United States or Latvia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He vaulted the bar. Stuler looked undecided. "Come!" commanded Johann. With another shake of his head Stuler took down the tallow dip, unlocked the door, and bade Johann pass in. He caught up another bottle and glass and followed.
"Forget not the gold, the yellow gold; little heaps of it to finger, to count, and to spend." Stuler's eyes gleamed phosphorescently. There was the strain of the ancient marauder in his veins; gold easily gotten. He opened the door, and Johann passed out, swaying. The wine was taking hold of him. He turned into the hall, while Stuler busied himself with the spigots.
"The boys were in the Platz and had a brush with those damned cuirassiers. They'll play a harder game yet." Stuler always took sides with the students, on business principles; they constituted his purse. "Tokayer?" "No; champagne. Aye, these damned cuirassiers shall play a hard game ere the week is done, or my name is not Johann Kopf.
The picture he saw was one which agreed with the idea that had come into his mind. He returned to the bar-room. and drank his wine thirstily, refilled the glass and emptied it. Stuler shook his head. Johann was in a bad way when he gulped wine instead of sipping it. Yet it was always so after a carouse. "Where have you been keeping yourself the past week?" he asked.
Johann reached over and caught the innkeeper's wrist. The grasp was no gentle one. "Listen, that was a slip of the tongue. Repeat it, and that for your life! Do you understand, my friend?" "Gott in " "Do you understand?" fiercely. "Yes, yes!" Stuler wiped his face with his apron. "Good, if you understand. It was naught but a slip of the tongue," nonchalantly.
Old Stuler's was thronged. Stuler himself looked on indifferently, even listlessly. He had heard of Kopf's death. It was half after five of the afternoon. Six miles beyond the Althofen bridge, in all thirteen miles from Bleiberg, a long, low cloud of dust hung over the king's highway.
"Wine, Stuler, wine!" he called, laying down a coin, which gleamed dimly yellow in the opalescent light. "And none of your devilish vinegars and scums." Stuler pounced on the coin and rubbed it between his palms. "Gold, Johann, gold?" "Aye, gold; and the last of a pocketful, curse it! What's this noise about?" with a gesture, toward the hall.
"I shall want it, two nights from this, in case Madame the duchess does not conquer the Englishman. I shall want two fellows who will ask no questions, but who will follow my instructions to the letter. It is an abduction." "A nasty business," was Stuler's comment. "You have women to thank for your present occupation, Johann." "Stuler, you are a fool. It is not a woman; it is a crown." "Eh?"
This historic relic of the Konigstrasse had been the headquarters of one of the branches of these numerous societies; and the students still held to those ancient traditions. But men and epochs pass swiftly; only the inanimate remain. This temple of patriotism is simply an inn to-day, owned by one Stuler, and is designated by those who patronize it as "Old Stuler's."
If the students were his purse, Johann was his budget of news. "You ask that?" surlily. "You knew I had money; you knew that I was off somewhere spending it God knows where, I don't. Another bottle of wine. There's enough left from the gold to pay for it." Stuler complied.
Word Of The Day