"Oh, we have a sofa," the postmaster declared.
At this joyful intelligence every cloud disappeared from Aunt Minni's face. If she could have a good sofa, where she could doze away most of the day, and if the cooking was good, she was abundantly content.
"There is another thing that can be done," Bertram remarked. "The host might ask the three gentlemen to give up one of their rooms. Men do not need a special sitting-room in an inn; they can make use of the inn parlour in the daytime. If the host insists, they will consent to vacate one room, and if they do not, they must be forced to do so!"
Eva cast a look of great disapprobation upon the speaker. "We are not so selfish as to wish to interfere with the rights of others," she said. "We shall certainly confine ourselves to our three rooms."
"I don't think Herr Delmar would give up the room," the postmaster remarked.
The name of Delmar produced an electric effect upon Eva and Bertram. Guido's face suddenly became leaden in hue, and across Eva's there flitted a crimson flush, but she quickly recovered herself. "Is one of the gentlemen who have taken the other rooms called Delmar?" she asked the postmaster.
"Yes, one of them."
"Is he a northern German?"
"I think so."
"A young man about thirty years old, with dark eyes, black hair and beard, and an olive complexion?"