Frederick was outraged.  He felt like taking his hat and running away.  In his present mood, he could scarcely conceive why he had come to meet these people.  To turn the conversation and give vent to his spite and ill humour, and also for a nobler reason, he suddenly began to speak of the maid, Rosa, denouncing the American newspapers for having said almost nothing of the heroic girl.

“It would be of far more importance to me to do something for her than for any other woman.  I’m not a man to bargain and haggle; but if a collection was made and they did not collect for Rosa, then they neglected a true heroine of the Roland.”

“What do you mean by that?  What do you mean?” Fleischmann demanded somewhat rudely, afraid of losing his booty.

Here Bulke intervened.

“Remember, Mr. Fleischmann, Rosa was the first to see you.  If Rosa hadn’t dragged you out of the water—­she’s as strong as a bear—­the rest of us in the boat might merely have struck you over the head with our oars and let you sink.”

“You’re talking nonsense, you numskull,” said Fleischmann, withdrawing and turning toward the wall with the pictures.  “I keep seeing nothing but those two moonstruck oxen.”  He referred to one of the wonderful Daubignys.

Frederick paid and took leave, declining, as politely as he could, their proposition that they all lunch together.

XIII

When alone on the street, Frederick felt some disgust with himself for lacking humour.  Were those innocent men to blame if he happened to have rasped nerves?  Since it was Frederick’s way, as soon as he perceived that he had done a wrong, to set resolutely to work to undo it to the full extent of his ability, he decided, after coming to the conclusion that the fault had been his, to lunch with his shipmates after all.  He had been walking about eight minutes.  He now turned back, accelerating his pace, and within five minutes the sign of the Hoffman House was again in sight.  Broadway as usual was crowded, and the two endless chains of yellow cable cars with short spaces between were perpetually moving by each other.  It was cold and windy.  There was a great din and bustle on the streets, and into the din and bustle Frederick saw his friends of the Roland and the Hamburg step from the bar.  As he was about to wave to them, he slipped and stumbled on a piece of fruit on the pavement.

“Don’t fall, Doctor von Kammacher!” a woman’s voice cried.  “How do you do?” On regaining his equilibrium Frederick found himself face to face with a beautiful, dignified young lady hidden behind a veil and wearing a fur hat and coat.  He slowly recognised Miss Eva Burns.  “I’m in luck,” she said.  “I very rarely come to this part of the city.  It just so happened that I had to buy something near here, and I am on the way now to my restaurant.  I always take my meals in a restaurant, because I loathe boarding-houses.  By chance, too, I am later than usual.  A little lady whom you know, Miss Hahlstroem, visited the studio with Mr. Franck and kept me three quarters of an hour longer than I am accustomed to stay.”