Within was a jumble of wooden luges, steel-framed toboggans, and granite curling stones; from the low ceiling hung numberless pairs of skis, like stalactites from a cavern roof; while bunches of skates adorned the balusters of the deep staircase leading to the upper floor.
Frau Krabb, the proprietress, was being accosted by another customer. The customer in question was a young officer in the shiny shako and a fine fur-trimmed sur-coat of grey-blue, frogged with black. He was a sufficiently attractive object in his picturesque uniform, but though his carriage was energetic and manly, the face that showed beneath the military headgear was by no means that of a typical soldier. It was a dark, oval face with a wisp of a black moustache, big lustrous eyes, and a small, pretty mouth, adorned with the whitest and most regular of teeth. It was a proud, sensitive face, more remarkable for its beauty than its strength, but for all that, good to behold for its intelligence, refinement, and glow of youthful health.
"Good-evening, Frau Krabb," began the soldier, genially saluting. "Are my skates ready yet?"
"They were ready at four o'clock, as promised, Herr Captain," replied the woman, a plump person with more fat than features.
The Captain passed his finger critically along the edge of the newly-ground blades, and expressed himself satisfied.
"And you will win the King's Cup, Herr Captain, of course?" continued Frau Krabb, smiling a fat smile into her customer's face.
"I'm going to have a good try at it," was the guarded reply. "I'd sooner win the King's Cup than the Colonelcy of the Guides. No one has practised his 'rocking turns' and 'counters' so assiduously as I, and I'm feeling as fit as a fiddle—which counts for more than a little in a skating competition."
"You look it," said the woman admiringly.
"I've got to meet Franz Schmolder of Wurzdorf," went on the soldier musingly, "and Captain Einstein of the 14th, so it does not do to be too confident. There's an American, too, competing; but I don't fear him. He doubtless skates only in the English fashion, and their style of skating is too stiff and stilted to be of any use in elaborate figures, though it is pretty enough for big, simple movements and combined skating. Schmolder's the man I fear, though Einstein's a big and powerful skater, with the nerve of a demon."
"Herr Schmolder has a strained knee," said the woman, "and Captain Einstein's nerve is not so good as it was. He is too fond of Rhine wine and Kirschwasser, and though he has a big frame it is not full of the best stuffing."