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At that moment the footman entered the room and said there was a gentleman downstairs who wished to speak with her. "What is his name?" asked Mrs. Bergmann. The footman said he had not caught the gentleman's name, and he handed her a card on a tray. She took the card. On it was written: MR. NICHOLAS L. SATAN, I, Pandemonium Terrace, BURNING MARLE, HELL. Telephone, No. I Central.
Bergmann was a man of great executive ability and carried economy of manufacture to the limit. Among all the men I have had associated with me, he had the commercial instinct most highly developed." One need not wonder at Edison's reminiscent remark that, "In any trade any of my 'boys' made with Bergmann he always got the best of them, no matter what it was.
He made such a scene that he had to be removed by the police. I met him several days afterward and he said he had forgiven Mr. Bergmann, as he was such a smart business man, and the scheme was so ingenious.
As spring came on things mended expenses grew less, work pleasanter, and life more bearable than when wintry storms beat on his thinly clad back, and frost pinched the toes that patiently trudged in old boots. No debts burdened him; the year of absence was nearly over; and if he chose to stay, Herr Bergmann had hopes for him that would bring independence for a time at least.
Count Sciarra was engaged in a third monologue at the head of the table. He was talking at the same time to Mrs. Bergmann, Lady Irene, and Lady Hyacinth about the devil. "Ah que j'aime le diable!" he was saying in low, tender tones. "The devil who creates your beauty to lure us to destruction, the devil who puts honey into the voice of the siren, the dolce sirena
"Oh! no," answered Mrs. Bergmann with decision, "they would ruin any luncheon." "A Saint?" suggested Mr. Satan, "Antony, Ditto of Padua, Athanasius, Augustine, Anselm?" "Good heavens, no," said Mrs. Bergmann. "A Theologian, good arguer?" asked Mr. Satan, "Aquinas, T?" "No," interrupted Mrs. Bergmann, "for heaven's sake don't always give me the A's, or we shall never get on to anything.
"Over the stamp, please," said Mr. Satan. "Must I er sign it in blood?" asked Mrs. Bergmann, hesitatingly. "You can if you like," said Mr. Satan, "but I prefer red ink; it is quicker and more convenient." He handed her a stylograph pen. "Must it be witnessed?" she asked. "No," he replied, "these kind of documents don't need a witness." In a firm, bold handwriting Mrs.
"If you will be so good," and he stood aside for Michael to pass up the stairs in front of him. In the wide corridor behind he joined him again. "Allow me to introduce myself as Count von Bergmann," he said, "and one of His Majesty's aides-de-camp. The Kaiser always speaks with great pleasure of the visits he has paid to your father, and he saw you immediately he came into the theatre.
You'll be offering me Adam and Abel next." "I beg your pardon," said Mr. Satan, "Latimer, Laud Historic Interest, Church and Politics combined," he added quickly. "I don't want a clergyman," said Mrs. Bergmann. "Artist?" said Mr. Satan, "Andrea del Sarto, Angelo, M., Apelles?" "You're going back to the A's," interrupted Mrs. Bergmann.
Her grasp on the roll of music slackened. A radiance came for a moment behind the gravity of her face. Then the careful unstumbling repetition of a difficult passage drew her attention to the performer, her arms dropped to her sides and she passed on. It was little Bergmann, the youngest girl in the school.
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