After this exertion the players took a little refreshment, and while eating talked the game over.
Heppner swallowed his bread and meat eagerly, and the last plate had hardly been cleared before he began, his eyes twinkling craftily, "And what next, gentlemen?"
The master baker laughed pleasantly and replied, "Well, as we've been lying low, we may afford to let ourselves go a bit now."
Thereupon the landlord bolted the door and saw that the shutters were firmly closed. They drew closer together, and even Blechschmidt came nearer.
The players bent over the table, their eyes followed the dealing of the cards with eagerness, their faces glowed. They lighted their fresh cigars on the stumps of the old ones, and when their throats became parched from excitement, they gulped down rapid draughts of the beer, which was gradually becoming flat and muddy as it flowed from the tap into the glasses.
They had lost all thought of time.
Suddenly Blechschmidt, the tireless toper, grumbled, "No, I shan't play with you any more. Beer's best."
The landlord looked at the clock. "It is nearly five," he said.
None of them could believe it; they thought they had not been playing above an hour at most.
But late or early they must finish the game, and they all heaved deep breaths as the last round ended. While playing they had been quite unconscious of the terrible fatigue, which, now that they had stopped, utterly overpowered them.