If one studied the sporting magazines and pictures one learned that every refined rider has a refined dog to follow along. Fredy obeyed this rule. To the great terror of his father he purchased a wolfhound that was quite tame but who Fredy claimed was quite wild and vicious. I have never in my life seen such a kind, gentle and trusting dog. But the entire family trembled over his terrible ferocity. The whole family was amazed at Fredy, who placed his hand between the animal’s sharp white teeth. Fredy seemed to be a lion tamer.
Perlefter said, ‘I don’t want any dogs in the house.’
So a kennel was built for this silent animal, who crept through life like a pious martyr; a kennel meant for the yard but which was usually left in the hallway, where it lay near the coat rack as if guarding this apparatus.
But if Perlefter had to enter the hall he said, ‘Fredy, take the dog outside!’
And just as one feared the dog one marvelled at the wife. Everything about this woman was wonderful. First of all her name — she was called Tilly. Fredy called her Till. Her hair was dark blonde. The family called it a ‘coppery sheen’. Tilly had long teeth and short lips; her exposed gums could be seen when she smiled: ‘A unique dentition, teeth like pearls.’ Tilly was slim with a clear tendency to be broad in the hips. The family prophesized eternal slenderness for her. When she smiled one praised her eternal cheerfulness. If she was melancholy one admired her mature seriousness. If she quarrelled with Fredy they were charmed by her temperament. When they flirted one spoke of her ‘maternal disposition’. Even Fredy’s sisters, with the exception of Karoline who was occupied with her chemist, were in love with Tilly. They now went to the tailor who sewed for Tilly. They let her give them the address of new dressmakers. Perlefter’s youngest daughter gave up all scientific and social goals. She returned to the tradition of her sex, worried no more about unmarried mothers, no longer read the society magazines that were delivered to the house every week and neglected all charity balls. Margarete was as pretty in those days as when she was eighteen years old.
The good influence of the Kofritz house on that of Perlefter was unmistakable. Henriette had to experience it! She had to experience how the porter-woman now gave the rancid butter to the cats instead of using it for Sunday’s biscuits. But Henriette was now a rich farmer’s wife, and her husband would not die.
The connection of the two houses was a beneficial relationship for each. It turned out that the manufacture of leather goods could benefit from the help of chemistry, and Karoline’s chemist obtained a position. This fact reconciled him with the world he had always treated sullenly and shyly. He was talkative, and a talent awoke in him to tell anecdotes. ‘The young fellow is a good businessman!’ said Perlefter. The chemist could also perform various exciting card tricks and other magic. Since he had not injured his hands any further he was quick, and before they were aware of it the copper coins were hidden in his coat sleeve.
Why should he not also enjoy the comforts of life? He had been poor for so long, and this poverty, which had so many disadvantages, compensates its favourites by bestowing upon them a certain earnestness, even if they don’t deserve it. Some people look important just because they are poor, and one is inclined to ascribe genius to a pauper when in reality it is only misery. The great unjustness of the world order tempts us to attribute greater value to the poor, even though poverty alone should be reason enough to love those afflicted by it. Karoline’s poor chemist (his name was Rudolf) looked, with his wounded hands, so genial that I thought he would, tomorrow or the next day, invent a new gunpowder. As soon as he slipped into his first good suit he developed a banal social talent, and a couple of weeks later he was employed in a leather factory. I imagine he was not bad. Perhaps he had actually invented a superfluous gunpowder.
The Kofritz family lived in a suburb where no dust could penetrate, in a district from which germs were banished. In front of the house was a small ornamental garden and in the back a large orchard in which the birds from the whole neighbourhood gathered to twitter. The terrace looked out over this great green garden, and Perlefter was invited one afternoon to take tea there. He complained of a headache. He could not tolerate the twittering of the birds. He praised his own house because it didn’t have a terrace and asked, half indignantly and half sympathetically, ‘What did Kofritz build a terrace for?’
There were a few little things that Herr Perlefter didn’t like. I think, if I may say so, that he sought to retaliate for having to endure singing the praises of Herr Kofritz for several hours a day in front of strangers and acquaintances. Therefore, Alexander Perlefter looked for flaws; the larger the better. That Kofritz spent so much money annoyed him. He criticized the fact that Fredy had to ride instead of ‘looking after business’. But no one except his poor wife now cared for his advice and his foul moods. He stayed ever longer in the club where he was appreciated because of his new family ties. He allowed himself to celebrate, and yet I believe that it brought him no joy when one appeared to celebrate him while actually celebrating Kofritz.
Tante Kempen came to get her commission.
‘This marriage was truly made in Heaven!’ said Perlefter and cast a glance at the ceiling.
Frau Perlefter cried, for she could not tolerate any quarrels, and she hurried to give Frau Kempen some costly pineapples. Tante Kempen ate pineapples as if this magnificent fruit was an ordinary apple. She was indignant. She even said, ‘This marriage is far from complete. It is first an engagement!’
At this point Perlefter grabbed his chequebook and paid Frau Kempen her commission. In exchange she had to forgo pineapples, and instead she got cherries, which at that time were just beginning to ripen.
Frau Kempen placed little value on pineapples. She was not offended; she wanted only to garner for herself an invitation from Kofritz, and she succeeded. Herr Kofritz had a poor niece who lived with him whom he wanted to marry off, and he could use Frau Kempen’s services.
Frau Kempen even knew an appropriate man, a young journalist who worked for a large publishing house and who was waiting for the death of the local editor to be able to get married. By luck the young man, named Hirsch, got himself into the film section of the newspaper and received a salary increase.
I met the young man at Perlefter’s. Herr Hirsch had a substantial physiognomy and, despite his youth, little hair. Frau Perlefter made the apt but somewhat general observation that the young man looked ‘like an actor’. He had short legs and a long thick torso. His rigid nose sprang out with imperious confidence.
This young man was considered by the family to be a ‘gifted writer’. He sometimes brought free tickets. Herr Perlefter thought highly of him, although he still earned little. Unfortunately, Julie Perlefter was once again bedridden. Even before she had a chance to recover her health the young Herr Hirsch had decided upon the Kofritz niece. It seemed to me that later, after Julie had recovered, Herr Hirsch was sorry that he had been so impatient. He had chosen for life and could not alter his decision.
He soon married and became head of the film section. Had he taken Perlefter’s daughter he would certainly have moved into the commercial section, to the columns in which the important writers develop an interest in the stock market.
Fräulein Julie was now expected to be healthy for a half a year, and Frau Kempen made use of this time. She knew a dentist without a practice who had a great desire to establish himself.