St. Pauli, taking away the breath of his Hamburg fellow-males by her temperamental charms, which he essayed to describe to his cousin. His tongue was a little thick, though that need not have troubled him, since his cousin’s strange complaisance seemed to cover this phenomenon like the other. But his weariness became at length so overpowering that the meeting broke up at about half past ten, and he was scarcely capable of attending when he was introduced to the oft-mentioned Dr. Krokowski, who sat reading a newspaper near the door of one of the salons. He responded little else than “Certainly, of course” to the doctor’s blithe and hearty greeting, and was relieved when his nephew left him, passing by the balcony from Joachim’s room to his own, after bidding him good night and saying he would fetch him for eight o’clock breakfast. He was glad to relapse into the deserter’s bed, with his regular good night cigarette⁠—with which he nearly caused a conflagration, by twice falling asleep with it alight between his lips.