The Fortune Hunter | Page 8

step. But Sophie, without letting go of Hilda's hand,
paused and spoke to Otto. Thus Hilda was forced to stop and to say
ungraciously: ``Mr. Feuerstein, Mr. Heilig.''
Then she and Mr. Feuerstein went on, and Sophie drew the reluctant
Otto in behind them. She gradually slackened her pace, so that she and
Heilig dropped back until several couples separated them from Hilda
and Mr. Feuerstein. A few minutes and Hilda and Mr. Feuerstein were
seated on a bench in the deep shadow of a tree, Sophie and Heilig
walking slowly to and fro a short distance away.
Heilig was miserable with despondent jealousy. He longed to inquire
about this remarkable-looking new friend of Hilda's. For Mr. Feuerstein
seemed to be of that class of strangers whom Avenue A condemns on
their very appearance. It associates respectability with work only, and it
therefore suspects those who look as if they did not work and did not
know how. Sophie was soon answering of her own accord the questions
Heilig as a gentleman could not ask. ``You must have heard of Mr.
Feuerstein? He's an actor-- at the German Theater. I don't think he's
much of an actor--he's one of the kind that do all their acting off the
stage.''
Heilig laughed unnaturally. He did not feel like laughing, but wished to
show his gratitude to Sophie for this shrewd blow at his enemy. ``He's
rigged out like a lunatic, isn't he?'' Otto was thinking of the long hair,
the low-rolling shirt collar and the velvet collar on his coat,--light gray,
to match his hat and suit.
``I don't see what Hilda finds in him,'' continued Sophie. ``It makes me
laugh to look at him; and when he talks I can hardly keep from
screaming in his face. But Hilda's crazy over him, as you see. He tells
all sorts of romances about himself, and she believes every word. I
think she'll marry him--you know, her father lets her do as she pleases.
Isn't it funny that a sensible girl like Hilda can be so foolish?''
Heilig did not answer this, nor did he heed the talk on love and
marriage which the over-eager Sophie proceeded to give. And it was
talk worth listening to, as it presented love and marriage in the
interesting, romantic-sensible Avenue A light. Otto was staring

gloomily at the shadow of the tree. He would have been gloomier could
he have witnessed the scene to which the unmoral old elm was lending
its impartial shade.
Mr. Feuerstein was holding Hilda's hand while he looked soulfully
down into her eyes. She was returning his gaze, her eyes expressing all
the Schwarmerei of which their dark depths were capable at nineteen.
He was telling her what a high profession the actor's was, how great he
was as an actor, how commonplace her life there, how beautiful he
could make it if only he had money. It was an experience to hear Mr.
Feuerstein say the word ``money.'' Elocution could go no further in
surcharging five letters with contempt. His was one of those lofty
natures that scorn all such matters of intimate concern to the humble,
hard-pressed little human animal as food, clothing and shelter. He so
loathed money that he would not deign to work for it, and as rapidly as
possible got rid of any that came into his possession.
``Yes, my adorable little princess,'' he rolled out, in the tones which
wove a spell over Hilda. ``I adore you. How strange that I should have
wandered into THIS region for my soul's bride--and should have found
her!''
Hilda pressed his clasping hand and her heart fluttered. But she was as
silent and shy as Heilig with her. What words had she fit to express
response to these exalted emotions? ``I--I feel it,'' she said timidly.
``But I can't say it to you. You must think me very foolish.''
``No--you need not speak. I know what you would say. Our hearts
speak each to the other without words, my beautiful jewel. And what
do you think your parents will say?''
``I--I don't know,'' stammered Hilda.
``They are so set on my marrying''--she glanced toward Otto--how
ordinary he looked!--``marrying another--a merchant like my father.
They think only of what is practical. I'm so afraid they won't
understand--US.''
Feuerstein sighed--the darkness prevented her from seeing that he was
also frowning with impatience and irritation.
``But it must be settled at once, my heart's bride,'' he said gently.
``Secrecy, deception are horrible to me. And I am mad to claim you as
my own. I could not take you without their consent--that would be
unworthy. No, I could not grieve their honest hearts!''

Hilda was much disturbed. She was eminently practical herself, aside
from her fondness for romance, which Mr. Feuerstein