The old man, however, will live until Judgement Day. He is hardy, taciturn, and his face looks like it was hewn from the brown earth. He is never angry, never friendly, always alert; his tiny little eyes are forever wide open as if they have no lids and never require sleep.
Henriette is a brave wife, and she waits in vain for his death.
VI
Herr Perlefter had much to sigh about in those days. The demands of his wife and his engaged children escalated. Herr Perlefter revelled in complaining. It sickened him a bit that the family no longer had time to deal with him. From the delightful centre, in which he had lived year after year, highly visible, respected and pitied, he had slipped more and more to the periphery. His son, his daughter and his son-in-law lived like distinguished guests in his house, and there were days when lunch was served without waiting for Perlefter, even though he was only five minutes late. When he arrived the family said they had assumed he would be at the club that day.
The family took up irritating habits. The old order was no longer maintained. Once Henriette had left the house the maids changed quickly, and Perlefter could tolerate no new faces or new names. He called all the girls Henriette — whether their names were Anna, Klementine or Susanne. Usually their name was Anna.
One prepared for the ‘quiet weddings’. Invitation lists were assembled. The household trembled with joyful agitation. ‘We’re getting old!’ said Perlefter.
He feared age. He thought about his father who had lived to the age of ninety-two and become a revered burden to his children, even an obstacle. Perlefter did not wish to live that long. He would have completely given in to this miserable mood had his son’s party not compensated for all the trouble through which he had to suffer for the celebration. It was a magnificent party that Fredy threw, so much so that one could even forget about the poor chemist whom the inept Karoline — and it had taken long enough — had selected.
It was a magnificent party. Alexander Perlefter could not have wished for a better one. Fredy had married into one of the richest families: his father-in-law was the leather-goods manufacturer Kofritz, the same Kofritz from whom all the pocket mirrors, fashion accessories, sport jackets, dog muzzles, horse saddles and travel-manicure sets originated; the same Kofritz who produced the best leather armchairs in the world, wonderful seats and recliners that were customized to the size of their users, whether wide or thin, short, average height or tall. It was the very same Kofritz whose initials could be seen on the most distinguished luggage of the most distinguished travellers, whose crest was a lion pelt with the printed motto ‘Respect the Trademark’. Herr Leopold Kofritz was a self-made man, just like Herr Perlefter. But in the most important things these two wealthy men were different from each other. Above all, it was how they spent their money. If one could say that earning money is a talent, so one could say with even more certainty that spending money requires a certain character. In this regard, I should note that knowing both fathers well Perlefter had only talent, while Kofritz also had character.
Leopold Kofritz was known as a ‘generous businessman’. He did not seek to elicit compassion from those around him as Perlefter did but, rather, envy and admiration. He didn’t wish to be loved but feared. He didn’t want to win over his fellow men he wanted to amaze them. He was more brutal and less fearful in nature but by no means decisive. His hesitation always wore the mask of determination. When he still didn’t know what he wanted after a long time it seemed to others that he knew for certain. One said of him that from the first moment of his career he knew that he would produce the best leather goods in central Europe. He liked to tell of his beginnings, and he assured all those who believed him anyway that even as an errand boy in the steel industry he already had a great interest in suitcases. If one heard him speak this way one had to believe that the true merchants and manufacturers, those with very particular talents for their specific industries, were blessed by God Himself, just as was the case for sculptors, painters and musicians. One had no doubt that the young Friedrich Kofritz had an inner voice calling him to the great showcases of the leather industry. Fate had chosen him to produce leather goods under a trademark that was, in truth, not original but ingenious.
He was small in stature, tough, broad-shouldered, with a low forehead and thick, stiff black hair. Although he was of minimal body size he filled the room with his personality. He did not demand absolute silence as Perlefter did. One could even contradict him. He countered each argument with his healthy smile, his strong white teeth, his blood-filled red lips and his twinkling, squinting eyes. Although he was never actually right he upheld his side using the casualness of the mighty, who require no logic because they have power. Unlike Herr Perlefter Herr Kofritz made no small excuses. He said only ‘So! Do they?’ and in this question lay the entire scorn of an expert against a dilettante. There was no area in which Herr Kofritz had not achieved mastery. It seemed that he had been through everything. But he had no experience, nor did he require any experience to be heard and respected. He had the best and most indisputable tools to back up all his assertions: health and wealth. In the society circles frequented by Perlefter, Herr Kofritz was the richest. He maintained the best relationships. He was so powerful that he did not need to search the club to see in which room his chairs and sofas were. Yes, it was as if he was wielding his influence over the highest authorities in the country through his seating. Not even ministerial seating was treated with such importance.
Herr Kofritz was an impressive man in every way. He had much more money than Perlefter. He had a large house, a lot of servants, a business automobile and a luxury car, two handsome dogs; he went hunting and even knew how to shoot; he associated with high officials and radical monarchists, and he was himself not averse to the idea of a monarchy. He did not fear authorities as did Perlefter; rather, he loved them as one loved his peers. Herr Kofritz had ten titles and twenty honorary offices; his worth multiplied, his property was ever greater, his factories grew and his workers never went hungry. Although his father was only a moderately wealthy Russian Jew who had emigrated, Herr Kofritz had the demeanour, voice, inflexion, manners, confidence and ideology of a long-established, firmly planted conservative. Although he belonged to the Society to Combat Anti-Semitism he was also part of the Society Against Eastern European Jews. He chose the Central Party and declared himself, if one asked him, in favour of their political aims. But what he enjoyed most was amusing himself in the Conservatives’ Bowling Club, and he gave as many donations for national purposes as he did to the fund for war veterans of the Republic. He gave to both sides with the same determination. Nobody could reproach him for anything. He was one of those public benefactors who occupy an outstanding place on the list of professional scroungers and among charitable ladies. His name was in all the newspapers, in all stories about donations received. He once told Perlefter that he had even had an office specially built just for charitable purposes, which was tasked with managing public collections in the newspapers and handling applications. Herr Perlefter spoke some days of this office.
It seemed to me that Herr Kofritz was in agreement with his daughter’s choice. He wanted to bring Fredy ‘into the business’. First, Fredy had to become a capable horse rider. He rode every morning through all the avenues, so that anyone near by could locate him. Frau Perlefter allowed herself out of the house once to see her son ride. Fredy also liked to go out in the afternoon in his equestrian outfit. He wore a bright-white tie, and the family said that he looked like nobility. Herr Kofritz gave him a horse. On the saddle were the initials and the trademark. Fredy’s whip had no equal in the entire riding world. This whip was new and yet as worn as that of an old equestrian. The handle was an owl’s head with amber eyes. A wonderful leather loop wagged below it like a dog’s tail.