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the fortune hunter-第7部分
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e latest style。 The results were even more regardless of taste than of expensecarpets that fought with curtains; pictures that quarreled with their frames and with the walls; upholstery so bellicose that it seemed perilous to sit upon。
But Feuerstein was as impressed as the Gansers had been the first time they beheld the gorgeousness of their palace。 He looked about with a proprietary sense ‘‘I'll marry this little idiot;'' he said to himself。 ‘‘Maybe my nest won't be downy; and maybe I won't lie at my ease in it!''
He met Mrs。 Ganser and had the opportunity to see just what Lena would look and be twenty years thence。 Mrs。 Ganser moved with great reluctance and difficulty。 She did not speak unless forced and then her voice seemed to have felt its way up feebly through a long and painfully narrow passage; emerging thin; low and fainting。 When she sator; rather; AS she sat; for she was always sittingher mountain of soft flesh seemed to be slowly collapsing upon and around the chair like a lump of dough on a mold。 Her only interest in life was disclosed when she was settled and settling at the luncheon table。 She used her knife more than her fork and her fingers more than either。 Feuerstein left soon after luncheon; lingering only long enough to give Lena a theatrical embrace。 ‘‘Well; I'll not spend much time with those women; once I'm married;'' he reflected as he went down the steps; and he thought of Hilda and sighed。
The next day but one he met Lena in the edge of the park and; after gloomy silence; shot with strange piercing looks that made her feel as if she were the heroine of a book; he burst forth with a demand for immediate marriage。
‘‘Forty…eight hours of torment!'' he cried。 ‘‘I shall not leave you again until you are securely mine。''
He proceeded to drop vague; adroit hints of the perils that beset a fascinating actor's life; of the women that had come and gone in his life。 And Lena; all a…tremble with jealous anxiety; was in the parlor of a Lutheran parsonage; with the minister reading out of the black book; before she was quite aware that she and her cyclonic adorer were not still promenading near the green…house in the park。 ‘‘Now;'' said Feuerstein briskly; as they were once more in the open air; ‘‘we'll go to your father。''
‘‘Goodness gracious; no;'' protested Lena。 ‘‘You don't know himhe'll be crazy just crazy! We must wait till he finds out about youthen he'll be very proud。 He wanted a son…in…law of high social standinga gentleman。''
‘‘We will go home; I tell you;'' replied Feuerstein firmlyhis tone was now the tone of the master。 All the sentiment was out of it and all the hardness in it。
Lena felt the change without understanding it。 ‘‘I bet you; pa'll make you wish you'd taken my advice;'' she said sullenly。
But Feuerstein led her home。 They went up stairs where Mrs。 Ganser was seated; looking stupidly at a new bonnet as she turned it slowly round on one of her cushion…like hands。 Feuerstein went to her and kissed her on the hang of her cheek。 ‘‘Mother!'' he said in a deep; moving voice。
Mrs。 Ganser blinked and looked helplessly at Lena。
‘‘I'm married; ma;'' explained Lena。
‘‘It's Mr。 Feuerstein。'' And she gave her silly laugh。
Mrs。 Ganser grew slowly pale。 ‘‘Your father;'' she at last succeeded in articulating。 ‘‘Ach!'' She lifted her arm; thick as a piano leg; and resumed the study of her new bonnet。
‘‘Won't you welcome me; mother?'' asked Feuerstein; his tone and attitude dignified appeal。
Mrs。 Ganser shook her huge head vaguely。 ‘‘See Peter;'' was all she said。
They went down stairs and waited; Lena silent; Feuerstein pacing the room and rehearsing; now aloud; now to himself; the scene he would enact with his father…in…law。 Peter was in a frightful humor that evening。 His only boy; who spent his mornings in sleep; his afternoons in speeding horses and his evenings in carousal; had come down upon him for ten thousand dollars to settle a gambling debt。 Peter was willing that his son should be a gentleman and should conduct himself like one。 But he had worked too hard for his money not to wince as a plain man at what he endured and even courted as a seeker after position for the house of Ganser。 He had hoped to be free to vent his ill…humor at home。 He was therefore irritated by the discovery that an outsider was there to check him。 As he came in he gave Feuerstein a look which said plainly:
‘‘And who are you; and how long are you going to intrude yourself?''
But Feuerstein; absorbed in the role he had so carefully thought out; did not note his unconscious father…in…law's face。 He extended both his hands and advanced grandly upon fat; round Peter。 ‘‘My father!'' he exclaimed in his classic German。 ‘‘Forgive my unseemly haste in plucking without your permission the beautiful flower I found within reach。''
Peter stepped back and gave a hoarse grunt of astonishment。 His red face became redder as he glared; first at Feuerstein; then at Lena。 ‘‘What lunatic is this you've got here; daughter?'' he demanded。
‘‘My father!'' repeated Feuerstein; drawing Lena to him。
Ganser's mouth opened and shut slowly several times and his whiskers bristled。 ‘‘Is this fellow telling the truth?'' he asked Lena in a tone that made her shiver and shrink away from her husband。
She began to cry。 ‘‘He made me do it; pa;'' she whined。 ‘‘II''
‘‘Go to your mother;'' shouted Ganser; pointing his pudgy finger tremulously toward the door。 ‘‘Move!''
Lena; drying her eyes with her sleeve; fled。 Feuerstein became a sickly white。 When she had disappeared; Ganser looked at him with cruel little eyes that sparkled。 Feuerstein quailed。 It was full half a minute before Ganser spoke。 Then he went up to Feuerstein; stood on tiptoe and; waving his arms frantically above his head; yelled into his face ‘‘Rindsvieh!'' as contemptuous an insult as one German can fling at another。
‘‘She is my lawful wife;'' said Feuerstein with an attempt at his pose。
‘‘Get the house ausquick!aus! gleich!Lump!I call the police!''
‘‘I demand my wife!'' exclaimed Feuerstein。
Ganser ran to the front door and opened it。 ‘‘Out!'' he shrieked。 ‘‘If you don't; I have you taken in when the police come the block down。 This is my house! Rindsvieh!''
Feuerstein caught up his soft hat from the hall table and hurried out。 As he passed; Ganser tried to kick him but failed ludicrously because his short; thick leg would not reach。 At the bottom of the steps Feuerstein turned and waved his fists wildly。 Ganser waved his fists at Feuerstein and; shaking his head so violently that his hanging cheeks flapped back and forth; bellowed:
‘‘Rindsvieh! Dreck!''
Then he rushed in and slammed the door。
V
A SENSITIVE SOUL SEEKS SALVE
As Mr。 Feuerstein left Hilda on the previous Sunday night he promised to meet her in Tompkins Square the next eveningat the band concert。 She walked up and down with Sophie; her spirits gradually sinking after half…past eight and a feeling of impending misfortune settling in close。 She was not conscious of the music; though the second part of the program contained the selections from Wagner which she loved best。 She feverishly searched the crowd and the half…darkness beyond。 She imagined that every approaching tall man was her lover。 With the frankness to which she had been bred she made no concealment of her heart…sick anxiety。
‘‘He may have to be at the theater;'' said Sophie; herself extremely uneasy。 Partly through shrewdness; partly through her natural suspicion of strangers; she felt that Mr。 Feuerstein; upon whom she was building; was not a rock。
‘‘No;'' replied Hilda。 ‘‘He told me he wouldn't be at the theater; but would surely come here。'' The fact that her lover had said so settled it to her mind。
They did not leave the Square until ten o'clock; when it was almost deserted and most of its throngs of an hour before were in bed sleeping soundly in the content that comes from a life of labor。 And when she did get to bed she lay awake for nearly an hour; tired though she was。 Without doubt some misfortune had befallen him‘‘He's been hurt or is ill;'' she decided。 The next morning she stood in the door of the shop watching for the postman on his first round; as he turned the corner of Second Street; she could not restrain herself; but ran to meet him。
‘‘Any letter for me?'' she inquired in a voice that compelled him to feel personal guilt in having to say ‘‘No。''
It was a day of mistakes in weights and in making up packages; a day of vain searching for some comforting explanation of Mr。 Feuerstein's failure and silence。 After supper Sophie came and they went to the Square; keeping to the center of it where the lights were brightest and the people fewest。
‘‘I'm sure something's happened;'' said Sophie。 ‘‘Maybe Otto has told him a story or has''
‘‘Nonot Otto。'' Hilda dismissed the suggestion as impossible。 She had known Otto too long and too well to entertain for an instant the idea that he could be underhanded。 ‘‘There's only one reason he's sick; very sicktoo sick to send word。''
‘‘Let's go and see;'' said Sophie; as if she had not planned it hours before。
Hilda hesitated。 ‘‘It might look as if I'' She did not finish。
‘‘But you needn't show yourself;'' replied Sophie。 ‘‘You can wait down the street and I'll go up to the door and won't give my name。''
Hilda clasped her arm more tightly about Sophie's waist and they set out。 They walked more and more swiftly until toward the last they were almost running。 At the corner of Fifteenth Street and First Avenue Hilda stopped。 ‘‘I'll go through to Stuyvesant Square;'' she said; ‘‘and wait there on a bench near the Sixteenth Street entrance。 You'll be quick; won't you?''
Sophie went to Mr。 Feuerstein's number and rang。 After a long wait a slovenly girl in a stained red wrapper; her hair in curl…papers and one stocking down about her high…heeled slipper; opened the door and said: ‘‘What do you want? I sent the maid for a pitcher of beer。''
‘‘I want to ask about Mr。 Feuerstein;'' replied Sophie。
The girl's pert; prematurely…wrinkled face took on a quizzical smile。 ‘‘Oh!'' she said。 ‘‘You can go up to his room。 Thi
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