Alfons smirked, blew out his lips and made his eyes small.
"You're in luck.
There's crab to-day."
He took a step back to observe the effect.
It was first rate.
"With it, a glass of new Moselle wine," he whispered, delighted, taking yet another step back.
He received a storm of applause—and particularly from the door, where with wild, yellow hair and sunburnt nose appeared the grinning face of the last of the romantics.
"Gottfried!" exclaimed Alfons. "You?
Yourself?
Man, what a day!
Come to my bosom!"
"Now you'll see something," said I to Pat.
The two rushed into each other's arms.
Alfons slapped Lenz on the back until it sounded as if there were a smithy next door.
"Hans," he then shouted across to the waiter, "bring the Napoleon."
He lugged Gottfried to the bar.
The waiter brought out a large dusty bottle.
Alfons poured out two grasses.
"Pros't, Gottfried, you damned old roast pig."
"Pros't, Alfons, good old turnkey."
The two emptied their glasses at a gulp.
"First rate," said Gottfried. "A cognac for madonnas."
"A pity to tip it down like that," agreed Alfons.
"But how can one drink slowly when one is happy.
Come, let's have another." He poured out and raised his glass. "You faithless old tomato, you." Lenz laughed. "My dear old Alfons."
Alfons' eyes became moist. "Once more, Gottfried," said he, moved.
"On with the dance." Lenz held out his glass. "I only say No to a cognac when I can't raise my head off the floor."
"That's the way to talk." Alfons poured out the third glass.
A little out of breath, Lenz came to the table.
He took out his watch.
"Arrived at the workshop with the Citroen ten minutes to eight.
What do you say to that?"
"A record," replied Pat. "Long live Jupp!
I'll present him with a box of cigarettes myself."
"And you will get one portion of crab extra for your share," declared Alfons, who had followed on Gottfried's heels.
Then he handed us each a sort of tablecloth. "Take your coats off and tie this round.
Does the lady allow it, or not?"
"I consider it necessary, even," said Pat.
Alfons nodded his pleasure.
"You are a sensible woman, I knew that.
One must eat crab in comfort. Without fear of spots." He beamed. "You, of course, get something a bit smarter."
The waiter, Hans, brought a snow-white cook's apron.
Alfons unfolded it and helped her in.
"Suits you," he commented.
"The very thing," she replied laughing.
"I'm glad you like it," said Alfons amiably.
"It warms one's heart."
"Alfons!" Gottfried knotted his tablecloth around his neck so that the points stuck away out. "I must say, at the moment it looks more like a barber's shop here than anything."
"We'll soon change that.
But a little bit of art first."