Evening had set in. The card-table had been arranged, and Leberecht had rolled his master to it, taking his place behind his chair. The hour of whist the general impatiently awaited the entire day, and it was regularly observed. Even in the contract with his adopted son it had been expressly mentioned as a duty, that he should not only secure to them yearly income, but also devote an hour to cards every evening.
Herr Ebenstreit regarded it as a tax, which he must observe until married. The general was much his superior at cards, and, moreover, played the dummy, and the stake being high, it was quite an income for the future father-in-law, and regarded by him as the one bright spot in his daily life.
The cards had been dealt, and Leberecht had assorted the general’s, and placed them in his gouty hand, when Trude entered, exultingly.
“What has happened? What makes you interrupt us?” cried the general. “Did you not remember that I have told you always not to disturb us at this hour.”
“Yes, general, but I thought good news was never amiss.”
“What have you pleasant to tell us?” harshly demanded Frau von Werrig.
“My young lady’s compliments,” cried Trude, triumphantly; “she begins to see that she must yield to her fate, and that it will do no good to resist any longer. She will be ready for the ceremony at eleven o’clock to-morrow morning.”
The general uttered a cry of joy, and struck the table so violently, with his hand, that the cards were thrown together.
His wife bowed dignifiedly, and the happy bridegroom gave old Trude some gold-pieces upon the favorable news.
“Has she, then, been converted by your persuasion?” he asked.