Joshua Benas, Geheimrat, arose from his seat at his desk. His smug
countenance wore a smile of satisfaction, as he gazed thoughtfully into
vacancy, and stroked the close-trimmed beard, already touched with grey.
"Very good," he muttered, with a complacent smile, "first-rate. Elkish
has put the matter well. _A la bonheur!_ We will declare fourteen per
cent dividend; if we strain a point, perhaps fourteen and a half--and
enough for a surplus. Great! Splendid!... What a figure we shall cut! No
small affair! The gentlemen will be astonished. But after all that is
what they're used to; Joshua Benas doesn't fall short of what people
expect of him."
He pressed the electric button.
"Tell Mr. Elkish to come up when he leaves the office," he said to the
servant who had entered quietly; then he glanced at the clock standing
on his desk, a Mercury of light-colored Barbedienne bronze.
"Five o'clock already! Tell Elkish to be here by half-past five."
The servant bowed; as he was leaving the room, his master called after
him:
"Is my son at home?"
"No, Herr Geheimrat."
"And my daughter?"
"She and Mlle. Tallieu drove to Professor Jedlitzka's for her music
lesson."
"Hm! Very well! Be sure to give my message to Mr. Elkish, Francis."
At this moment an elderly lady of distinguished appearance entered the
room.
"Do I disturb you, Joe?"
He dismissed the servant with a nod.
"No, Fanny, if a half-hour will suffice; in half an hour I expect
Elkish. At half-past five, Francis."
The servant withdrew as quietly as he had entered, and husband and wife
were left alone.
With the eye of the careful housewife she glanced about the room. The
luxury of her surroundings had not diminished the traditional concern
for minute details of housekeeping. From her mother she had acquired her
loving devotion to the affairs of the house. She guarded its growing
prosperity, and with a keen eye, as well as a careful hand, she
treasured the beautiful and choice possessions with which a fondness for
collecting and a feeling for art had enriched her home. Her large corps
of servants was capable and well-trained; yet Mrs. Benas would delegate
to none the supervision of her household and the inspection of its
details.
Her appearance did not betray her habits. She was forty-nine years old;
her dark hair, with a touch of grey, was becomingly arranged over a
rather high forehead. Her generous mouth, showing well-preserved teeth,
and her full double chin gave her countenance a look of energy, softened
by the mild and intelligent expression of her eyes. The slight curve of
her nose was sufficient to impart to her countenance the unmistakable
stamp of her race. But it did not detract from the air of distinction
that characterized Frau Geheimrat Benas.
The rapid survey satisfied her that everything was in the best of order
in the luxuriously equipped workroom of her husband. Not a particle of
dust rested upon the costly bronzes, standing about on desk and mantel,
on tables and stands, with designed carelessness. Not too obtrusively,
and yet effectively, they revealed the Geheimrat as a patron of the
arts, able to surround himself with the choicest works of the most
distinguished artists.
Glorious old Flemish tapestries hung above the sofa, forming the
background for book-cases filled with the classics of all literatures,
and for various _objets d'art_, which a discerning taste had collected.
Mrs. Benas's glance rested with particular tenderness upon a few antique
pieces of silver, which seemed a curious anachronism in a room furnished
in its up-to-date style. They were heirlooms from her parents' home in
Rogasen, where her father, Samuel Friedheim--Reb Salme Friedheim as he
was called--had been held in high regard. There was the _Kiddush_ cup,
the _Besomim_ box, the _Menorah_, and the large silver _Seder_ platter,
used by her father; and there were the silver candelabra, the lights of
which her mother had "blessed". Her father had been a thrifty dealer in
wools, not too greatly blessed with worldly goods; a great Talmudic
scholar he had been, however, worthy to marry the great-granddaughter of
the celebrated Rabbi Akiba Friedlaender, under whom he had studied.
Mrs. Benas's demeanor unconsciously reflected the dignity of such
ancestry. She took it as a matter of course that her lot in life should
have been cast in the high financial circles, the sphere which gives
importance and position to the modern Jew. The son-in-law of Reb Salme
Friedheim could not be other than a Geheimrat, unless, continuing the
traditions, he had been a student of the Talmud. But, after all,
nowadays a Geheimrat is to be preferred to a Jewish scholar or to a
modern rabbi; and with pride becoming to her and no offense to her
husband she gloried in the aristocracy of her family, without
overlooking the advantages her husband's wealth had brought.
The home of her husband had also been in the province of Posen; and it
was the respect in which her father had been held throughout the
province that had attracted his father, Isidor Benas of Lissa, to the
match. Although the dowry was smaller than Benas senior thought he was
entitled to demand for his son, the rank of her family weighed so
heavily in the balance that Joshua was allowed to court Fanny and win
her as his life companion.
His father died shortly after the marriage. Joshua moved the banking and
grain business, in which he had been a partner, to Berlin. Here the
business prospered to such an extent that the firm of Joshua Benas was
soon reckoned among the most influential of the rapidly developing
capital. Indeed, it headed all financial and industrial undertakings.
Joshua Benas, prominent in the establishment of a large bank, member of
the boards of the principal industrial corporations, was appointed
Kommerzienrat at the end of the "seventies", and a few years later, in
recognition of special services to the Government in the supply of arms,
he was made Geheimrat. At the time there were rumors of a high order,
which were never made true; and Mrs. Benas gave up the hope she had
probably cherished in secret, for the growth of anti-Semitism set a
short limit to the honors conferred on Jews, and rendered the dignity
of a Geheimer Kommerzienrat the highest to which they dared aspire.
"Credit to whom credit is due," a distinguished professor had
equivocally remarked in her drawing-room some years before, in reference
to the appointment of a banker distinguished for nothing but his wealth
as Geheimer Kommerzienrat. The words ever echoed in her ears. Since then
the lesson to remain modestly in the background and be content with the
achievements of better times had been well learned. In the meantime,
Benas's income had continued to increase; his home grew in splendor and
artistic attractiveness, and while his wife watched over the comfort of
her establishment and the carefully planned education of the children,
she kept pride of ancestry alive in the secret recesses of her soul. The
more she felt herself cut off from intercourse with those of her own
station in life--the social circle of the elect--the more she cherished
the consciousness of her noble descent. The feeling that had been sacred
merely as a tradition in the years of social advance, developed in the
present days of social isolation--half voluntary and half enforced--into
something more intimate and personal. She spoke but seldom of this; all
the deeper and keener was the hurt to her pride.
To-day, however, these questions had presented themselves with more
insistence than usually. She had received a letter that had led her to
seek her husband at this unwonted hour.
As she entered the room a nervous tension was apparent in her features,
and, turning to him hastily, after the servant left, she said: "I must
speak with you, Joshua, about a matter of great importance."
"Goodness! What's the matter, Fanny? At such an unusual time, and so
excited. I hope nothing has occurred. Is it a letter from your sister
or...."
During this rapid-fire interrogation she had approached the desk and
sunk into an arm-chair.
"Please, Benas, not so many questions at once. I came here to tell you
all about it, and I myself hardly know whether this letter is pleasant
or unpleasant. It's not from my sister, in fact, from somebody very
different."
"Well, from whom? You make me curious. How should I guess from whom?"
"I shall tell you immediately, but please sit down quietly next to me;
for we must decide upon the answer."