Part 16 (1/2)
The words seemed to echo from another world,--lamenting, exhorting, warning.
It was Dr. Rosenfeld who had spoken them. The young man sat there deathly pale, as though frightened by his uncalled-for interference in the family quarrel. The whole evening and even during the last conversation he and Hugo had remained quiet, although their faces plainly expressed their interest.
”My dear Henry, you, too, carry matters too far,” said Mr. Friedheim, impatiently. ”But as our humor is spoilt, and it is late, I think it is best to break up. The fresh December air will cool us off, and we will go home, only to begin over again, at the next opportunity.”
”We expect you on Wednesday for Skat,” said Mrs. Freudenthal.
”Aha, the session for the next discussion is arranged,” Mr. Friedheim laughed.
”Good-by, then, until Wednesday.”
”Good-by.”
Hugo and Henry also took their leave to spend an hour at the Cafe Bauer, where they were to meet several friends.
Mr. and Mrs. Benas and Rita, left alone, went to Mrs. Benas's boudoir.
”It is strange how easily we are carried away when we are among ourselves. Friedheim and Lesser are always ready for a fight. The slightest difference of opinion, and off they go,” said Mrs. Benas.
”The curious thing is that at bottom their opinions are not so very different, but argumentation is a racial trait. There's no doubt, we have too much temperament.” Mr. Benas smiled, lighting a cigar, and leaning back comfortably in his arm-chair. ”I'm curious to know whether Dr. Weilen is such a wrangler as the rest of the Friedlanders and the Friedheims,” he added, trying to tease his wife.
”I, Joshua? I know others who don't lack the same trait.”
”But, f.a.n.n.y dear, how can you compare us? Generations of practice in the subtle dialectics of the Talmud--that tells. It is not by chance that your family is famous in all intellectual pursuits, while the rest of us, who bear on our escutcheon the rabbit skins and bags of wool carried about by our ancestors, cannot get to be more than mere Geheimer Kommerzienrat.”
He liked to refer occasionally to his humble descent from simple merchants; especially when he felt his superiority as a quiet, self-contained man of the world, who could afford to laugh at the irritability and sensitiveness of others. That always put him in a good humor; and Mrs. Benas, well aware of this, fell in with his mood.
”Naturally, Joshua! Geheimer Kommerzienrat, that's nothing! You know you don't believe that. I think we may well be satisfied with one another.
Friedlander, Friedheim, and Benas! That's an imposing triple alliance. I think we may be well content.”
”And with all that belong to it.”
”Even though they quarrel the moment they come together, at the bottom of their hearts they swear by one another and are proud of one another.”
”Besides, a bit of argument is entertaining, and brings life into the s.h.i.+ndig.”
His wife looked at him reproachfully.
”I beg your pardon! I withdraw 's.h.i.+ndig.'”
”Indeed, you ought to be careful, Joe. One's language is bound to deteriorate when one indulges in such vulgar expressions.”
”But they're so distinctive and expressive, almost as good as the Jewish intonation.”
”Leave them to others.”
”Hold on, f.a.n.n.y. Do you see how I have caught you? Who is exclusive? Who are the others? Who are the others? Pity that Hugo is not here.”