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Updated: June 15, 2025
The question is, what shall we have for dinner, not who shall pay for it?" And then without awaiting a reply, he opened the door and called for Jenny. Pinac and Fico looked at each other. It was evident to them that Miss Husted had exaggerated Von Barwig's poverty, so their spirits rose at once. "Jenny! We take dinner here. Get me the menu, Poons.
"Come in," he repeated in a louder voice, and to his utter amazement in walked Beverly Cruger. Von Barwig could only stare at him in speechless astonishment. He was literally dumfounded. Young Cruger evidently saw this, for he seized Von Barwig's hand and shook it warmly. "How do you do, Herr Von Barwig?" he said. "Thank you, well!
Beverly would not acknowledge even to himself that he resented Herr Von Barwig's presence at the Stantons'. "How can our American women be so deceived by the artificial deference, the insincere, highly polished politeness of these foreigners!" he mused. "Von Barwig is probably an offshoot of some noble German house, but she's not apt to be attracted by an empty title!"
"But I wish to defray the entire expense," said Miss Stanton, greatly mystified at Von Barwig's refusal to receive payment for his work. "I cannot take money from you," he said. "Cannot take money from me? I do not understand you!" and Miss Stanton arose. "Please explain." There was an awkward pause. Von Barwig saw that he had made a mistake. "I like to help all children," he said somewhat lamely.
"What did he say?" asked Poons, losing Von Barwig's next remark in trying to hear what Karlschmidt was mumbling. "He said it's his own fault," whispered the second flute. "He's quite right," assented Karlschmidt. "Hush, hush!" came from one or two others. Von Barwig was addressing the men again, and they wanted to hear. "Let's play; cut the speeches out," growled Karlschmidt.
Freak? we have no freaks here! Oh," and a faint smile stole over Von Barwig's features, which he tried hard to repress. "You mean perhaps Miss Husted?" "Do I?" inquired Costello, "well, p'raps I do! She's of the vintage of 1776, and looks like a waxwork edition of " "Please, please!" remonstrated Von Barwig. "She is a lady, a most hospitable, kind-hearted lady!
Then with an effort, "It will not last long, eh?" "No," said Mr. Ryan, "it won't last a month! We'll put them out of business if it does. They'll weaken, Mr. Barwig, you'll see! They'll weaken all right." The ashen appearance of Von Barwig's face, the abject despair he saw depicted there aroused the man's sympathy. "It won't be long, Mr. Barwig," he repeated in a softened voice.
He went into the street and the noise and bustle of the Bowery jarred upon his sensitive ear. "To-morrow at three," he joyfully sang to himself. "To-morrow at three!" But high above the din and rattle of traffic and street noises, high above Von Barwig's song, rang out Costello's voice as if to drown his happiness. "Eat 'em alive," it said. "Eat 'em alive; eat 'em alive!"
Von Barwig and Poons looked at each other helplessly. Apart from the tragedy of two men trying to comfort a little child that had lost its parent, there remained in Von Barwig's mind a sense of the utter inability of the masculine individuality to fill the place of mother in the child's heart.
Perhaps some such fleeting thoughts as these glimpses into the past like those of a drowning man came into Anton Von Barwig's consciousness as he stepped quietly to the door leading from the reception-room and studio and passed into the corridor toward the living apartments.
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