Part 14 (2/2)

To-day was a lucky day for him, he felt sure; and this must be taken advantage of: a little game must be arranged for the evening.

Therefore, he had taken care only to invite men on whom he could rely to this second instalment of the farewell drinking party: the sergeant-major of the fifth battery, who imitated his chief in drinking, and Trumpeter Henke of his own, the sixth battery, two seasoned gamblers. The two other members of the party were to be the landlord of the White Horse, and the fat baker, Kuhn, who held the contract for the white bread supplied to the regiment. To the baker in particular he had allotted the _role_ of loser, as he had the most money.

At the gate it suddenly occurred to Heppner that it would be much pleasanter to walk the half-mile to the town in company, and he decided to fetch the trumpeter.

Sergeant Henke was a lively young fellow, with a fresh, rosy face, a flowing black beard and curly hair, rather beyond the regulation length. He was of a handsome soldierly appearance, and contrasted well with his wife, Lisbeth, a beautiful blonde, who with her slender figure always looked like a young girl.

This fair woman was blindly in love with her husband. She almost wors.h.i.+pped him, but he did not trouble himself much about her. He regarded himself as a great artist, because in the choir concerts he played the cornet solos, and always received much applause from the female part of the audience, and he considered that his marriage alone had prevented him from becoming a ”celebrity.” Once he had received a pa.s.sionate love letter, signed by ”a lady of high degree, who deplored with tears of blood” the dividing difference of rank between them. It was transparently the coa.r.s.e work of a practical joker; but Henke in his conceit believed in the high-born heiress, and this dream quite turned his head. He ever afterwards posed as a fine gentleman, ogled all the elegant women of the town, and had hardly a glance left for his wife. She worked and pinched for him in order that he might be able to enjoy his aristocratic tastes, and thought herself happy because he bore with her. And he was always urging her to work and earn money, as he longed to become rich and be the equal of really fas.h.i.+onable people.

Gambling was to help him to this; besides, in itself it gave him intense pleasure.

He was ready dressed to go out, and was only lingering before the looking-gla.s.s, when he heard outside the signal-whistle with which Heppner, his boon-companion, was accustomed to call him. He soon joined the deputy sergeant-major in the street, and after a brief greeting the two walked rapidly towards the town.

A few steps from the White Horse the trumpeter suddenly stopped, felt in his pocket, and exclaimed, ”d.a.m.nation! I've left my money behind at home!”

”Never mind!” said Heppner, in his genial mood. ”You shall eat and drink free to-day, and I'll lend you a thaler into the bargain. There, catch hold!”

He gave him the piece of money before they reached the door, and the trumpeter rejoiced: borrowed money brought luck.

The landlord of the Horse had laid the table neatly in the little parlour. The leavings of the previous evening had been freshly dished up, and the barrel, which must still contain nearly forty litres of beer, had been cooled with ice.

But only one of the five banqueters was in the vein--Blechschmidt, sergeant-major of the fifth battery. He was still eating and drinking when the four others were already sitting at the half-cleared table playing cards.

”Something moderate to begin with!” the master baker Kuhn had suggested; so each one put down three marks.

It was a long time before the last fifty-pfennig piece was played out of the pool; but Heppner triumphed. He had been right in his premonition; when he counted his money he had won nearly two marks.

After this exertion the players took a little refreshment, and while eating talked the game over.

Heppner swallowed his bread and meat eagerly, and the last plate had hardly been cleared before he began, his eyes twinkling craftily, ”And what next, gentlemen?”

The master baker laughed pleasantly and replied, ”Well, as we've been lying low, we may afford to let ourselves go a bit now.”

Thereupon the landlord bolted the door and saw that the shutters were firmly closed. They drew closer together, and even Blechschmidt came nearer.

The players bent over the table, their eyes followed the dealing of the cards with eagerness, their faces glowed. They lighted their fresh cigars on the stumps of the old ones, and when their throats became parched from excitement, they gulped down rapid draughts of the beer, which was gradually becoming flat and muddy as it flowed from the tap into the gla.s.ses.

They had lost all thought of time.

Suddenly Blechschmidt, the tireless toper, grumbled, ”No, I shan't play with you any more. Beer's best.”

The landlord looked at the clock. ”It is nearly five,” he said.

None of them could believe it; they thought they had not been playing above an hour at most.

But late or early they must finish the game, and they all heaved deep breaths as the last round ended. While playing they had been quite unconscious of the terrible fatigue, which, now that they had stopped, utterly overpowered them.

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