And the devil laughed, as the wine he quaffed,
And called the king his “pard.”
V.
From nine to twelve, not long in song,
Was enough for the devil’s game;
And the king was lost, as the cards he tossed
In the face of the imp to blame.
The applause that awarded the singer’s effort was neither loud nor enthusiastic. This open commission of the crime of lese majesté in a public inn sent a thrill of astonishment through the crowd, and with one impulse the poker players threw down their cards and arose from the table.
“White livers!” cried the voice of the singer. “Are you afraid of shadows?” Carl, the famous baritone, stepped forward into the centre of the room. He was not only the best singer and the most accomplished musician, but also the handsomest man in Hesse-Heilfels. “Gamblers, wine-bibbers, cowards! I blush for my country when I look at you!”
Carl Eingen was the only man in Hesse-Heilfels who would have dared to utter such words to these men, flushed as they were with wine. But his influence over them was strong, and they gazed upon his clear-cut, impassioned face with affection and admiration. He looked every inch a leader as he stood there bareheaded, his dark, curly hair adding to the beauty of his well-shaped head and pale, strong countenance.