Thereupon the two men pushed the cards aside and the young man whom Wedell had greeted as Serge took out his watch and said: "Quarter past three. Time for coffee. Some philosopher, and he must have been one of the greatest, once said that the best thing about coffee was that it was always suitable under all circumstances and at all times of day. Truly that was a wise saying. But where shall we take it? I think we had better sit outside on the terrace, right in the sun. The more one braves the weather the better one fares. Here, Pehlecke, three cups. I cannot listen to the falling of the pins any longer. It makes me nervous; outside, indeed, there is noise too, but it is different, and instead of the sharp strokes, we shall hear the rumbling and thundering of the underground railway, and we can imagine that we are on Vesuvius or AEtna. And why not? All pleasures are in the last analysis imaginary, and whoever has the best imagination enjoys the most pleasure. Only unreality gives value and is actually the only reality." "Serge," said the man who had been addressed as Pitt at the piquet table, "if you go on with your famous wise sayings, you will punish Wedell more severely than he deserves. Besides, you must have some mercy on me because I have been losing. So, we will stay here, with the lawn behind us, this ivy near us, and a view of a bare wall. A heavenly location for his Majesty's guards! What would old Prince Pueckler have said to this club garden? Pehlecke, here, bring the table here, that will do. And, to finish with, you may bring us some of your very best lager. And now, Wedell, if you want to win forgiveness, give your cloak a shake, and see if you cannot shake a new war or some other big piece of news out of it. You are related to God in heaven through the Puttkamers. With which branch I need not say. What more is he brewing?" "Pitt," said Wedell, "I beg you, don't ask me any questions about Bismarck. For in the first place, you know that I know nothing about such matters, because cousins in the seventeenth degree are not precisely the intimates and confidants of princes, and in the second place, I come, instead of from the Prince, direct from a shooting match where with a few hits and many, many misses, no other than his Highness was the target." "And who was this bold shot?" "The old Baron Osten, Rienaecker's uncle. A charming old gentleman and a good fellow. But of course a sly dog also." "Like all Maerkers." "I am one myself." "_Tant mieux_. Then you know all about it yourself. But out with it. What did the old fellow say?" "A good many things. His political talk was hardly worth reporting, but another bit of news was all the more important: Rienaecker has a sharp corner to turn." "And what corner?" "He is about to marry."