The Fortune Hunter

  III

  FORTUNE FAVORS THE IMPUDENT

  Like all people who lead useful lives and neither have nor pretend tohave acquired tastes for fine-drawn emotion, Otto and Hilda indulged inlittle mooning. They put aside their burdens--hers of dread, his ofdespair--and went about the work that had to be done and thathealthfully filled almost all their waking moments; and when bed-timecame their tired bodies refused either to sit up with their brains orto let their brains stay awake. But it was gray and rainy for Hildaand black night for Otto.

  On Sunday morning he rose at half-past three, instead of at four, hisweek-day rising time. Many of his hard-working customers were astirbetimes on Sunday to have the longer holiday. As they would spend thedaylight hours in the country and would not reach home until after theshop had closed, they bought the supplies for a cold or warmed-upsupper before starting. Otto looked so sad--usually he was in highspirits--that most of these early customers spoke to him or to JoeSchwartz about his health. There were few of them who did not know whatwas troubling him. Among those friendly and unpretending andwell-acquainted people any one's affairs were every one's affairs--whymake a secret of what was, after all, only the routine of human lifethe world over and the ages through? Thus Otto had the lively buttactful sympathy of the whole community.

  He became less gloomy under the warmth of this succession of friendlyfaces and friendly inquiries. But as trade slackened, toward noon, hehad more leisure to think, and the throbbing ache returned to his heavyheart. All the time pictures of her were passing before his eyes. Hehad known her so long and she had become such an intimate part of hisdaily life, so interwoven with it, that he could not look at present,past or future without seeing her.

  Why, he had known her since she was a baby. Did he not remember theday when he, a small boy on his way to school, had seen her toddleacross the sidewalk in front of him? Could he ever forget how she hadreached with great effort into a snowbank, had dug out with her small,red-mittened hands a chunk of snow, and, lifting it high above herhead, had thrown it weakly at him with such force that she had fallenheadlong upon the sidewalk? He had seen her every day sincethen--every day!

  He most clearly of all recalled her as a school-girl. Those were thedays of the German bands of six and seven and even eight pieces,wandering as the hand-organs do now. And always with them came a swarmof little girls who danced when the band played, and of little boys wholistened and watched. He had often followed her as she followed aband, all day on a Saturday. And he had never wearied of watching herlong, slim legs twinkling tirelessly to the music. She invented newfigures and variations on steps which the other girls adopted. She andher especial friends became famous among the children throughout theEast Side; even grown people noted the grace and originality of aparticular group of girls, led by a black-haired, slim-legged one whodanced with all there was of her. And how their mothers did whip themwhen they returned from a day of this forbidden joy! But they were offagain the next Saturday--who would not pass a bad five minutes for thesake of hours on hours of delight?

  And Hilda was gone from his life, was sailing away on his ship--was itnot his ship? was not its cargo his hopes and dreams and plans?--wassailing away with another man at the helm! And he could donothing--must sit dumb upon the shore.

  At half-past twelve he closed the shop and, after the midday dinnerwith his mother, went down to Brauner's. Hilda was in the room back ofthe shop, alone, and so agitated with her own affairs that she forgotto be cold and contemptuous to Otto. He bowed to her, then stoodstaring at the framed picture of Die Wacht am Rhein as if he had neverbefore seen the wonderful lady in red and gold seated under a tree andgazing out over the river--all the verses were underneath. When hecould stare at it no longer he turned to the other wall where hung thetarget bearing the marks of Paul Brauner's best shots in the prizecontest he had won. But he saw neither the lady watching the Rhine northe target with its bullet holes all in the bull's-eye ring, and itspendent festoon of medals. He was longing to pour out his love forher, to say to her the thousand things he could say to the image of herin his mind when she was not near. But he could only stand, an awkwardfigure, at which she would have smiled if she had seen it at all.

  She went out into the shop. While he was still trying to lay hold ofan end of the spinning tangle of his thoughts and draw it forth in thehope that all would follow, she returned, fright in her eyes. Sheclasped her hands nervously and her cheeks blanched. "Mr. Feuerstein!"she exclaimed. "And he's coming here! What SHALL I do?"

  "What is the matter?" he asked.

  She turned upon him angrily--he was the convenient vent for hernervousness. "It's all your fault!" she exclaimed. "They want toforce me to marry you. And I dare not bring here the man I love."

  "My fault?" he muttered, dazed. "I'm not to blame."

  "Stupid! You're always in the way--no wonder I HATE you!" She wasclasping and unclasping her hands, trying to think, not conscious ofwhat she was saying.

  "Hate me?" he repeated mechanically. "Oh, no--surely not that. No, youcan't--"

  "Be still! Let me think. Ach! Gott im Himmel! He's in the hall!"She sank wretchedly into a chair. "Can you do nothing but gape andmutter?" In her desperation her tone was appealing.

  "He can say he came with me," said Otto. "I'll stand for him."

  "Yes--yes!" she cried. "That will do! Thank you--thank you!" And asthe knock came at the door she opened it. She had intended to bereproachful, but she could not. This splendid, romantic creature, withhis graceful hat and his golden hair and his velvet collar, was toocompelling, too overpowering. Her adoring love put her at a hopelessdisadvantage. "Oh--Mr. Feuerstein," she murmured, her color coming andgoing with the rise and fall of her bosom.

  Mr. Feuerstein majestically removed his hat and turned a look ofhaughty inquiry upon Otto. Otto's fists clenched--he longed to discussthe situation in the only way which seemed to him to meet itsrequirements.

  "Hilda," said the actor, when he thought there had been a long enoughpause for an imposing entrance, "I have come to end the deception--tomake you, before the world, as you are before Almighty God, myaffianced bride."

  "You--you mustn't," implored Hilda, her fears getting the better of herawe.

  "If my parents learn now--just now, they will--oh, it will be hopeless!"

  "I can not delay, angel of my heart!" He gave her the look that is thetheatrical convention for love beyond words. "It must be settled atonce. I must know my fate. I must put destiny to the touch and knowhappiness or--hell!"

  "Bah!" thought Otto. "He has to hurry matters--he must be in trouble.He's got to raise the wind at once."

  "Mr. Feuerstein--Carl!" pleaded Hilda. "PLEASE try to be practical."She went up to him, and Otto turned away, unable to bear the sight ofthat look of love, tenderness and trust. "You must not--at least, notright away." She turned to Otto. "Help me, Otto. Explain to him."

  Heilig tried to put courtesy in his voice as he said to Mr. Feuerstein:"Miss Brauner is right. You'll only wreck her--her happiness. We'replain people down here and don't understand these fine, grand ways.You must pass as my friend whom I brought here--but I make onecondition." He drew a long breath and looked at Hilda. For the firsttime she heard him, the real Otto Heilig, speak. "Hilda," he went on,"I don't want to hurt you--I'd do anything for you, except hurt you.And I can't stand for this fel--for Mr. Feuerstein, unless you'llpromise me you won't marry him, no matter what he may say, until yourfather has had a chance to find out who and what he is."

  Mr. Feuerstein drew himself up grandly. "Who is this person, MissBrauner?" he demanded with haughty coldness.

  "He don't know any better," she replied hurriedly. "He's an oldfriend. Trust me, Mr. Feuer--Carl! Everything depends on it."

  "I can not tolerate this coarse hand between me and the woman I love.No more deception! Carl Feuerstein"--how he did roll out thatname!--"can guard his own honor and his own destiny."

  The
door into the private hall opened and in came Brauner and his wife,fine pictures of homely content triumphing over the discomforts ofSunday clothes. They looked at Mr. Feuerstein with candidlyquestioning surprise. Avenue A is not afraid to look, and speak, itsmind. Otto came forward. "This is Mr. Feuerstein," he said.

  At once Brauner showed that he was satisfied, and Mrs. Brauner beamed."Oh, a friend of yours," Brauner said, extending his hand. "Glad tosee any friend of Otto's."

  Mr. Feuerstein advanced impressively and bowed first over Brauner'shand, then over Mrs. Brauner's. "I am not a friend of this--youngman," he said with the dignity of a Hoheit. "I have come here topropose for the honor of your daughter's hand in marriage."

  Mr. Feuerstein noted the stupefied expression of the delicatessendealer and his wife, and glanced from Otto to Hilda with a triumphantsmile. But Hilda was under no delusion. She shivered and moved nearerto Otto. She felt that he was her hope in this crisis which the madlove of her hero-lover had forced. Brauner was the more angry becausehe had been thus taken by surprise.

  "What nonsense is this?" he growled, shaking his head violently. "Mydaughter is engaged to a plain man like ourselves."

  At this Heilig came forward again, pale and sad, but calm. "No, Mr.Brauner--she is not engaged. I'm sure she loves this gentleman, and Iwant her to be happy. I can not be anything to her but her friend.And I want you to give him a chance to show himself worthy of her."

  Brauner burst out furiously at Hilda. The very presence of this gaudy,useless-looking creature under his roof was an insult to his three godsof honor and happiness--his "Arbeit und Liebe und Heim."

  "What does this mean?" he shouted.

  "Where did you find this crazy fellow? Who brought him here?"

  Hilda flared. "I love him, father! He's a noble, good man. I shallalways love him. Listen to Otto--it'll break my heart if you frown onmy marrying the man I love." There was a touch of Mr. Feuerstein inher words and tone.

  "Let's have our game, Mr. Brauner," interrupted Otto. "All this can besettled afterward. Why spoil our afternoon?"

  Brauner examined Mr. Feuerstein, who was posing as a statue of gloomywrath.

  "Who are you?" he demanded in the insulting tone which exactlyexpressed his state of mind.

  Mr. Feuerstein cast up his eyes. "For Hilda's sake!" he murmuredaudibly. Then he made a great show of choking down his wrath. "I,sir, am of an ancient Prussian family--a gentleman. I saw your peerlessdaughter, sought an introduction, careless who or what she was in birthand fortune. Love, the leveler, had conquered me. I--"

  "Do you work?" Brauner broke in. "What are your prospects? What haveyou got? What's your character? Have you any respectable friends whocan vouch for you? You've wandered into the wrong part of town. Downhere we don't give our daughters to strangers or do-nothings orrascals. We believe in love--yes. But we also have a little commonsense and self-respect." Brauner flung this at Mr. Feuerstein inHigh-German. Hilda, mortified and alarmed, was also proud that herfather was showing Mr. Feuerstein that she came of people who knewsomething, even if they were "trades-folk."

  "I can answer all your questions to your satisfaction," replied Mr.Feuerstein loftily, with a magnanimous wave of his white hand. "Myfriends will speak for me. And I shall give you the addresses of mynoble relatives in Germany, though I greatly fear they will oppose mymarriage. You, sir, were born in the Fatherland. You know theirprejudices."

  "Don't trouble yourself," said Brauner ironically. "Just take yourselfoff and spare yourself the disgrace of mingling with us plain folk.Hilda, go to your room!" Brauner pointed the stem of his pipe towardthe outside door and looked meaningly at Mr. Feuerstein.

  Hilda, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed, put herself betweenMr. Feuerstein and the door. "I guess I've got something to say aboutthat!" she exclaimed. "Father, you can't make me marry Otto Heilig. IHATE him. I guess this is a free country. I shall marry Mr.Feuer--Carl." She went up to him and put her arm through his andlooked up at him lovingly. He drew her to him protectingly, and for aninstant something of her passionate enthusiasm fired him, or rather,the actor in him.

  Otto laid his hand on Brauner's arm.

  "Don't you see, sir," he said in Low-German, very earnestly, "thatyou're driving her to him? I beg you"--in a lower tone--"for the sakeof her future--don't drive him out, and her with him. If he reallywould make her a good husband, why not let her have him? If he's notwhat he claims, she won't have him."

  Brauner hesitated. "But she's yours. Her mother and I have promised.We are people of our word."

  "But I won't marry her--not unless she wishes it, she herself. Andnothing can be done until this man has had a chance."

  It was evident from Brauner's face that he was yielding to this commonsense. Hilda looked at Otto gratefully. "Thank you, Otto," she said.He shook his head mournfully and turned away.

  Brauner gave Mr. Feuerstein a contemptuous glance. "Perhaps Otto'sright," he growled. "You can stay. Let us have our game, Otto."

  Mrs. Brauner hurried to the kitchen to make ready for four-o'clockcoffee and cake. Hilda arranged the table for pinochle, and when herfather and Otto were seated, motioned her lover to a seat beside her onthe sofa.

  "Heart's bride," he said in a low tone, "I am prostrated by what I haveborne for your sake."

  "I love you," she said softly, her young eyes shining like Titania'swhen she was garlanding her ass-headed lover. "You were right, mybeloved. We shall win--father is giving in. He's very good-natured,and now he's used to the idea of our love."

  Otto lost the game, and, with his customary patience, submitted to thecustomary lecture on his stupidity as a player. Brauner was once morein a good humor. Having agreed to tolerate Mr. Feuerstein, he wasalready taking a less unfavorable view of him. And Mr. Feuerstein laidhimself out to win the owner of three tenements. He talked Germanpolitics with him in High-German, and applauded his accent and hisopinions. He told stories of the old German Emperor and Bismarck, andfinally discovered that Brauner was an ardent admirer of Schiller. Hesaw a chance to make a double stroke--to please Brauner and to feed hisown vanity.

  "With your permission, sir," he said, "I will give a soliloquy fromWallenstein."

  Brauner went to the door leading down the private hall. "Mother!" hecalled. "Come at once. Mr. Feuerstein's going to act."

  Hilda was bubbling over with delight. Otto sat forgotten in thecorner. Mrs. Brauner came bustling, her face rosy from the kitchenfire and her hands moist from a hasty washing. Mr. Feuerstein waiteduntil all were seated in front of him. He then rose and advanced withstately tread toward the clear space. He rumpled his hair, drew downhis brows, folded his arms, and began a melancholy, princely pacing ofthe floor. With a suddenness that made them start, he burst outthunderously. He strode, he roared, he rolled his eyes, he waved hisarms, he tore at his hair. It was Wallenstein in a soul-sweat. Thefloor creaked, the walls echoed. His ingenuous auditors, except Otto,listened and looked with bated breath. They were as vastly impressedas is a drawing-room full of culture-hunters farther up town when a mandiscourses to them on a subject of which he knows just enough for awordy befuddling of their ignorance. And the burst of applause whichgreeted the last bellowing groan was full as hearty as that whichgreets the bad singing or worse playing at the average musicale.

  Swollen with vanity and streaming with sweat, Mr. Feuerstein sat down."Good, Mr. Feuerstein--ah! it is grand!" said Brauner. Hilda looked ather lover proudly. Otto felt that the recitation was idiotic--"Nobodyever carried on like that," he said to himself. But he also felt thepitiful truth, "I haven't got a ghost of a chance."

  He rose as soon as he could muster the courage. "I must get back andhelp Schwartz open up," he said, looking round forlornly. "It's fiveo'clock."

  "You must stay to coffee," insisted Mrs. Brauner. It should have beenserved before, but Mr. Feuerstein's exhibition had delayed it.

  "No--I must work," he replied. "It
's five o'clock."

  "That's right," said Brauner with an approving nod. "Business first!I must go in myself--and you, too, Hilda." The late Sunday afternoonopening was for a very important trade.

  Hilda blushed--the descent from the romantic to the practical jarredupon her. But Mr. Feuerstein rose and took leave most graciously."May I return this evening?" he said to Brauner.

  "Always glad to see our friends," answered Brauner with a shamefaced,apologetic look at Otto.

  At seven o'clock that evening Otto, just closing his shop, saw Mr.Feuerstein and Hilda pass on their way toward Tompkins Square. A fewminutes later Sophie came along. She paused and tried to draw him intoconversation. But he answered briefly and absently, graduallyretreating into the darkness of his shop and pointedly drawing the doorbetween him and her. Sophie went on her way downcast, but not in theleast disheartened. "When Hilda is Mrs. Feuerstein," she said toherself.