I had taken in these various proceedings mechanically, without bestowing upon them any special attention. But now an idea, prompted by them, began to fructify. By and by I approached the counter and ventured a timid, “I beg your pardon.”
The proprietor glanced up.
“I beg your pardon,” I continued in German, “but you have discharged a waiter!”
“Well?” he responded.
“Well, you will probably need somebody to take his place?”
“Well? What of it?”
“I—I—that is, if you think I would do, I should like the employment.”
The proprietor looked thoughtful. He scratched his chin, puffed vigorously at his cigar, and asked my name. He shook his head when I confessed that I had had no experience of the business; but seemed impressed by my remark that on that account I would be willing to serve for smaller wages. He mentioned a stipend. It was ridiculously slender; but what cared I? It would keep body and soul together. I desired nothing more.
“What references can you give?” he inquired.
I mentioned Epstein.