“But why are you not supping with them?”
“Because it did not suit me. You see there are four. Five is a foolish number for a supper party.”
“Will you sup with me, Lotta?” She did not answer him at once. “Lotta,” he said, “if you sup with me now you must sup with me always. How shall it be?”
“Always? No. I am very hungry now, but I do not want supper always. I cannot sup with you always, Herr Crippel.”
“But you will to-night?”
“Yes, to-night.”
“Then it shall be always.”
And the musician marched up to a table, and threw his hat down, and ordered such a supper that Lotta Schmidt was frightened. And when presently Carl Stobel and Marie Weber came up to their table,—for Fritz Planken did not come near them again that evening,—Herr Crippel bowed courteously to the diamond-cutter, and asked him when he was to be married. “Marie says it shall be next Sunday,” said Carl.
“And I will be married the Sunday afterwards,” said Herr Crippel. “Yes; and there is my wife.”
And he pointed across the table with both his hands to Lotta Schmidt