Immediately after the entrance of the guest, a young man stepped through
the half-open door of the adjoining billiard room.
"My son Hugo," the Geheimrat introduced him. "Referendar at the court
of appeals."
"I must again beg your pardon, Mrs. Benas, that I pay my respects to you
so late in the evening. But I have something very much at heart, and I
did not wish to lose several days only in order to come at a more
seasonable hour."
"Let me assure you, in our house the word family affair is a pass-word
that overrides conventions, however strictly enforced. In this regard we
have carried the traditions of our home into the larger world. The word
family always bears a special appeal to us."
He understood quite well that she wished to intimate her appreciation of
the obligations demanded by social considerations, which, however, the
special circumstances permitted her to waive. With a bow he seated
himself near the tea-table, at which the others resumed their places
also.
"I am indebted to you for your indulgence. My office hours come at the
customary visiting time; and it may have happened that I could not have
spoken to you undisturbed, so I took the liberty to claim this
privilege."
"Not at all."
In the meantime Rita had prepared the tea, and offered him a cup.
"Thank you."
"Do you prefer a cigar or a cigarette?"
"Is smoking permitted?" he asked of the ladies.
"During the tea hour my wife allows smoking."
"Then may I ask for a cigarette?"
"Hugo, there are the Russian----"
Hesitating, as if overcoming some inner aversion, the young man arose
and brought forward a small smoking table with boxes of cigars and
cigarettes and smoking appurtenances. Dr. Weilen, with the eye of a
connoisseur, noted the wonderful Oriental enamel work in the table. Hugo
offered him the cigarettes and a burning wax-taper.
"Thank you, Herr Kollege."
A deep pallor overspread Hugo's face as he bowed silently, while his
father said with a smile: "To such dignity we have not yet attained."
"Your son is a lawyer as I am," he graciously said. "I occupied the same
position as he does before I was made Regierungsrat. Such is the order
of advance. Every one must make a beginning; isn't that so, Herr
Kollege? In which department is your work now?"
"In the Exchequer. This is the last year of my preparatory service."
"He has obtained his doctorate, and has served his year with the
Dragoons of the Guard," explained his father.
"Then the greatest tasks are over. Would you not enjoy entering the
service of the Government?"
"No, sir," he answered in a firm voice. "As a Jew I should have no
chances there." The words conveyed an unmistakable insinuation. The
sullen fire in his eyes reminded the Kommerzienrat of the appearance of
his clerk when he had spoken to him of Dr. Weilen.
The latter appeared not to have heard Hugo's remark, and Mrs. Benas
turned to him with some polite phrase, while Rita asked him to allow her
to pare some fruit for him.
A harsh, ironic expression lay upon Hugo's face. The moment was ominous,
but Dr. Weilen rose to the occasion and said:
"May I tell you now what prompted me to ask for the pleasure of a visit
here?"
Mr. and Mrs. Benas looked at him expectantly, and Rita's eyes were
fastened upon him with evident interest, while Hugo stared into vacancy,
a sombre expression on his face.
"In a few months our uncle, Mr. Leopold Friedlaender, will celebrate his
ninetieth birthday, on the day before Easter. A short while ago chance
threw a Jewish weekly into my hands, in which mention was made of the
unusual occasion, and of the significance of Leopold Friedlaender's
career for Rawitsch. It was not news to me; for at my home mention was
often made of my mother's oldest brother, and as a boy I accompanied her
once on a visit to him, in order to become acquainted with him. It was
shortly after my confirmation,--I mean my--my Bar-Mitzvah. Such
childhood recollections remain with one. My mother wished me to recite
for him the chapter of the Torah to which I had been 'called up.' This I
did, and the impression the moment made must have been very deep, it has
remained with me through all the various experiences of my life."
"To be sure," Mrs. Benas felt bound to say, in order to hide the
embarrassment which had come upon them. "One never entirely loses the
recollections of one's childhood."
"Why should one? They do not represent our worst side. There are
occasions in life when they are forced into the background by weightier,
more insistent experiences, but they return most vividly in our maturer
years at such times when we search our consciences in a confessional
mood. When the restlessness of youth subsides, when the struggle for
existence is no longer strenuous, when the goal is attained, then it is
that the reminiscences of childhood reappear in full vigor. Such
reminiscences do not fade, nor become blurred with time."
Rita had regarded him throughout with fixed attention.
"It would be desirable for the shaping of one's career, if such
impressions were at all times kept vividly in mind," Hugo said
pointedly.
"That is not altogether true," he responded with a smile. "It would
interfere with one's development if such influences were ever present.
To live amply means to hold control over oneself, and one's personality
can be realized and enjoyed only when we have understood and tasted of
life in its fulness. Not alone from a one-sided, narrow standpoint, but
from the broadest point of view, from the general, the impersonal. Only
then can that which is most individual in us develop freely and reach
full consciousness."
He relit his cigarette which he had allowed to go out. "But we are
wandering off into philosophic byways," he said lightly. "Such is always
the case when youth offers us the wisdom of age. You will forgive me,
Herr Kollege. It is a challenge to prove one's life not devoid of
experiences."
Rita thought her brother had deserved this courteously delivered
reproof. What could he have been thinking of when he allowed his
unpleasant mood to get the better of him? And toward a guest!
"During these last few days I have begun to realize, with surprise and
yet with pleasure, how strongly my past took hold of me. I happen to
take up a periodical; my eyes chance to light upon a name, whose sound,
long forgotten, re-awakens old memories. In a flash, the old times live
within me again. I am deeply impressed--the sensation grows upon me ever
more vividly, and at last seeks expression. That brings me to you."
"But how did you happen to come upon this journal?" asked Mr. Benas,
merely for the sake of keeping up the conversation.
"At present my interests take me to the department of press and
publicity," he rejoined with a smile, "and one finds everything there.
That was the way I came upon the notice of the ninetieth birthday of
Leopold Friedlaender--my--our uncle. The fine old man has attained the
age of a veritable patriarch."
"Yes, Uncle Leopold is well-advanced in years," Mrs. Benas added; "the
oldest of fourteen brothers and sisters, he is the only one living."
"Is he in good health, and how does he bear his advanced years? I take
it for granted you are in direct communication with him."
"Certainly, as head of the family he is highly honored by all of us. We
visit him almost every year, and my children, too, have received his
blessing. He is vigorous, mentally alert, and reads without spectacles,
so that his patriarchal age does not obtrude itself upon his visitors."
"Strangely enough, that is just as I had pictured him to myself. And
what of his direct descendants, his sons and daughters?"
"Both daughters are still living, but only one of his three sons."
"Where do they reside?"
"They all married and remained in Rawitsch. Jacob, who is almost
seventy years old, carried on his father's business, which is now in
the hands of one of his grandsons."
"So the firm is perpetuated from generation to generation. The grandson,
no doubt, has a family also?"
"Our cousin is still unmarried."
"And do all live together?"
"Uncle Leopold, since the death of his wife, about twenty years ago,
lives with his son."
"My visit to him took place five years before that, when he was still in
active business."
"When all the children were provided for, he followed the desire of his
heart, and devoted himself to the study of the Torah, a pursuit which,
as is natural in the oldest son of Rabbi Eliezer, he had always followed
with great devotion. Throughout the whole province, too, he is held in
esteem, as if he himself were a rabbi worthy to be the spiritual heir of
his famous father."
"These various stages of family life easily escape one moving in quite
different circles, but they interest me exceedingly; and I am most
grateful to you for this information. The family must have spread
greatly, to judge by the number of children our grandfather had; the
descendants must be very numerous. Did you know all the brothers and
sisters of your mother, Mrs. Benas?"
"I knew all of them, excepting an uncle who died in London, and your own
mother."
"She was the youngest of Rabbi Eliezer's children, and died quite young.
I, her only child, had not yet reached my fifteenth year. My father
married a second time, and consequently the ties of kinship were
somewhat loosened, and later, when we moved to South Germany, all
connections were broken off. From this time on, I heard almost nothing
about my mother's family, and when I left my father's house after my
final college examinations, to attend the University of Heidelberg, I
was outside the range of all family connections. Shortly after my father
died, and as his second marriage was without issue, I was left alone.
After the year of mourning, my stepmother went to live with her brother
in Milwaukee. She married a city alderman, Dr. Sulzberger, and lives
happily there. I give these details, assuming that it might be of some
interest to you to learn of the vicissitudes of a near relative, who has
come upon you so unexpectedly, even though he is but a branch cut off
from the parent stem by peculiar circumstances."
"It is very kind of you to tell us these things, Mr. Weilen. At home,
your mother, Aunt Goldine, was often spoken of. And I also heard mention
made of the exceptional talents of her son Victor, and of the fact that
your father never approached her family after her death."
"I do not know the reasons for this, I merely know the result--an entire
estrangement from her family, and that after my father's death I stood
quite alone."
"But you might have approached the family."
"Such a step is not natural for a young man who is independent
financially--which I was, having become my father's heir--and who
believes that he has found a new family in the circle of his
fellow-students. I belonged to the most prominent Corps, and became my
own master when I came of age. My boyhood, with its recollections of my
mother and her circle, seemed a lost world, from which no echo ever
reached me. I loved my mother dearly, but at that age it is not
considered good form to give in to sentiment; and it seemed to me more
manly to suppress my grief. In regard to her family, a certain obstinacy
and pride took possession of me. Through all that period there had been
no solicitude for me on their part. Why should I force myself upon them?
I thought that I had no need of them. Presumably our views of life were
wholly opposed. After the death of my mother, my life was spent in very
different circles. I confess that even in later years when I went to
Posen to visit the grave of my mother, I never thought of calling on the
family."
Mr. Weilen's little audience followed his words with mixed feelings. Mr.
Benas was eager as to what would be the outcome of his explanations; in
Mrs. Benas' family sentiment was awakened; Rita's flushed cheeks
testified to the excitement with which she had listened; while Hugo
looked sullenly and cynically at the dignified gentleman who spoke so
frankly and straightforwardly about himself and the circumstances of his
life.
Up to this time the conversation had been carried on chiefly by Mrs.
Benas and her cousin. The others listened in silence. But now Mr. Benas
interposed.
"Such things," he said, "frequently happen in large and scattered
families. It is almost impossible to follow the career of every member.
Only those keep in touch with one another whom the peculiar
circumstances and conditions of life throw together. My wife has
numerous cousins whose names we hardly know, and then, again, there are
others with whom we are in constant and close relations. The same is
true of my own side of the family. Whoever looks us up and shows a
desire to be friendly, is welcome."
"I thank you, Mr. Benas."
"Especially in this case," he continued. "But it is utterly impossible
to keep track of every one. Think of it, Dr. Weilen, the father of Rabbi
Eliezer, your grandfather and my wife's as well, that is, your
great-grandfather, Rabbi Akiba, was married three times, and had nine
children. These in turn married, and no doubt were richly blessed with
children, and so on, according to God's commandment: 'Ye shall be
numerous as the sands of the sea;' but to pick out all these grains of
sand, to observe them, and know them according to their kind, is
impossible."
"_I_ do not think so, father," said Hugo.
"You seem to be an enthusiastic member of your family."
"I am a Jew."
Dr. Weilen's glance rested with sympathy and interest on the young man.
"But that has nothing to do with our talk, Hugo," said his mother, eager
to confine the conversation within safe limits. "Your father merely
wished to illustrate how impossible it is to be in close personal
relation with all the members of a large, ramified family like ours."
"To which I desire to add the interesting fact," Mr. Benas smilingly
said, "that hardly a day passes without the appearance of some one or
other who claims to be related to us, either in some remote way through
Rabbi Eliezer, or through his father, Rabbi Akiba. Then I always come
to the conclusion anew that all Jews are related to one another."
"That they are, father, racially; and they have kept the race pure for
thousands of years, and have made it capable of resisting the dangers
threatening it from the outside, through fire and sword, and all
persecutions and attacks. Only disintegration from within would destroy
them--if they cannot put a check upon it--or will not."
"But, Hugo, why always generalize about matters that are of purely
personal concern to us? Joe," turning to her husband, "it will surely
interest Dr. Weilen, to see to what trouble you went to establish the
numerous branchings of our family tree. For our silver wedding, two
years ago, my husband had the genealogy of Rabbi Akiba Friedlaender's
family traced."
"It was not a simple matter," said Mr. Benas, "and the artistic
execution hardly cost Professor Zeidler more trouble than the gathering
of the data. A young student, also from our home and distantly related,
worked almost two years at collecting and arranging the material."
"I should suppose so. And did he succeed in making it quite complete?"
"So far as I can judge, he did succeed. Do you care to see the drawing?"
"Very much."
Rita rose involuntarily.
"Will you show it to Dr. Weilen, my dear?"
"Certainly, mother."
Miss Rita conducted him to her mother's room through the large state
parlor, the walls of which, he noted in passing, were covered with
canvasses of distinguished artists. In her mother's room, over a small
Florentine inlaid table of the sixteenth century, hung the genealogical
chart. The room was marked by the same rich style as prevailed
elsewhere, but there was something more genial, more home-like in the
artistically furnished boudoir. Not a boudoir in the ordinary sense of
the word, but rather the apartment of a lady,--luxurious and subtly
feminine withal. A soft glow from an iridescent hanging lamp dimly
illuminated the room. Rita turned on the electric light inserted in the
bowl of an antique lamp, and a bright radiance fell on the large chart
occupying almost the entire wall space.
Both stood regarding it without speaking.
Dr. Weilen was lost in contemplation, then he adjusted his eyeglasses as
if to see better. "So that is the old pedigree! That's the way it looks!
So our tribe has grown and multiplied! How remarkable and interesting!"
He was lost in contemplation again, and drew nearer to the chart to
study it in detail. It seemed as if he had entirely forgotten Rita's
presence; and she remained perfectly quiet, so as not to disturb him.
"Curious," he said, half to himself, "who would have believed it? If I
hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would not have realized the
persistent vigor in the old stock." He turned his attention to the
right-hand side of the chart, read a few names there, and then said to
Rita: "Excuse my abstraction, but it is quite surprising. Are you
interested in the history of the family?"
"Of course, I am used to it from childhood up, and my mother has always
told me all the peculiarities and incidents of the family."
"And you know your cousins personally?"
"Quite many."
"And what is their station in life?"
"Every possible station. Look at all these branchings and ramifications.
There is hardly an occupation that does not claim one or the other.
Lawyers, physicians, tutors, merchants,--some very well placed and
others less fortunate. One cousin is an African explorer, another has
joined a North Pole expedition; and by marriage the women of the family
have entered circles as various. Among the cousins by marriage there are
architects, professors, dentists, veterinary physicians, engineers, and
manufacturers. I think it would hardly be necessary to go outside of the
family to find one of every kind, with the exception...." Here she
suddenly paused in her vivacious explanations and stared at him with
embarrassment in her large eyes.
"Well, Miss Rita, what branch is lacking on the golden tree of life?"
A vivid blush suffused her face, which appeared all the prettier to him
in its embarrassed shyness.
"I will tell you. Do you see here to the right?" and he pointed out the
place with his finger. "Here is the name Goldine, the last of the
fourteen branches issuing from Rabbi Eliezer, joined to that of Herman
Weilen--my parents; and here the broken branch, quite symbolic, do you
see?--without a name,--that refers to me."
Anxious fear took possession of her.
"Oh, Herr Regierungsrat," she stammered.
"That's just it--Regierungsrat! I have been deprived of the cousinship
on this genealogical tree. A scion without a name, disinherited!"
There was more sorrow than bitterness in his voice, and this gave her
the courage to say: "It surely happened unintentionally. Nothing was
known of you in our family, and it was taken for granted that you had
broken off connection with it. We had only heard...." Suddenly she
hesitated.
"Your reasons are significant, Miss Rita, the broken-off branch dares
not call you cousin." A peculiar smile played about his lips. "But I
should like to finish the thought you would not express. You had only
heard that I had discarded the belief of my fathers, had changed my
religion, had entered the service of the Government, had made a career
for myself, and hoped to reach a still higher goal. That's it, is it
not? A broken-off branch, but not a withered one!"
She gazed at him with large, astonished eyes into which a dreamy
expression gradually crept.
"To be sure," he continued, "I have no right to complain."
"I never heard any one speak of you in that way," she declared, trying
to regain her self-possession. "In fact you were never spoken of;" then,
trying to improve the thoughtless expression, "at least not often. I
think you are wrong in your judgment, and also in regard to the family
tree. I am sure the omission is accidental."
"You are very kind, Miss Rita, you wish to console me. It doubtless
seems cruel to you that a man in the full vigor of life, with energy and
ambition to reach yet higher rungs on the ladder of success, should be
summarily hewn from the parent stem. If I were superstitious, I should
fear for my life, for my future. Fortunately I am not, or rather I may
be superstitious in believing that side by side with the ill omen there
is a good one, in the shape of a friendly young lady; and if she will
graciously accept me as a cousin, then the sinister mark on the pedigree
will be cancelled. You surely have not forgotten the stories of the bad
and the good fairies, because it cannot be so long ago since you were
devoted to them. You remember? In compensation for the evil charms of
the one, they gave the poor victim the blessings of the other for
protection. And I should like to regard you as my good fairy."
There was something very winning, very lovable in his manner and his
words, and she answered simply: "You will not need such protection, Dr.
Weilen."
"Please, say 'cousin.'"
There was a moment of hesitation, then she said: "You will not need
such protection, cousin."
"But I may surely count upon you, should I happen to need it?"
"You certainly may."
Then they returned to the tea-table, Rita somewhat embarrassed, he in
high, good humor. "The family tree is exceedingly interesting, Mr.
Benas," he said. "You will permit me, I hope, to study it in all its
details. Even a cursory glance impressed me tremendously. At the very
root, generations back, where there are names testifying to a strong and
hardy stock, is the father of Rabbi Eliezer, Rabbi Akiba, a luminary in
Talmudic lore, a great man even in those days. Then again, among his
children, one excelled in strong individuality and great knowledge,
Rabbi Eliezer, and from him and his descendants a numerous progeny,
among whom again Leopold Friedlaender stands out conspicuous; and so the
family tree continues to spread its limbs, luxuriant in leaf and
blossom."
Rita hung on his words; she was nervous, fearing a reference to the
broken branch. But he said nothing, only fixed his glance on her
meaningly. She drew a long breath of relief.
"It was, indeed, a pleasure to me to see the work executed," Mr. Benas
remarked, "and my wife received it with great enthusiasm."
"I should suppose so."
They felt their guest was sincere in all he said, and yet they could not
rid themselves of a feeling of estrangement. He had introduced himself
to them in so peculiar a manner. This equivocal position of close
kinship and complete alienation produced a certain constraint, which
despite the polished ease and courtesy of the man of the world could not
be overcome. And all the time each one asked himself the true purpose of
his visit.
As if conscious of the unspoken question, he said: "As is natural when
members of the same family meet each other for the first time, we
quickly dropped into the discussion of common interests; and in passing
from one subject to another, I have not reached the point of telling you
what induced me to visit you."
He reflected a moment as if searching for the proper phrase.
"When I read the notice of the anniversary celebration of Leopold
Friedlaender, I was suddenly overcome with the wish to take part in it.
The wish came like a secret longing for--for my home! My boyhood came
back to me. I saw my uncle before me as I had seen him then. The years
of estrangement disappeared from my mental vision; I heard his tender,
hesitating voice again, I felt his hand upon my head, extended in
blessing; and I became conscious of the words of the benediction spoken
in the language of the race. All that had happened between, I seemed to
have forgotten; and it took an appreciable time before I was recalled to
myself. But the wish once aroused in me was not to be eradicated, and,
ever since, my thoughts have dwelt upon the possibility of its
fulfilment."
A peculiar tensity of feeling came over the small circle. They followed
his words with growing astonishment; and neither he nor the others
thought of throwing off the mood his words had inspired.
"It was quite clear to me that without some preliminary ceremony I dare
not intrude upon the family group gathered about him on this anniversary
day. According to the traditions of our family, I had forfeited the
right; and yet I hoped I might find some appreciation of my position
among the younger generation and the intercession I need. I had often
heard of your family, Mr. Benas, and I saw your name at the head of the
lists of all charitable and public enterprises; and although I was
surprised never to meet you and your family on occasions at which
common interests might have thrown us together in certain social
circles, to which you really belong...."
"Of late years we have withdrawn from all intercourse, except with our
own family, and a few intimate friends," interrupted Mrs. Benas.
"But your position involves certain social obligations."
"Nowadays one hardly notices it, perhaps does not care to notice it, if
these obligations are not fulfilled," Mr. Benas rejoined with a slightly
ironical, slightly pained expression. "Formerly ours were the most
successful, the most elegant, and the most entertaining functions. My
wife had a gift for entertaining; and it was always a pleasure for us to
welcome happy, clever, representative, gay people. Now we confine
ourselves to a few formal and official dinners, made necessary by my
connection with the leading financial circles."
"We have become used to it, and do not miss anything," added Mrs. Benas.
"The spacious rooms which formerly resounded with merry society are now
quiet. But a more intimate, a more sincere life has taken its place.
Personally I should not feel the difference; but at times I am sorry
that our daughter is not able to enjoy the stimulus and the attractions
of such social gatherings. In the old days she had not yet made her
_debut_."
"But, mother, I have often told you that I have no longings in that
direction. Your goodness to me enriches my life sufficiently. Whatever
is beautiful, great, important, I enjoy."
"But it was entirely different when the people who offered the great and
the beautiful things of which you speak came and went freely in our
house, in a certain sense belonged to us, were our guests. The foremost
artists and men of science used to come here."
"I think, father, it is much pleasanter to know the works than the
authors," Hugo interrupted brusquely. "Every one knows what such as they
seek in the homes of rich Jews; and when you pay for their services and
creations, and ask nothing of them socially, then you do them and
yourself the greatest favor."
"That has not always been the case, Hugo. Your views are too severe and
rigid."
"It has always been so; only perhaps there were times when it was not so
evident. What do we want with their well-meant intentions and
condescensions, their forbearances and tolerations, their humanitarian
impulses! At bottom it has always been the same. The Jew was always
burned!--in Sultan Saladin's time, as well as now. Only now we do not
complacently accept such treatment, wagging our tails in gratitude like
a dog."
A dull fire burned in his eyes. His face wore an expression of pride and
energy.
"I'm afraid, Hugo," his mother said, trying to calm him, "that our guest
has but little interest in your opinions. You know, too, that we do not
agree with you altogether."
"Forgive me, Dr. Weilen," he said, turning to their guest with the
conventional manner and incisiveness of a Prussian functionary and a
volunteer of the Guards. "I was carried away by the subject, and then I
thought that here at my father's table.... you see, we are not
accustomed, nowadays, to have any one with us who does not understand
our pain and indignation."
"Nor is that the case on this occasion--at least not since this evening,
not since this hour which I have been permitted to spend among you."
Hugo bowed in silence.
Dr. Weilen arose, saying:
"But I must not encroach upon your hospitality too long. You know now
what it is I wish. Do you believe a way can be found for me to be
present in Rawitsch at Uncle Leopold's birthday celebration? Will the
family receive me for that day? Will he himself be disposed to receive
me? I beg of you to help me realize this desire of mine. In affairs like
this, in which a sympathetic temperament is of more avail than cold
reason, a clever and noble woman is the best messenger; and women are
fine diplomats, too. May I count upon you, Mrs. Benas, honored cousin?"
"I will consider. But how? As regards the matter itself, I am entirely
on your side. But you understand that in a large family there are scores
of considerations and prejudices that must be taken into account."
"I understand that perfectly."
"But there is still plenty of time before the birthday celebration."
"Diplomatic undertakings must be arranged long in advance," he laughed.
"I will make use of your suggestion and start negotiations," she said,
cleverly responding to his pleasantry.
"And will you allow me to come again, to assure myself of the progress
of the negotiations, and to encourage them by my personal intervention?
I must tell you that I have felt very much at home with you, not at all
like a stranger."
"I thank you, Dr. Weilen," answered his host, politely; and his wife
added, "You will always find a welcome here." Thereupon he took his
leave, Hugo escorting him to the hall, where the servant helped him on
with his heavy fur coat.
* * * * *
When Dr. Weilen stepped out into the street, gusts of wind blew the
snow-flakes whirling about merrily against his face. Tiny, pointed
snow-crystals caught in his beard and blinded his eyes. He pulled up
his fur collar more snugly, and hailed a passing cab.
He hesitated a moment before giving directions.
He was not in the mood to return at once to his own house; he drew out
his watch and saw by the light of the carriage lamp that it was nearly
eleven o'clock.
"How quickly the time passed," he mused. "I may still find some of my
friends at the 'Hermitage' or at the 'Kaiserhof.'" But as he was about
to enter the cab, he decided that he did not care for companionship, and
he concluded to go directly to his house, which was in the upper part of
Wilhelmsstrasse. On reaching his room, he lit the lamp on his desk,
intending to work a little while. But a moment later he tossed his pen
aside; he was too restless, and not in the proper mood. He paced up and
down the room to regain his composure.
"Remarkable! What refinement, dignity, and self-respect; and not a bit
purse-proud or arrogant," he said softly to himself. "The old man--well,
perhaps just a wee bit, but even he is very restrained; one can hardly
notice it. And his wife, my cousin, quite _comme il faut_,--so ladylike!
Why not? The Friedlaenders are of ancient aristocracy! The mother's blood
seethes in the son's veins! Poor fellow! What experiences and sufferings
a young Prussian law-student and volunteer of the Guards must have met
with to have become so curt and repelling. And this despite the princely
fortune which might have flung every door open to him, especially of
those houses which a man of his age most desires to enter. Instead of
that, half-martyr, half-hero, he fashions his own ideals. An interesting
fellow! Evidently talented and possessing the courage of his
convictions. How determined he was to vent his opinions, somewhat
aggressively, of course, to show me that I did not overawe him in the
least. A nice sort of chap! And then little Rita! How modest and quiet,
and clever withal, for you could see that she was interested in the
conversation, even when she was silent. Her eyes spoke, and so did her
mobile little face. And she takes all this wealth quite as a matter of
fact; she is to the manner born; she does not regard it as anything
extraordinary. Altogether charming!"
He had conquered his restlessness a little during these reflections; he
lit a cigar and went over to a table by the fire-place, heaped with
books, pamphlets, and journals. A low fire flickered on the hearth. He
fanned it to a bright flame, then moved the lamp from his desk to the
table and settled himself in an arm-chair.
"I wonder whether they _will_ restore me to their good graces! Not only
the Benases, but the others,--Uncle Leopold's family. If only for the
one day! How I hope they will! I'm actually homesick for--for the
Ghetto!"
He took up a book. "If they were to see you now, Victor, the gentlemen
of the Foreign Office! Yet a Ghetto it remains for all their liberty and
all their magnificence. Whether in the grand drawing-room of the
Tiergarten villa, or at Uncle Leopold's in Rawitsch.... That's exactly
what the young son recognizes in his vigor and in his consciousness of
injured pride. The older ones have become resigned to it."
* * * * *
In the family of Geheimrat Benas the visit of Dr. Weilen had caused
dissension. The father wished to invite Dr. Weilen to dinner in the near
future. It seemed to him a matter of course that a guest who had
approached them so graciously and unconstrainedly should receive equal
courtesy at their hands. His wife was inclined to second him in this
view, but she was strongly influenced by Hugo, who decidedly opposed
fostering a connection which, experience taught them, might result in
nothing but mortification and neglect. At first Rita was a silent member
of these councils, but at length she said: "I cannot understand why you
talk yourself into such ideas, Hugo. We have no right to be discourteous
to a guest who has approached us so politely. Impoliteness is lack of
refinement in all circumstances. We do not interfere with your opinions,
and therefore you have no right to ask us to have none of our own. But
above all, you should not ask us to disregard all the social
consideration to which any visitor at our house is entitled."
"Yes, any one except Dr. Weilen."
"But why? You're indulging in pure caprice! Has he done anything or
neglected to do anything to cause such brusque treatment?"
Hugo frowned.
"Did he not please you, Hugo?" his mother asked, in a pacific tone.
"Please me? I don't think we have a right to be influenced by our
personal sympathies or antipathies. Dr. Weilen pleased me well enough,
but he is our enemy, just as every one else.... or rather more than any
one else! And therefore I find it unnecessary to give him encouragement.
I should not like him to think we are running after him, or feel honored
because he condescended...."
"Goodness gracious, Hugo, sometimes you are quite unbearable! If people
heard you, they would think you're Elkish. One can excuse such
prejudices in an old, uneducated man; but in a modern young fellow of
your education they are hardly to be condoned. We do not oppose your
ideas and your convictions, but you ought not to go so far as to impose
them upon the family! As a result of circumstances beyond our control we
find ourselves outsiders in society; yet we need not carry our
resentment to the extent of repulsing a gentleman who has been so
pleasant and respectful in his advances. And that only because he is a
man in an exalted position."
Mr. Benas spoke with irritation. He continued impatiently:
"Entirely of his own accord he told us how he had happened to become
estranged from his family; and no doubt he could explain his further
actions. But after all it is none of our business. The sincerity of his
manner, his personality attracted me. Of course, at moments we were
constrained and uncomfortable, but that was surely due to us, not to
him, and above all to your own brusqueness; and his manner of ignoring
that was more than amiable."
"We must thank him for this condescension most humbly."
"Hugo!" He met a look of warning and beseeching in his mother's eyes.
"Well, enough of this. We'll invite Dr. Weilen to dine with us next
Sunday. It is not to be a formal invitation. Fanny, you yourself write a
few lines, and don't invite many people. Ten or twelve will do. In the
small dining-room--a simple but elegant affair. However, you're well
posted in all those fine distinctions, my lady," he added playfully, to
temper the impression of his severity toward Hugo. "And see to it that
our young man acquires more normal ideas. I know you are confederates,
and secretly you harbor his views."
"Joshua!"
He laughed. "There, you see, I am right. Usually you call me Joe, but in
uncommonly solemn moments it is Joshua! Dr. Weilen made the advances, we
must invite him, unless we intend to insult him with a repulse, and as
we do not want to insult him, we must follow the conventions. I expect
you to take this as your rule of behavior toward the Regierungsrat,
Hugo. I have no fondness for ostentation or inconsiderateness. Our
opinions in order to be sincere and effective need not take the form of
aloofness and discourtesy. Remember that!"
The young man looked almost pained; but he did not respond. As he was a
Jewish young man, respect for paternal authority was deep-rooted in his
being. Moreover, his father was ordinarily so amiable, kind, and
considerate toward his children, that when once he was decided and firm,
there was no thought of opposing him.
Rita's eyes gleamed on her father. A genial, tacit understanding existed
between the two, which leagued them, as it were, against the mother and
Hugo. This pretty, good-natured party difference gave a peculiar charm
to the intimacy of their family life.
"It is lucky that Rita is my confederate," he laughingly said as he
arose, "else, by this time, the shield of David would be emblazoned over
the door, and no stranger would be allowed to cross the threshold. In
fact, Elkish advocated some such thing when we spoke of Dr. Weilen's
visit. Elkish and you on the same platform! For heaven's sake, children,
do not let us be ridiculous! I surely appreciate the old man; and during
the past days he has brilliantly demonstrated his value in the matter of
the 'Magdeburgs,' but everything must be kept within bounds. It is time
for me to go to my office now. Fanny, whom do you want to invite?"
"How would Professor Zeidler do--and Jedlitzka, and Hoffman, the
sculptor?"
"All right! But no; they have not been invited for some time; and they
mustn't think we waited until we could have a Regierungsrat to meet
them,--oh, no!"
A smile of triumph flitted about the corners of Hugo's mouth.
"Invite a few of our own family. Justizrat Friedheim, Robert
Freudenthal, the architect, and Amtsgerichtsrat Lesser, with their
wives. That makes six; we are four; with Dr. Weilen eleven. We need a
bachelor."
"Dr. Rosenfeld?"
He laughed. "Well, yes! So that you and Hugo may have support. But now I
must go. There's just time to catch Bamberger before the Exchange opens.
Good-by, children. Don't get up from the table--_Mahlzeit!_"
Unanimity of opinion did not prevail among the three he left at their
breakfast. Nevertheless, before the day was over, Dr. Weilen received an
invitation to dine with the Benases on the following Sunday.
On the whole, the dinner passed off very pleasantly. Dr. Weilen, with
the ease of the man of the world, made himself at home in the small
circle. It was not difficult for him to find points of contact with
these men holding a high position in society; and the women were so
well-mannered, cultured, and genial, that he quickly lost the feeling of
strangeness. Besides, his own being radiated an atmosphere of
cordiality, which smoothed over the awkwardness of a first meeting. The
greetings between him and his hosts might almost have been called
cordial, as between people conscious of spiritual kinship. The Geheimrat
was in an especially good humor; and Rita felt inclined to be all the
more friendly as she was very apprehensive of Hugo's conduct toward
their guest.
Her fears proved groundless. Hugo was too well-bred to act
discourteously toward his father's guest. His behavior, though reserved,
was faultlessly polite. The appearance of Dr. Weilen, the Regierungsrat,
in his home was a _fait accompli_, to be accepted; consequently Dr.
Weilen soon felt at his ease in this company. The family connection
between him and certain of the guests was not spoken of. No one
displayed any curiosity. They seemed to be united by a secret bond. In
the course of the dinner the feeling of good-will increased. Dr. Weilen
was charmed with the elegant mode of life, and was particularly pleased
to see that the forms of good society seemed to come natural to them.
Nothing betrayed that they had grown up in different circumstances, and
that their present luxury had not been inherited from generation to
generation, but had been acquired within measurable time. They had all
the manners and accessories of their station. The liveried servants, the
beautiful porcelain, the costly silver, the exquisite wines, and the
choice dishes were as much in place here as in the most aristocratic
circles that Dr. Weilen frequented. The splendor of the surroundings
pleased him, not for the sake of the wealth itself, but for the air with
which it was carried off. He felt himself attracted to them, he felt a
spiritual kinship.
He became especially interested in Justizrat Friedheim, a cousin of Mrs.
Benas's on her father's side. He was a man with a powerful,
distinguished head set upon a small, thick-set body. Well known in the
legal world through his commentary upon commercial law, he had taken a
prominent part in behalf of the national liberal party during a recent
session of the Reichstag. He had declined re-election on the ground of
poor health. However, anyone who looked at this vigorous man, still in
the prime of his manhood, would readily surmise that there were other,
deeper-lying reasons, not openly mentioned, that deprived the fatherland
of the services of this active and distinguished statesman. To his left
sat the hostess, whom Dr. Weilen had taken down to dinner, and upon his
other side sat Mrs. Lesser. She was a beautiful blonde, with fine teeth,
and animated countenance, and lively manners. She was complaining to her
neighbor that it had become an impossibility to get into the Reichstag,
since he was no longer a member.
"I'm not good for anything any more," he answered, "but all you need to
do is apply at the office."
"That's such a nuisance. Formerly it was so pleasant to sit in the
members' box, and listen to Bebel and Eugen Richter." With an
affectation of alarm she glanced at Dr. Weilen. "I beg your pardon, Herr
Regierungsrat."
"The Government is accustomed to evils," jestingly interposed Mr.
Friedheim.
She hesitated to reply only one instant; then quick-wittedly: "So we are
in the same boat as the Government!"
"We could wish for no pleasanter companions in our misery," Dr. Weilen
gallantly said, and raised his glass to touch hers.
It was inevitable that every now and then the conversation should take a
dangerous turn, no matter how careful they were to confine the talk to
literary and art topics, and avoid politics. But in a circle of
intellectual men this was difficult; and the women of this circle seemed
as conversant with the questions of the day as the men. However, with
perfect tact and good taste, they avoided whatever might have provoked
an argument; and though their opinions were expressed with wit and
understanding, nothing occurred to give offense. They left the table in
high spirits. The temperament of their race came out very distinctly, no
less in the case of the Regierungsrat than of the others.
Friedheim, Lesser, and Weilen were chatting together in the smoking-room
over their coffee; the host and Freudenthal, the architect, were looking
over the plans for a villa on the Wannsee, which had been offered to Mr.
Benas. The ladies and the two younger men had withdrawn to the
music-room; and presently the strains of Wagner's "Feuerzauber" were
heard, played with masterly skill.
"Who plays so wonderfully?" asked Dr. Weilen.
"Mrs. Freudenthal, a famous artist before my cousin married her.
Perhaps you heard of her under her stage name, Flora Bensheimer."
"O, of course, the great pianiste?" he asked with interest. "And is she
the wife of the architect? Has she given up her career?"
"She plays only for her immediate family. When our cousin married her
ten years ago, she continued to perform now and then in public for
charitable purposes; but for the last few years, she has given that up
as well."
"But that is a loss both to charity and to the public."
"Freudenthal doesn't let charity suffer on that account," answered Mr.
Friedheim. "He is very rich and gives generously on all sides; but he
holds that he has no further obligations to the public. The remarkable
talent of his wife he keeps from the world ever since it was subjected
to affront. He can dispense his money without attracting notice; but he
must conceal his wife's art so as not to attract undue notice."
"But that is egotistical."
"Perhaps. He is peculiar. The marriage is a childless one, and his wife
is everything to him, wife and child in one."
"And was it easy for her to decide to give up the fascinations of a
public career? She is known all over the world."
"Freudenthal has transplanted her to the best of all worlds, to the
shelter of a loving and devoted marriage. He idolizes her and casts
laurel wreaths and diamonds at her feet, such as have never been
showered upon any other artist--a whole grove of laurels around her
villa at Nice, and as for the diamonds--consult the ladies about them;
they know about such things."
Dr. Weilen was amused by Mr. Friedheim's sarcastic manner, and he
rejoined: "I should like to hear about them. At all events I shall look
up the ladies."
The closing chords of the "Feuerzauber" died away, as he arose quietly
and went to the adjoining room. He had observed Rita through the open
door.
She was listening to the music, lost in revery, and she started with
surprise, when she suddenly heard at her side: "Are you musical, too,
Miss Rita?"
"Yes, a little. In our family we all play. Music is so inspiring, and we
seem to have a talent for it. I do not mean Flora Freudenthal, who has
married into the family, but there is Mrs. Lesser, a cousin of my mother
and of Mr. Friedheim, herself a Friedheim, who has a superb voice. She
was trained under the most distinguished singing masters; and some of my
other cousins have a fine understanding of music, and devote much time
to it."
"I suspect it is a Friedheim gift; for I myself am not at all musical."
She reflected a moment before saying: "It seems so, Dr. Weilen, though I
never thought of it before. Those on the Friedlaender side have other
talents."