Spitzkopf laughed aloud, his comrades yelled and stamped.
“Let us go!” said Greifmann to Gerlach in an angry tone.
“Let us stay!” rejoined the latter with excitement. “The affair is becoming interesting. I want to see how this will end.”
The banker noticed Gerlach's suppressed indignation; he observed it in the fire of his eyes and the expression of unutterable contempt that had spread over his features, and he began to consider the situation as alarming. He had not expected this exhibition of brutal impertinence. In his estimation an infringement of propriety like the one he had just witnessed was a far more heinous transgression than the grossest violations in the sphere of morals. He judged of Gerlach's impressions by this standard of appreciation, and feared the behavior of the progressionist mob would produce an effect in the young man's mind far from favorable to the cause which they represented. He execrated the disturbance of the liberals, and took Seraphin's arm to lead him away.
“Come away, I beg of you! I cannot imagine what interest the rudeness of that uncultivated horde can have for you.”
“Do not scorn them, for they are honestly earning their pay,” rejoined Gerlach.
“What do you mean?”
“Those fellows are whistling, bawling, stamping, and yelling in the employ of progress. You are trying to give me an insight into the nature of modern civilization: could there be a better opportunity than this?”
“There you make a mistake, my dear fellow! Enlightened progress is never rude.”
To Be Continued.