The Fortune Hunter | Page 7

Schwartz.
Heilig was wretched,--another of those hideous dilemmas over which
he had been stumbling like a drunken man in a dark room full of
furniture ever since he let his mother go to Mrs. Brauner and ask her for
Hilda. He watched Hilda's splendid back, and fumbled about, upsetting
bottles and rattling dishes, until she went out with a glance of jeering
scorn. Schwartz burst out laughing.
``Anybody could tell you are in love,'' he said. ``Be stiff with her, Otto,
and you'll get her all right. It don't do to let a woman see that you care
about her. The worse you treat the women the better they like it. When
they used to tell my father about some woman being crazy over a man,
he always used to say, `What sort of a scoundrel is he?' That was good
sense.''
Otto made no reply. No doubt these maxims were sound and wise; but
how was he to apply them? How could he pretend indifference when at
sight of her he could open his jaws only enough to chatter them, could
loosen his tongue only enough to roll it thickly about? ``I can work,'' he
said to himself, ``and I can pay my debts and have something over; but
when it comes to love I'm no good.''

II
BRASS OUTSHINES GOLD
Hilda returned to her father's shop and was busy there until nine o'clock.
Then Sophie Liebers came and they went into the Avenue for a walk.
They pushed their way through and with the throngs up into Tompkins
Square--the center of one of the several vast districts, little known
because little written about, that contain the real New York and the real
New Yorkers. In the Square several thousand young people were
promenading, many of the girls walking in pairs, almost all the young
men paired off, each with a young woman. It was warm, and the stars
beamed down upon the hearts of young lovers, blotting out for them
electric lights and surrounding crowds. It caused no comment there for
a young couple to walk hand in hand, looking each at the other with the

expression that makes commonplace eyes wonderful. And when the
sound of a kiss came from a somewhat secluded bench, the only
glances east in the direction whence it had come were glances of
approval or envy.
``There's Otto Heilig dogging us,'' said Hilda to Sophie, as they walked
up and down. ``Do you wonder I hate him?'' They talked in American,
as did all the young people, except with those of their elders who could
speak only German.
Sophie was silent. If Hilda had been noting her face she would have
seen a look of satisfaction.
``I can't bear him,'' went on Hilda. ``No girl could. He's so stupid
and--and common!'' Never before had she used that last word in such a
sense. Mr. Feuerstein had begun to educate her.
Sophie's unobserved look changed to resentment. ``Of course he's not
equal to Mr. Feuerstein,'' she said. ``But he's a very nice fellow--at least
for an ordinary girl.'' Sophie's father was an upholsterer, and not a good
one. He owned no tenements-- was barely able to pay the rent for a
small corner of one. Thus her sole dower was her pretty face and her
cunning. She had an industrious, scheming, not overscrupulous brain
and--her hopes and plans. Nor had she time to waste. For she was
nearer twenty-three than twenty-two, at the outer edge of the
marriageable age of Avenue A, which believes in an early start at what
it regards as the main business of life--the family.
``You surely couldn't marry such a man as Otto!'' said Hilda absently.
Her eyes were searching the crowd, near and far.
Sophie laughed. ``Beggars can't be choosers,'' she answered. ``I think
he's all right--as men go. It wouldn't do for me to expect too much.''
Just then Hilda caught sight of Mr. Feuerstein--the godlike head, the
glorious hair, the graceful hat. Her manner changed--her eyes
brightened, her cheeks reddened, and she talked fast and laughed a
great deal. As they passed near him she laughed loudly and called out
to Sophie as if she were not at her elbow--she feared he would not see.
Mr. Feuerstein turned his picturesque head, slowly lifted his hat and
joined them. At once Hilda became silent, listening with rapt attention
to the commonplaces he delivered in sonorous, oracular tones.
As he deigned to talk only to Hilda, who was walking between Sophie
and him, Sophie was free to gaze round. She spied Otto Heilig

drooping dejectedly along. She adroitly steered her party so that it
crossed his path. He looked up to find himself staring at Hilda. She
frowned at this disagreeable apparition into her happiness, and
quickened her