Walter paid no more attention to the punches and blows he received. He was only concerned to give as many blows as were necessary to hasten his arrival at the restaurant. The place was about as badly crowded as the street, but there was no fighting going on.
Yes, Walter had made a good beginning: yesterday in the "Polish Coffeehouse," to-day in the "Juniper Berry"--thrown in there, fighting his way in here.
He was in the restaurant at last, looking for Femke. Now he thought that he had discovered her, standing on a step, or something of the kind. With lips tightly closed, her arms crossed, the girl was looking quietly down on the multitude as if in silent contempt. The rim was torn from her cap and was hanging down. Walter thought that he even saw blood on her face--Femke's dear face!
He was exhausted and could not reach her. He looked at her. She did not see him.
She stood there proud and haughty. He called to her. She did not hear.
"O God! she despises me. I deserve it for my cowardice at Holsma's."
"Boy," said the woman behind the bar, "we don't have any bellowing here. If you want to bellow go to your mother."
Easier said than done. He couldn't move a peg, such was the press. He was shoved against the counter; and it was impossible for him to keep sight of Femke. The tears began to roll down his cheeks.
"What are you doing in such a crowd anyway?" continued the woman, "when you're so weak. You look as flimsy as a dish-rag. What have you been doing? Let me give you a glass of cognac."
He would have been only too glad to pay for his place; but, as he "received at home everything that he needed," he did not have the wherewithal. Still, there was no danger of his being thrown out. The crowd, which was threatening to expend its remaining energy in destroying the liquids of the place, was now occupying the barmaid's attention. I should say Mrs. Goremest's attention. She was the proprietress.
The girl continued to hold her position of advantage. There was something scornful in her features. "Who dares!" she seemed to say.
Walter was feeling bad. She looked over in his direction, but without seeing him. He called; but she did not hear.
Then the fellow with the flashy cap and sailor jacket appeared in the door. He had not been one of the belligerents; but he had suffered the fate of neutral powers. As his clothing testified, both parties had been his enemies.