“I know when people like one’s looks. It is not for that reason they
stare.”
“Ignore them,” said Brand. “Tell me about Franz and Frau von Detmold.”
It was unwise of him to sprinkle his conversation with German names.
The waiter at our table was listening attentively. Presently I saw him
whispering behind the screen to one of his comrades and looking our way
sullenly.
He kept us waiting an unconscionable time for coffee, and when at last
Brand gave his arm to Elsa and led her from the room, he gave a harsh
laugh as they passed, and I heard the words, “_Sale Boche!_” spoken in
a low tone of voice, yet loud enough for all the room to hear. From all
the little tables there came titters of laughter and those words, “_Sale
Boche!_” were repeated by several voices. I hoped that Elsa and Brand
had not heard, but I saw Elsa sway a little on her husband’s arm as
though struck by an invisible blow, and Brand turned with a look of
passion, as though he would hit the waiter or challenge the whole room
to warfare. But Elsa whispered to him, and he went with her up the
staircase to their rooms.
The next morning when I met them at breakfast Elsa still looked
desperately tired, though very happy, and Brand had lost a little of
his haggard look and his nerve was steadier. But it was an uncomfortable
moment for all of us when the manager came to the table and regretted
with icy courtesy that their rooms would not be available another night
owing to a previous arrangement which he had unfortunately overlooked.
“Nonsense!” said Brand, shortly. “I have taken these rooms for three
nights, and I intend to stay in them.”
“It is impossible,” said the manager. “I must ask you to have your
baggage packed by twelve o’clock.”
Brand dealt with him firmly.
“I am an English officer. If I hear another word from you I will call on
the Provost Marshal and get him to deal with you.”
The manager bowed. This threat cowed him, and he said no more about
a change of rooms. But Brand and his wife, and I, as their friend,
suffered from a policy of passive resistance to our presence. The
chambermaid did not answer their bell, having become strangely deaf.
The waiter was generally engaged at other tables whenever we wanted him.
The hall porter turned his back upon us. The page-boys made grimaces
behind our backs, as I saw very well in the gilt mirror, and as Elsa
saw.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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