CHEAP SUMMER-RESORTS
On a glorious June day Leo Strakosch, _alias_ Dufresne, went to the
City Park, to gather further impressions of the new Vienna. As a rule
he seldom left the Nineteenth District, where he was always either
working in his studio or taking long walks in the Wienerwald with
Lotte. Now, strolling about among the crowded tables of the inn, he
felt so amused that he laughed aloud.
“For heaven’s sake--what has become of my beautiful, elegant Vienna!”
There seemed to be a general craze for Alpine costume and tourist
dress; as far as he could see there were men, old and young, in rough
wool coats, knickerbockers, and green Alpine hats. And the women!
Most of them wore peasant costume, which, while it might have been
very charming and graceful in the open country, here looked like a
caricature or a bad joke. People had become very unassuming; besides,
now they were all one big family, and there were no strangers around
for whom it might be necessary to “dress up.”
Occasionally one did see elegantly dressed men and women; but they were
so few as to be conspicuous, and sneering remarks about them issued
from the Alpine tables. Strakosch felt highly uncomfortable whenever he
noticed a “peasant girl” staring at him through her lorgnette--probably
only because his dark blue suit, patent leather shoes, and costly silk
tie attracted attention.
An electric tramway line, municipal music, and peasant girls who wore
lorgnettes--Leo pinched himself. He hurried out of the Park into the
Ringstrasse, where the cafés presented a sorry sight; he grinned as he
noted that people were greeting one another with “Hail!”; and he had to
search for quite some time before he found a taxicab. For even these
public vehicles had become a luxury indulged in by so few that most of
the drivers had given up their business.
Late in the afternoon, around sunset, he met Lotte at the edge of the
Kobenzlwald, as they had arranged. They settled down on a bench, and,
after a prologue of kisses, Lotte told him that her parents had decided
to move to their little villa on the Wolfgangsee the next week.
“What’ll become of us now?” she wailed. “How can I bear not to see you
all summer?”
“Nothing of the sort is expected of you, darling. I’ll take a vacation,
too; when you’re in St. Gilgen I’ll be in Wolfgang, and you’ll come
over every day so that we’ll be together at least an hour.”
“M-m-m,” Lotte replied happily, “that’s something like! But now I’ll
have to tell you about the argument Papa and I had yesterday. Just
think, suddenly Papa looked me straight in the eye and said very
seriously: ‘What have you been doing all by yourself lately, for hours
at a time? You know we give you as much freedom as possible--but
there’s a limit!’
“I felt myself getting red as a beet and thought the best thing would
be for me to confess.”
“What!” interrupted Leo, horrified. “You told your father?”
“Let me finish, silly,” laughed Lotte, pinching his ear. “I confessed,
but only what I wanted. I told Papa that I had met a very splendid
young man at Erna’s house, that I like him as well as he likes me, and
that I often meet him for walks. He’s a Frenchman, I said, by the name
of Henry Dufresne, and he’s putting through some big business deals
here.
“At first Papa was absolutely speechless, then he asked why I don’t
invite this Frenchman to the house. Whereupon I answered that I’m not
entirely sure of my feelings, and therefore don’t want to make the
matter seem official. And finally I cried, quite indignantly:
“‘You know you can trust me, Papa! You can be sure I won’t do anything
wrong, and Henry will come to you as soon as I think it necessary and
proper. But now let me go my own way!’
“After this Papa was very kind and nice to me, and so was Mama. But
later I heard Papa telling Mama: ‘I’d never have believed that Lotte
would forget poor Leo so quickly and thoroughly. Still, I’m very glad
she’s found a new object for her affections, and we won’t put any
obstacle in her way.’
“And Mama, who is so fond of you, shook her head and said: ‘I don’t
understand that girl at all! Her cheeks have actually become pink
again, and she sings all day as if she had never had a heartache.’
“You know, Leo, it surely isn’t nice of us to fool my parents this
way--but I’m so happy that you’re here in Vienna!”
Leo pulled Lotte toward him, gave her a long kiss, and then said with
an important air:
“Now we’ll go to the country, and when I come back I’ll fool the whole
town and I’ll do it properly, too! I can’t tell you any more today--but
you’ll see some marvelous doings.”
This was the second summer to console the Viennese for the great
inconvenience and bitter disappointments they had suffered. In former
years the most beautiful towns and resorts of diminished Austria had
become the playground of the Jews. All of the beautiful Salzkammer
region, the Semmering district, and even the more modernized sections
of the Tyrol, had been flooded with Austrian, Czechoslovakian, and
Hungarian Jews; the appearance of anyone who might be suspected
of being a Gentile would actually create a sensation in Ischl,
Gmunden, Wolfgang, Gilgen, Strobel, Aussee, or on the Attersee.
Not without justification the Christians--partly because of lesser
wealth, and partly because of greater conservatism in the matter
of money-spending--felt that they were being pushed aside, and
had to content themselves with the less expensive, but also much
less beautiful resorts of Lower Austria and Steiermark, or with
out-of-the-way Tyrolese villages. Since the expulsion of the Jews
all this had changed. The most beautiful summer-resorts were crowded
no longer, inquiries from city dwellers received immediate and very
courteous replies, and in spite of the otherwise increased cost of
living the rents of rooms or summer homes were considerably lower than
two years before. And therefore all who had the time and the money
flocked to the places that had formerly disgusted the genuine Viennese.
The owners of the great hotels, health resorts, and so-called
sanatoria, however, were not so well pleased. They had always lived off
international Jewry--their entire business depended on people who do
not calculate cost when their comfort is at stake; and now, as it was
impossible for them to be cheap, they could not find enough patrons.
The great Semmering hotels did not open at all, and many hostelries of
the Salzkammer region and the Tyrol were forced to close and dismiss
their employes in the middle of the season. This was gall in their
cup of joy, and caused ill will among the country people, who were
accustomed to sell their products to the great hotels at enormous
prices, and to let their sons and daughters make goodly sums of money
as valets and chambermaids during the summer.
The mayor of Semmering had the courage to say openly, at a meeting of
the Town Council:
“Together with the Jews we drove prosperity out of the country. If
this lasts a few years longer we may be good Christians, but we’ll be
as poor as church mice!”