The old crack-faced clock, with one hand, that Miss Husted had put on the mantelpiece, struck the hour with its old cracked bell, and it startled him. He had heard it hundreds of times, but now its weird, metallic tone jarred on the harmony of his feelings. He counted the strokes; five, six, seven, eight. Eight o'clock! He started up, for his dream had come to an end, and he came back to earth again, back into the world of Houston Street, back to the Bowery, to Costello, to the Museum, to his nightly labour for his daily bread. Mechanically he changed his velvet jacket for his street dress, and hastily put on his cape coat and hat. "No, it's not a dream!" he told himself, as he read the card she had given him. "Miss Hélène Stanton, Fifth Avenue and Fifty-seventh Street." He put the card carefully in his pocket-book and placing his violin case under his arm started to go out. Then remembering that the lamp was still burning, he went back and carefully turned it out.
"Fifth Avenue, and Fifty-seventh Street," he said to himself; "to-morrow at three, to-morrow at three."
He went into the street and the noise and bustle of the Bowery jarred upon his sensitive ear. "To-morrow at three," he joyfully sang to himself. "To-morrow at three!" But high above the din and rattle of traffic and street noises, high above Von Barwig's song, rang out Costello's voice as if to drown his happiness.
"Eat 'em alive," it said. "Eat 'em alive; eat 'em alive!" Von Barwig heard it; shuddered, and sang no more. "Eat 'em alive," he muttered mournfully to himself. "Eat 'em alive—eat 'em alive."
Chapter Fifteen
Von Barwig arose at daybreak, for a great hope had come to him. At last life held out a promise; of what he knew not. He only knew that he experienced a sensation of joy, and his great, loving heart throbbed in response. His cheerfulness communicated itself to his friends upstairs, for they came into his room and insisted on his accompanying them to breakfast at Galazatti's. They were all in high spirits. Pinac and Fico were determined to let him see that the loss of their positions had not caused them any uneasiness.
"Bah! we get the engagement back again," laughed Fico.
Pinac snapped his fingers. "The café! Pouf, pouf, pouf!"
Poons grinned amiably. He had been warned by the others, notably by Pinac in very bad German, not to let Von Barwig see that they felt down in the mouth. He kept a smile on his face when he thought of it, and was exceedingly sorrowful when he didn't; so the expression on his face altered from time to time, much to Von Barwig's astonishment. Once, during breakfast, Pinac heard Poons sigh and kicked him under the table, whereupon he immediately grinned. Von Barwig saw this lightning change and wondered what was the matter.