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Show It v 3 i ; " r, t jt t'.e rt!a 'was I -Z'.' 2 C ; . n in torrents. I f ' ;. I chat.:.-- with the p "-tier in the t Hotel "Mailer..,, st," r.eat .I-li'.c re. "V.'t'!, to Jay purely r.o one will ce." sail the portler. "It is a good thh-T Cat V9 have nearly all the rooms (.n;.el.,M ' l-'e tali this In a manner as if he did t ot care a continental whether the ro'-Tvjg vvere occupied or not. Ihe portler was a maaof experience, ho had spent his whole life sitting in n easy chair outside a hotel at Nice in v inter and at the seashore resort near I.:.-..-.ore In summer. On his travels between, be-tween, places he had seen many things tad met many people. And as he was a wise man of an observing nature, his txperiences had left plain traces in his face, which at once betrayed him as a pessimist and a cynic He not only carefully noticed the number of trunks of arriving guests, but also made mental men-tal notes of their owners and treated them not according to the tips he was I taw I vi: h?d thf re ere r-.oir.cr.ts when we are fx r.tlmer.tal that the f-o,,J Cod wouli let his tun break throuc.i tve clouJs, if or.ly for a couple cf hours, foi the pake cf these two lovers. And really the rain did ceas. An hur later the park lay bathed in sunshine andAl the-wet leaves on the trees plljw tened, and the sea was a beautiful blje. as we see It otherwise only in our dreams. Suddenly I saw the little bride run acrcsa the lawn toward Ophelia" spring. She reached it and stood there holding her tkirts high. 'What beautiful little Teet she had. "Friedrlch! Friedrich!" . Her husband came hurriedly, and together to-gether they looked at Ophelia's spring, which only runs on Sundays. Standing close together they looked at the spring and thought of the story the sad and beautiful rtory of love. When dinner came they sat in an out-of-the-way corner half hidden by the heavy silk portieres at a little table eeti with flowers which they had all to themselves. , They ate slowly, looked at ach other lovingly, and ate again, slowly and beM-tatlnfflr. beM-tatlnfflr. as If fearlnr thnt it a all h dream which would be over too soon. And I, who knew the leader of the orchestra, or-chestra, went over to him and asked him to play the "Llebestod." from "Tristan "Tris-tan and Isolde." "Good gracious!" he exclaimed, "one does not play Wagner during dinner." But I insisted. "Please do it anyway; i you do not know whom you might make happy." But he disappointed me, and Immediately Immedi-ately after the tones of the wedding march- from "A Midsummer Night's Dream" sounded through the room. Through the glass wall I looked at the youngcouple. They 'smiled and their heads moved in time to the music and their eyes were full of the light of lore. And when he raised his glass to hers her hand trembled so that she spilt some of the Burgundy on the tablecloth. But all around the rattling of plates and the frou-frou of ellk and the empty chatter of prosaic people drowned the tones of the wedding march which they did not listen to, did not know or had expecting, but according to his own pe- cullar estimate of their character. We saw the empty hotel bus come up through the park and the portler had already turned to retire to "his ofQce when I called him. "Portier, there is somebody, anyhow." any-how." - And both of us saw a young couple sitting closely together as two birds in a tree in a corner of the bus. j On top of the bus was one lonely little ! trunk. Thev descended. The man was tall, slender, with dark yes and wearing a mackintosh; the lady was little, dressed in a suit of linen, lin-en, without any, raincoat, but with the sweetest little face. : The genUeman asked In German: , ". "Can we get a room here?" "Certainly," replied the portler. r "For one night?" he asked, while his eyes seemed fascinated by the broad marble stairway. "Certainly," the portler replied. "But on the top floor," said the lady, ' bashfully, not daring to look up. 1 - "Certainly," came the answer from forgotten. . The young wife had set down her glass. With eyes which shone of happiness hap-piness she was looking out toward the sea, while listening rapturously to the beautiful tune of love. Suddenly she leaned over the table and took a rosebud from the vase and put it in her husband's buttonhole. Outside it was raining again. Half hidden in a mist lay the Swedish coast. - In the evening the promenade was deserted. de-serted. Only two stood there in the rain looking at the light" of Helslngborg. Then they, too, went in. They went into the hall, where ladles In evening toilettes were idling the time away under electric lights ami beautiful palms, with sleepy-looking gentlemen lazily puffing their cigarettes, unconscious uncon-scious of the beautiful music. "How beautiful it is here," said the little bride, and in a whisper she added, "Thanks, Friedrich!" The next morning, when I went down top my mail, the bus was before the door. It was running again.' A porter was carrying down a little trunk. Behind Be-hind him came the young couple. The portier was nowhere to be seen: The young people entered the bus and were driven away. As soon as they had left the portler appeared. "God knows what deserted place they go to now," he said, looking after the bus. "Yes, who knows," I angered. "All dreams are short," added the portier, por-tier, philosophically. the portier once more. Piccolos in blue Jackets with gilt buttons, but-tons, portlers with blue vests and red striped sleeves, and waiters in evening suits with their number in golden figures fig-ures on the lapels of their coats had come from all sides. ' The couple stood there, unable to de-' de-' cide what to do, lost in contemplation of the costly rugs on the floors. Then he said suddenly, as a man who has made a heroic resolution, "And how much is a room for one night?" ' "Six crowns," said the portier. "Six crowns," repeated the man, evidently evi-dently startled. . "Yes, sir," replied the portier. who was looking at the couple with the kind expression of a benevolent ,uncle. The man hesitated a moment. But the little ladr whispered, beseechingly, be-seechingly, "Oh, Friedrich, let us stay here. It is so beautiful." "As you will. We wilhstay." And the little trunk was carried up the roval stairs, while the couple followed fol-lowed arm in arm. I could not help noticing no-ticing how their very walk betrayed their happiness. Still wearing the same expression of benevolence, the portier said to me: "Wedding trip." When I looked at the register a little later I saw that he was a teacher and she his wife. . I was still sitting in the reception hall when the couple came down. She had thrown a cape around her shoulders, a cheap little cape such as a Ehopglrl might wear going to work. It was still raining. They stood In the open door. ' Then she said, nestling closer to him: "Let Ma go. anyway. We really must see Hamlet's grave at least, and really it does not matter at all that it rains." And they went, close together, under one umbrella, through the rain, to Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark's, grave. The portier looked after them. ' "Why should one embarrass them by telling them that they might have . a .carriage?" I also went out Into the rain another way to the pile of stones called Hamlet's Ham-let's grave. The couple were already there. They stood under their umbrella looking at the wet stones. . "How beautiful it is." she said. And thy remained standing there long, while the rain poured down mercilessly, mer-cilessly, looking at the stones and : thinking of the story of love which Shakespeare tells. I went home, but all day long I taw, - whenever I raised my head from my work and looked through the window, the two walking in the rain through the walks of the old park. And every time |