The two men lit their cigars, each bearing the well-known narrow band of a famous importing firm, and next they refilled their glasses. They had another hour until the time for the evening stable service should come, and there was nothing to do meanwhile, for First Lieutenant Specht, temporarily in command of the reserve squadron, never appeared during the afternoon service. Hence, there would be no disturbance.
“Will you be off on leave at Christmas?” asked Roth of his friend.
“Don’t know yet,” Schmitz replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I should like to, for I haven’t been outside this dirty hole of a town for two years; but it is hardly worth my while to undertake such a long trip for the few days, for I don’t suppose I should get more than a week off, and it takes me forty-eight hours to reach my home—it’s at the other end of the world, you know—and that much to return. So I should have but a couple of days to myself, after all my trouble and expense.”
“What is the fare?” asked Roth.
“About thirty marks, and I haven’t that much to spare.”
Roth laughed disdainfully.
“Such a trifle only! Ho ho ho!”
“Well, you can laugh, of course,” retorted Schmitz, good-naturedly. “It wouldn’t mean anything to you. But suppose you haven’t got that much money, what then?”
“I’ll lend you that trifle,” said the “Vice,” pompously.