Otto's right,'' he growled. ``You can stay. Let us have our
game, Otto.''

Mrs. Brauner hurried to the kitchen to make ready for
four-o'clock coffee and cake. Hilda arranged the table for
pinochle, and when her father and Otto were seated, motioned her
lover to a seat beside her on the sofa.

``Heart's bride,'' he said in a low tone, ``I am prostrated by
what I have borne for your sake.''

``I love you,'' she said softly, her young eyes shining like
Titania's when she was garlanding her ass-headed lover. ``You
were right, my beloved. We shall win--father is giving in. He's
very good-natured, and now he's used to the idea of our love.''

Otto lost the game, and, with his customary patience, submitted
to the customary lecture on his stupidity as a player. Brauner
was once more in a good humor. Having agreed to tolerate Mr.
Feuerstein, he was already taking a less unfavorable view of him.
And Mr. Feuerstein laid himself out to win the owner of three
tenements. He talked German politics with him in High-German,
and applauded his accent and his opinions. He told stories of
the old German Emperor and Bismarck, and finally discovered that
Brauner was an ardent admirer of Schiller. He saw a chance to
make a double stroke--to please Brauner and to feed his own
vanity.

``With your permission, sir,'' he said, ``I will give a soliloquy
from Wallenstein.''