of the palaces glared, the fountains glistened, and the coloring tree
tops scintillated like the head-dress of an Indian prince. Hans was
short but strongly built; a mild blue-eyed German, smooth-faced,
ruddy-cheeked, white-haired, with a brown button of a nose. He drank his
beer with the best of them, but it never got so far as his nose save
from the outside. His suit was tight-fitting, but the checks were
ample, and the watch-chain a little too heavy, and the huge garnet on
his third finger was not in good taste. But what's the odds? Grumbach
was satisfied, and it's one's own satisfaction that counts most.

Presently two police officers came along and went into the hotel.
Grumbach turned with a sigh and followed them. Doubtless they had come
to look over his passports. And this happened to be the case.

The senior officer unfolded the precious document.

"It is not yet viséed by your consul," said the officer.

"I arrived late last night. I shall see him this morning," replied
Grumbach.

"You were not born in America?"

"Oh, no; I came from Bavaria."

"At what age?"

"I was twenty."

"Did you go to America with your parents?"