Herr Trübner, the German, met him with a great show of politeness, and did the honours of the dinner with much effusion.
"You know the patroness of this establishment?" he said presently.
"Yes, I know her," replied Briarfield, rather ungraciously.
"I have hoped to see her," said Herr Trübner, "but up to now I have been unsuccessful. And yet I was told she came here constantly. It was one of the things which induced me to come. So beautiful, so generous, so pious, I could not resist the desire to see her."
"It is possible you may be disappointed," said Briarfield. He was rather angry that the woman he hoped to marry should be talked about in such a way.
"Oh, no, I shall not be disappointed," replied the German. "Only half an hour ago I was told that while I was out walking with Signor Ricordo she was down here, and that she had arranged for a concert to be held in two evenings from now. Ah, and I love music! I who am from the country of Handel and Strauss, and Schubert and Wagner, I love it! I may be a poor, broken-down old German, but I love it, as I love all things beautiful."
"Is it not rather strange that your friend Signor Ricordo, who is a rich man, should have come to a place which was built—well, not as a money-making concern?" said Briarfield rather brutally.
"Is he rich?" asked the German.
"I thought you told me he was a man of considerable position."
"And what then, Mr. Briarfield? A man may be poor, and still be a gentleman. I am poor—but I do not say it to boast—I am of the best families in Germany. My mother was a Von Finkelstein, while the Trübners are of the best blood in my country. Ah, yes!"