Reinhard dropped the glass out of his hand and seized his cap.

"Well, what are you going to do now?" asked the girl.

"I'll be back in a minute."

She frowned. "Stay," she said gently, casting an amorous glance at
him.

Reinhard hesitated. "I can't," he said.

She laughingly gave him a tap with the toe of her shoe and said: "Go
away, then, you good-for-nothing; you are one as bad as the other, all
good-for-nothings." And as she turned away from him, Reinhard went
slowly up the steps of the Ratskeller.

Outside in the street deep twilight had set in; he felt the cool
winter air blowing on his heated brow. From some window every here and
there fell the bright gleam of a Christmas tree all lighted up, now
and then was heard from within some room the sound of little pipes and
tin trumpets mingled with the merry din of children's voices.

Crowds of beggar children were going from house to house or climbing
up on to the railings of the front steps, trying to catch a glimpse
through the window of a splendour that was denied to them. Sometimes
too a door would suddenly be flung open, and scolding voices would
drive a whole swarm of these little visitors away out into the dark
street. In the vestibule of yet another house they were singing an old
Christmas carol, and little girls' clear voices were heard among the