew worse on our return; for I had the want of foresight to represent to him his ingratitude towards the young man, and to remind him how strongly he had praised to me the ready obligingness of this official person.  No! such rage of a man against himself I never saw again:  it was the most passionate conclusion to that beginning to which the pretty girl had given occasion.  Here I saw sorrow and repentance carried into caricature, and, as all passion supplies the place of genius, to a point really genius-like.  He then went over all the incidents of our afternoon ramble again, employed them rhetorically for his own self-reproach, brought up the old witch at last before him once more, and perplexed himself to such a degree, that I could not help fearing he would throw himself into the Rhine.  Could I have been sure of fishing him out again quickly, like Mentor his Telemachus, he might have made the leap; and I should have brought him home cooled down for this occasion.