“Oh, bother!” replied Borgert, roughly. “Come back to-morrow night; I have no small change about me, and I haven’t any time to spare.”
“But I hope you will keep faith with me this time, Herr First Lieutenant; you have promised so often to pay me.”
With that she diffidently opened the door and left, but Borgert undid one of the windows and let the pure autumn air stream in. The odor of these poverty-stricken wretches was insupportable to him. Disgusting! He took from a carved cabinet on the wall a large perfume bottle, and sprinkled a good portion of its contents upon the costly rugs and the upholstery of his furniture. Then he rang the bell for his servant.
The man stepped in briskly. It was Private Röse, whom the captain no longer wanted in the front, since he had proven unreliable, and with his deficient conceptions of military discipline would only be an injury to the squadron.
“What did I order you to do, you swine?” the officer shouted.
“I was to let nobody in without being announced,” answered Röse with diffidence; “but the woman passed me by, and I could not hinder her from going in.”
“Then throw the carrion out, thou sloppy beast! The first time somebody is let in again without my consent, I’ll cowhide you within an inch of your life!”
In saying which, he struck Röse with both fists in the face, then thrust open the door and kicked him out.
“If the hag should come back to-morrow night, you tell her I’ve just gone out!” he called after him.
Borgert had just seated himself, with a newspaper, by the window when the floor bell once more sounded. It was a short, energetic tinkle. The servant came in and announced, with a face still wet with tears: