remain here for the night, but anyhow there are plenty of hotels in Schandau; the town contains hardly anything else."
This practical remark quieted him down.
"Luckily there is an early train to-morrow. But perhaps you will be missed," Hertz said to Minna.
"Oh, I shall be back before anybody is up," she replied.
We walked up and down for a few minutes, and then Hertz took me aside.
"Tell me, dear Mr. Fenger, you came on this expedition so unprepared, and besides you did not think of staying the night here—I mean have you, by accident, not enough money with you?"
I hastily reassured him, as I, really "by accident," had more than sufficient with me.
The old man looked at me in astonishment and hesitatingly put his purse, which he had already taken out, back into his enormous deep pocket, while he moved his lower lip as if he was going to speak.
"The ladies and gentlemen will be obliged to stay overnight," shouted the mate of the steamboat; "there are no more trains northwards."
"No, but we are going southwards. We are bound for Prague."
"But you were asking for the Dresden train."
Hertz began to explain the situation.
A steam whistle sounded on the other side of the river, and like a shining centipede the train glided past hissing and squeaking. It was the one that was to have taken us back to Rathen. I stood alone next to Minna and, as I thought nobody noticed us, I gave way to my gaiety and made a face at the passing train. Minna burst out laughing, and a rather coarse bass, a little to the side of us,
