What was it like up the mountains?"
"If it weren't for the illness, a paradise.
Snow and sun."
He looked up.
"Snow and sun?
Sounds improbable, eh?"
"Yes.
Damned improbable.
Everything there is improbable."
"What are you doing to-night?" said he.
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Taking my traps home first."
"I have to go out for an hour or so now.
What about coming along to 'The Bar' afterwards?"
"Sure," said I. "What else is there?"
I collected my trunk at the railway station and took it home.
I opened the door as quietly as I could, for I had no wish to talk to anyone.
I managed to get in without falling into the hands of Frau Zalewski.
I remained awhile sitting in my room.
On the table were letters and newspapers.
The letters were obviously circulars.
Nobody wrote to me.
But now I shall have someone, thought I.
After a time I stood up, washed and changed.
I did not unpack my bag; I wanted to have something to do still when I came home alone.
Nor did I go into Pat's room, though I knew nobody was in there yet.
I slipped quietly down the passage and when I was outside, breathed again.
I went into the Cafe International to get something to eat.
The waiter, Alois, greeted me at the door.
"You here again?"
"Yes," said I, "one always comes back in the end."
Rosa was sitting with the other girls at a large table.They were nearly all there—it was the interval between the first and second patrols.
"Good Lord, Robert!" said Rosa. "You're a stranger."
"Don't ask questions, Rosa," said I. "The main thing is I am here again."
"How's that?
Will you be coming often?"
"Probably."
"Don't take it hardly," said she, looking at me. "Everything passes."
"True," said I. "The one sure thing in the world."
"Certainly," replied Rosa. "Lill y has a song like that, too."
"Lilly?" I now saw her for the first time, sitting beside Rosa. "What are you doing here, Lilly?
I thought you were married? You ought to be at home, looking after the plumbing business."
Lilly did not reply.
"Plumbing business!" said Rosa scornfully. "While she still had any money all went smooth as butter, it was Lilly here and Lilly there; the past didn't matter at all.
Just six months that lasted.
And when he'd got the last penny out of her, fine gentleman that he'd made of himself with her money, suddenly had no use for a common prostitute as a wife." She snorted. "Suddenly never knew anything about her past; was no end surprised to hear it.
So much so that he made it a ground for divorce.
But the money was gone of course."
"How much was it, then?" I asked.
"Four thousand marks, no small trifle!