Loppen had to look across at him every minute; he had such a wonderful face; but the most wonderful of all was, that he had a new one every time she looked over at him. And when he noted her surprise, he set to making grimaces, and at last made so hideous a face that Loppen gave a little scream and started up.
But then he laughed silently, without a sound, and showed his yellow teeth. Then a whispered conversation began between him and Puppelena; different things which Loppen could not see went from hand to hand under the table. The tinker and the other young fellow were drawn into this private conversation. But every time the music made a halt, Puppelena shouted to them encouragingly and the artists recovered themselves in a hurry and played on.
But in the midst of an excellent allegro spirituoso, when Olkonomen’s flute wandered off in trills and runs, so it was a pleasure to listen, there was a knock at the door.
The man of the many faces vanished in a trice under Puppelena’s chair; and Elsie saw with astonishment that her cavalier and the tinker had all at once turned to playing cards—with cards which must have fallen down from the roof. Yes, they were already in a hot dispute about a jack of clubs.
“But Jorgen—how you drum!” cried Schirrmeister, offended; for, after drinking, Jorgen Tambur became more fiery; he remembered the proud time when he drummed for the people’s assembly or beat the alarm in the streets when there was a fire.
“Hush!” commanded Puppelena when there was a second knock. The trio became silent.
“Who knocks?” asks the hostess in an insolent tone.
A voice answered from without.
“Open it,” said Puppelena, reassured. “It is only Miss Falbe.”
The tinker drew the bolt, turned the key and opened the door.