You can love anything--even a man like that."
And he went out muttering anathemas on the hearts of all women.
"It seems," he said, "that a woman can love anything."
Which is true; and a very good thing for some of us. For without
that Heaven-sent capacity the world could not go on at all.
It was later in the day when Barlasch made his way into the low and
smoke-grimed Bier Halle of the Weissen Ross'l. He must have known
Sebastian's habits, for he went straight to that corner of the great
room where the violin-player usually sat. The stout waitress--a
country girl of no intelligence, smiled broadly at the sight of such
a ragged customer as she followed him down the length of the
sawdust-strewn floor.
Sebastian's face showed no surprise when he looked up and recognized
the new-comer. The surrounding tables were empty. It was too early
in the evening for the regular customers, whose numbers, moreover,
had been sadly thinned during the last few months. For the peaceful
Dantzigers, remembering the siege of seven years ago, had mostly
fled at the first mention of the word.
Sebastian nodded in answer to Barlasch's somewhat ceremonious bow,
and by a gesture invited him to be seated on the chair upon which he
had already laid his hand. The atmosphere of the room was warm, and
Barlasch laid aside his sheepskin coat, as he had seen the great and
the rich divest themselves of their sables. He turned sharply and
caught the waitress with an amused smile still on her face.
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