arranged for whist. Can you remember, Mr. Stephensen, how often we amused ourselves in that way when you lodged here, and my good husband still lived?… Oh dear me, yes, those were happy times, such a family party, h'm, so to speak,… true, I was always being sat upon by my partner."
"Not by me, I hope," Stephensen said with his most amiable smile.
"Oh dear no, Mr. Stephensen! You, who always are so considerate and tactful! But my good husband was often nasty; he also got angry when he had no luck. Indeed, upon my word, he did … oh dear! Poor Jagemann could not endure misfortune."
"He was a good player, I remember."
"Good indeed, I should think so; he really was good at everything he undertook, was poor Jagemann.… But it's just the same in cards as in other things, what can one do with bad cards?"
Or with a bad partner, I thought.
"Oh dear me, yes, my good husband surely might have been something more than a poor teacher in a public school, but what are we to do? Bad people, Mr. Stephensen! Oh yes, and then fate, as you know—misfortune."
Stephensen tried to look sympathetic. I had not taken my eyes away from Minna. She still sat at the piano, but was half-turned towards us. It was evident that this talk irritated her; the smile round her lips grew more and more mocking, and every now and then she shrugged her shoulders.
"I think it is a good likeness you have caught in your picture there of Jagemann," I remarked to Stephensen.
"Oh yes, something of the old 'Tartar' has got into it, though he could look more amiable."
