flourish and shake of the leg. In his own way he was an athlete--and
was superbly built! His hands, too, were so white and handsome, and he
wiped them on such a sumptuous, gold-striped, Indian bandana!

The moment of dinner arrived, and the whole party seated themselves at
the table.




XVI


Who does not know what a German dinner is like? Watery soup with
knobby dumplings and pieces of cinnamon, boiled beef dry as cork,
with white fat attached, slimy potatoes, soft beetroot and mashed
horseradish, a bluish eel with French capers and vinegar, a roast
joint with jam, and the inevitable '_Mehlspeise_,' something of the
nature of a pudding with sourish red sauce; but to make up, the beer
and wine first-rate! With just such a dinner the tavernkeeper at
Soden regaled his customers. The dinner, itself, however, went off
satisfactorily. No special liveliness was perceptible, certainly;
not even when Herr Klueber proposed the toast 'What we like!' (Was
wir lieben!) But at least everything was decorous and seemly. After
dinner, coffee was served, thin, reddish, typically German coffee.
Herr Klueber, with true gallantry, asked Gemma's permission to smoke a
cigar.... But at this point suddenly something occurred, unexpected,
and decidedly unpleasant, and even unseemly!

At one of the tables near were sitting several officers of the