a friend in Berlin, to whom he proposed writing for money.

'Yes, do stay,' urged Frau Lenore too. 'We will introduce you to Mr.
Karl Klueber, who is engaged to Gemma. He could not come to-day, as he
was very busy at his shop ... you must have seen the biggest draper's
and silk mercer's shop in the _Zeile_. Well, he is the manager there.
But he will be delighted to call on you himself.'

Sanin--heaven knows why--was slightly disconcerted by this piece of
information. 'He's a lucky fellow, that fiance!' flashed across his
mind. He looked at Gemma, and fancied he detected an ironical look in
her eyes. He began saying good-bye.

'Till to-morrow? Till to-morrow, isn't it?' queried Frau Lenore.

'Till to-morrow!' Gemma declared in a tone not of interrogation, but
of affirmation, as though it could not be otherwise.

'Till to-morrow!' echoed Sanin.

Emil, Pantaleone, and the poodle Tartaglia accompanied him to the
corner of the street. Pantaleone could not refrain from expressing his
displeasure at Gemma's reading.

'She ought to be ashamed! She mouths and whines, _una caricatura_!
She ought to represent Merope or Clytemnaestra--something grand,
tragic--and she apes some wretched German woman! I can do that ...
_merz, kerz, smerz_,' he went on in a hoarse voice poking his face
forward, and brandishing his fingers. Tartaglia began barking at him,
while Emil burst out laughing. The old man turned sharply back.