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A man in pinçe-nez, a decadent doctor of philosophy, sells pale German cigars at three for ten pfennigs. Here we are among the plain people. They believe in Karl Marx, blutwurst and the Hofbräuhaus. They speak a German that is half speech and half grunt. One passes them to windward and enters the yard. A brighter scene. A cleaner, greener land.
Beyond, a noisy meeting of Socialists, a rehearsal of some liedertafel, a family reunion of four generations, a beer party of gay young bloods from the gas works, a conference of the executive committee of the horse butchers' union. Every second drinker has brought his lunch wrapped in newspaper; half a blutwurst, two radishes, an onion, a heel of rye bread.
For the ruffianish pages of Jack London, the pungent, hospitable smell of a first-class bar-room that indescribable mingling of Maryland rye, cigar smoke, stale malt liquor, radishes, potato salad and blutwurst. For the Dartmoor sagas of the interminable Phillpotts, the warm ammoniacal bouquet of cows, poultry and yokels. For the "Dodo" school, violets and Russian cigarettes.
It was in the very middle of the city, just round the corner from the cafe district, not more than half a mile, as the Blutwurst flies, from Unter den Linden.
"I don't exactly run it, but I do my best to drag it along and it's rather awkward from my being a new-comer; pice and rupees are novelties, and everything is supposed to be in German fashion." "German fashion!" echoed Shafto. "What's that?" "Oh, particular hours, particular food, Blutwurst, sausages, Russian salads, cakes, creams, and plenty of them."
"What shall we have for supper?" cry I, vivaciously. "I never can see anybody eating without longing to eat too. Blutwurst! That means black-pudding, I suppose certainly not that how they do call a spade a spade in German! By-the-by, what are the soldiers having? Can you see? I think I saw a vision of prawns! I saw things sticking out like their legs. I must find out!"
He's not a liability, he's an asset. So is the other one." "Who is it, Aleck?" "His Royal Highness Sigismund-Siegfriend-Lauenfeld-Dinkelspiel-Schwartzenberg Blutwurst, Hereditary Grant Duke of Katzenyammer." "No! You can't mean it!" "It's as true as I'm sitting here, I give you my word," she answered.
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