"Now the thing is fairly under way," said young Breesen, and rubbed his hands with delight.
"Cloten, pay forfeit," said Oldenburg once more, and sang through his teeth:
"Pine cones--ace of hearts--
Why, my love, why, it smarts?
Is it hatred--is it love?"
Cloten aimed carefully, but whether the new aim disturbed him, or his hand had become nervous, his ball only grazed the upper edge of the card. Oswald stepped forward, his eye took in the whole number of noblemen who surrounded him. "Take it for granted that the ace of spades is the heart of some nobleman or other," he heard a well-known voice whisper.... He fired, and in the place of the ace there was a hole a little smaller than his ball.
"Console yourself, Cloten," said Oldenburg. "'Non semper arcum tendit Apollo'--that means: failures must come."
"Really superb," said Baron Barnewitz, showing the card to the company; "the ace cut out clean."
"Do you wish your revenge, Baron Cloten?" asked Oswald.
"No, thank you, some other time. Feel my hand is not quite steady to-day."
"Why did you not pay forfeit, Cloten?" laughed Oldenburg, pocketing the money he had won.
"Here they are! here they are!" said suddenly a dozen girls' voices, and from behind the shrubbery which separated the shooting-gallery from the path there appeared Emily von Breesen, her cousin Lisbeth von Meyen, and one of the three Misses Nadelitz, like so many white butterflies.