`The poor baron bore it all as long as he could, and when he could bear it no longer lost his appetite and his spirits, and sat himself gloomily and dejectedly down. But there were worse troubles yet in store for him, and as they came on, his melancholy and sadness increased. Times changed.
He got into debt. The Grogzwig coffers ran low, though the Swillenhausen family had looked upon them as inexhaustible; and just when the baroness was on the point of making a thirteenth addition to the family pedigree, Von Koeldwethout discovered that he had no means of replenishing them.
`"I don't see what is to be done," said the baron. "I think I'll kill myself."`This was a bright idea. The baron took an old hunting-knife from a cupboard hard by, and having sharpened it on his boot, made what boys call "an offer" at his throat.
`"Hem!" said the baron, stopping short. "Perhaps it's not sharp enough."`The baron sharpened it again, and made another offer, when his hand was arrested by a loud screaming among the young barons and baronesses, who had a nursery in an upstairs tower with iron bars outside the window, to prevent their tumbling out into the moat.
`"If I had been a bachelor," said the baron sighing, "I might have done it fifty times over, without being interrupted. Hallo! Put a flask of wine and the largest pipe in the little vaulted room behind the hall."`One of the domestics, in a very kind manner, executed the baron's order in the course of half an hour or so, and Von Koeldwethout being apprised thereof, strode to the vaulted room, the walls of which, being of dark shining wood, gleamed in the light of the blazing logs which were piled upon the hearth. The bottle and pipe were ready, and, upon the whole, the place looked very comfortable.
`"Leave the lamp," said the baron.
`"Anything else, my lord?" inquired the domestic.
`"The room," replied the baron. The domestic obeyed, and the baron locked the door.
`"I'll smoke a last pipe," said the baron, "and then I'll be off." So, putting the knife upon the table till he wanted it, and tossing off a goodly measure of wine, the Lord of Grogzwig threw himself back in his chair, stretched his legs out before the fire, and puffed away.
`He thought about a great many things--about his present troubles and past days of bachelorship, and about the Lincoln greens, long since dispersed up and down the country, no one knew whither: with the exception of two who had been unfortunately beheaded, and four who had killed themselves with drinking. His mind was running upon bears and boars, when, in the process of draining his glass to the bottom, he raised his eyes, and saw, for the first time and with unbounded astonishment, that he was not alone.
`No, he was not; for, on the opposite side of the fire, there sat with folded arms a wrinkled hideous figure, with deeply sunk and bloodshot eyes, and an immensely long cadaverous face, shadowed by jagged and matted locks of coarse black hair. He wore a kind of tunic of a dull bluish colour, which, the baron observed, on regarding it attentively, was clasped or ornamented down the front with coffin handles. His legs, too, were encased in coffin plates as though in armour; and over his left shoulder he wore a short dusky cloak, which seemed made of a remnant of some pall. He took no notice of the baron, but was intently eyeing the fire.
`"Halloa!" said the baron, stamping his foot to attract attention.
`"Halloa!" replied the stranger, moving his eyes towards the baron, but not his face or himself "What now?"`"What now!" replied the baron, nothing daunted by his hollow voice and lustreless eyes. " I should ask that question. How did you get here?"`"Through the door," replied the figure.
`"What are you?" says the baron.
`"A man," replied the figure.
`"I don't believe it," says the baron.
`"Disbelieve it then," says the figure.
`"I will," rejoined the baron.
`The figure looked at the bold Baron of Grogzwig for some time, and then said familiarly, `"There's no coming over you, I see. I'm not a man!"`"What are you then?" asked the baron.
`"A genius," replied the figure.
`"You don't look much like one," returned the baron scornfully.
`"I am the Genius of Despair and Suicide," said the apparition. "Now you know me."`With these words the apparition turned towards the baron, as if composing himself for a talk--and, what was very remarkable, was, that he threw his cloak aside, and displaying a stake, which was run through the centre of his body, pulled it out with a jerk, and laid it on the table, as composedly as if it had been a walking-stick.
`"Now," said the figure, glancing at the hunting-knife, "are you ready for me?"`"Not quite," rejoined the baron; "I must finish this pipe first."`"Look sharp then," said the figure.
`"You seem in a hurry," said the baron.
`"Why, yes, I am," answered the figure; "they're doing a pretty brisk business in my way, over in England and France just now, and my time is a good deal taken up."`"Do you drink?" said the baron, touching the bottle with the bowl of his pipe.
`"Nine times out of ten, and then very hard," rejoined the figure, drily.
`"Never in moderation?" asked the baron.
