"And none of your
devilish vinegars and scums."
Stuler pounced on the coin and rubbed it between his palms.
"Gold, Johann, gold?"
"Aye, gold; and the last of a pocketful, curse it! What's this
noise about?" with a gesture, toward the hall.
"The boys were in the Platz and had a brush with those damned
cuirassiers. They'll play a harder game yet." Stuler always took
sides with the students, on business principles; they
constituted his purse. "Tokayer?"
"No; champagne. Aye, these damned cuirassiers shall play a hard
game ere the week is done, or my name is not Johann Kopf. They
kicked me out of the palace grounds yesterday; me, me, me!"
hammering the oak with his fist.
"Who?"
"Von Mitter, the English-bred dog! I'll kill him one of these
days. Is it play to-night, or are they serious?" nodding again
toward the hall.
"Go in," said Stuler, "and look at some of those heads; a look
will answer the purpose."
Johann followed this advice. The picture he saw was one which
agreed with the idea that had come into his mind. He returned to
the bar-room. and drank his wine thirstily, refilled the glass
and emptied it.
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