Villa Rubein, and other stories eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 374 pages of information about Villa Rubein, and other stories.

Villa Rubein, and other stories eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 374 pages of information about Villa Rubein, and other stories.

Harz bowed.

“Father said all strangers should, and I think it brings good luck.”  From the doorstep she looked round at Harz, then ran into the house.

A broad, thick-set man, with stiff, brushed-up hair, a short, brown, bushy beard parted at the chin, a fresh complexion, and blue glasses across a thick nose, came out, and called in a bluff voice: 

“Ha! my good dears, kiss me quick—­prrt!  How goes it then this morning?  A good walk, hein?” The sound of many loud rapid kisses followed.

“Ha, Fraulein, good!” He became aware of Harz’s figure standing in the doorway:  “Und der Herr?”

Miss Naylor hurriedly explained.

“Good!  An artist!  Kommen Sie herein, I am delight.  You will breakfast?  I too—­yes, yes, my dears—­I too breakfast with you this morning.  I have the hunter’s appetite.”

Harz, looking at him keenly, perceived him to be of middle height and age, stout, dressed in a loose holland jacket, a very white, starched shirt, and blue silk sash; that he looked particularly clean, had an air of belonging to Society, and exhaled a really fine aroma of excellent cigars and the best hairdresser’s essences.

The room they entered was long and rather bare; there was a huge map on the wall, and below it a pair of globes on crooked supports, resembling two inflated frogs erect on their hind legs.  In one corner was a cottage piano, close to a writing-table heaped with books and papers; this nook, sacred to Christian, was foreign to the rest of the room, which was arranged with supernatural neatness.  A table was laid for breakfast, and the sun-warmed air came in through French windows.

The meal went merrily; Herr Paul von Morawitz was never in such spirits as at table.  Words streamed from him.  Conversing with Harz, he talked of Art as who should say:  “One does not claim to be a connoisseur—­pas si bete—­still, one has a little knowledge, que diable!” He recommended him a man in the town who sold cigars that were “not so very bad.”  He consumed porridge, ate an omelette; and bending across to Greta gave her a sounding kiss, muttering:  “Kiss me quick!”—­an expression he had picked up in a London music-hall, long ago, and considered chic.  He asked his daughters’ plans, and held out porridge to the terrier, who refused it with a sniff.

“Well,” he said suddenly, looking at Miss Naylor, “here is a gentleman who has not even heard our names!”

The little lady began her introductions in a breathless voice.

“Good!” Herr Paul said, puffing out his lips:  “Now we know each other!” and, brushing up the ends of his moustaches, he carried off Harz into another room, decorated with pipe-racks, prints of dancing-girls, spittoons, easy-chairs well-seasoned by cigar smoke, French novels, and newspapers.

The household at Villa Rubein was indeed of a mixed and curious nature.  Cut on both floors by corridors, the Villa was divided into four divisions; each of which had its separate inhabitants, an arrangement which had come about in the following way: 

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Villa Rubein, and other stories from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.