Alfons went to the gramophone, and immediately the Pilgrims' Chorus from Tannhauser burst forth.
We listened in silence.
Hardly had the last tones died away than the kitchen door opened and the waiter, Hans, appeared with a bowl as big as a baby's bath tub.
It was steaming full of crabs.
Coughing, he set it on the table.
"Bring me a serviette, too," said Alfons.
"You are going to eat with us, friend?" exclaimed Lenz. "There's an honour."
"If the lady has nothing against it?" "The contrary, Alfons."
Pat moved her chair aside and he took a seat next her.
"Be as well if I sit beside you," said he, a trifle apologetic. "As a matter of fact I'm rather smart at serving them up. That's a bit tedious for a lady."
He dipped into the bowl and with uncanny rapidity set about dismantling a crab for her.
With his enormous hands he did it so deftly and elegantly that she had nothing to do but eat the morsels appetisingly offered her on a fork.
"Taste good?" he asked.
"Wonderful." She raised her glass. "Your health, Alfons.'"
Alfons touched glasses gaily and emptied his slowly.
I looked at her.
I should have preferred it had been something without alcohol.
She felt my glance.
"Salut, Bob," said she.
She was beautiful, radiantly happy.
"Salut, Pat," said I, and emptied my glass.
"Isn't it lovely here?" she asked, looking at me again.
"Grand." I filled mine once more. "Pros't, Pat!"
A glow passed over her face.
"Pros't, Bob; Pros't, Gottfried!"
We drank.
"Good wine," said Lenz.
"Graacher Abtsberg from last year," explained Alfons. "Glad you recognised it."
He hauled a second crab from the bowl and offered Pat the opened claw.
She declined.
"You must eat that yourself, Alfons. You'll get nothing otherwise."
"Later.
I'm quicker at it than the others."
"Very good." She took the claw.
Alfons beamed with pleasure and helped her to some more.
He looked like a great old owl feeding a little, white fledgling.
In conclusion we all drank one more round of Napoleon and then took leave of Alfons.
Pat was delighted. "It was lovely," said she. "Thank you very much, Alfons.
It was perfectly lovely."
She gave him her hand. Alfons murmured something and kissed it.
Lenz's eyes almost dropped out of his head with amazement.
"Come again soon," said Alfons. "You too, Gottfried."
Little and forlorn under the lamp post outside stood the Citroen.
"Oh," said Pat and' stopped short. A tremor passed over her face.
"After his performance to-day I've christened him Hercules," said Gottfried, opening the door. "Should I drive you home?"
"No," said Pat.
"That is what I thought.
Where do we go then?"
"To 'The Bar' or not, Robby?" She turned to me.
"Of course," said I; "of course we are going to 'The Bar.'"