“I shall be delighted,” said Von Richter. “I have no engagement of any importance.”
The lady in the stalls was evidently the sort of lady who could be dismissed without trouble.
“Good,” I said, “we leave directly this play is over; but you may want to see the rest of the performance. The dancing is good I am told. Join us at the Carlton as soon as you’re tired of this entertainment.”
Von Richter slipped away. The curtain went up almost immediately.
Gorman came in to receive our congratulations as soon as his play was over. I asked him to join our supper party but he had an engagement of his own, a supper at the Savoy. I do not blame him. The lady who acted the principle part in his play had been very charming. She deserved any supper that Gorman could give her.
We reached the Carlton very early, long before the rush of supper parties began. Von Richter joined us as we sat down at the table. He was an intelligent, agreeable young man with plenty of tact. He listened and was apparently interested while Mrs. Ascher poured out her hopes and fears for Ireland’s future. When she came, as she did in the end, to her own plan of buying guns for the Nationalist Volunteers Von Richter became almost enthusiastic.
“You Americans,” he said. “You are always on the side of the oppressed. Alone among the nations of the earth you have a pat for the head of the bottom dog.”
Von Richter’s English is not only correct, it is highly idiomatic. Mrs. Ascher bridled with pleasure. It pleased her to think that she was patting the bottom dog’s head. I did not remind her that in the group which she had just modelled the Spirit of Irish Poetry, for whose benefit she intended to buy guns, had got its foot firmly planted on the pig. That animal—and I still believed it to represent Belfast—was the one which a tender-hearted American ought to have patted.
“Perhaps I may be able to assist you,” said Von Richter, “I know something of rifles. That is my trade, you know. If I can be of any help—there is a firm in Hamburg——”
He was glancing at Ascher as he spoke. He wondered, I suppose, how far Ascher was committed to the scheme of arming Gorman’s constituents. But Ascher did not appear to be listening to him. He had allowed me to pour out some champagne for him and sat fingering the stem of his glass without drinking.