It is quite interesting enough to write in more detail about the career of Herr Perlefter. In any case, it can be seen that, whether good or bad, from the start he had an angel accompany him along his way, one with a weakness for businessmen, removing inconvenient obstacles and associates and diligently rewarding the dedication with which Perlefter saved small or large amounts. For the sake of thoroughness, I will also share that Perlefter was a distinguished businessman, respected member of the stock exchange, that he had begun a wholesale timber business and then had the magnificent idea of using the wood himself. For when he realized, after careful calculation, that those to whom he sold the timber earned more than he did, he decided to be his own customer. He thought first of a furniture business. He could employ one of his countless poor relatives to turn the bad wood into good wardrobes. As it happened, the widow described earlier had married a respectable carpenter. A carpenter who was a relative was certainly better than one who was a stranger. A furniture business was thus not a bad idea. Then the death of another of Herr Perlefter’s brothers-in-law brought a still better idea. The brother-in-law died from neglected gallstones and left behind a considerable sum of money and two inexperienced daughters who were not able to make the preparations for their father’s burial, and so Herr Perlefter had to take it on himself. He went to a coffin establishment and became annoyed over the high prices. But he was not annoyed for long. As he felt the coffin he realized through his great expertise that it was hewn from miserable wood. One certainly spent more on a coffin than on a piece of furniture. The customers in a furniture shop were young engaged couples. And, from personal experience, Perlefter knew that happiness, particularly the happiness of love, is so overpowering that one forgets to be critical. On the other hand, it could be assumed that misfortune makes one uncritical and blind against the defects of merchandise that was destined anyway to rot in the ground. Who among all the kin would dare to skimp on the last necessity of a deceased loved one? Certainly coffin-making was a brilliant occupation, and the statistics of the previous year showed that there were more deaths than engagements. So Perlefter founded a coffin shop. The carpenter whom the widow had married began to make good coffins out of bad pine. Thus Perlefter was finally relieved of his voluntary commitment to support the seamstress as he had given her husband work.
So Herr Perlefter continued to grow in stature. Among the pillars of human society he was an outstanding one. He could no longer escape the various honours that were bestowed upon him, although he claimed he would have rather avoided them. He became a councillor and member of the Liberal and Moderate Party Club. I cannot underestimate this Moderate Party Club, neither its magnificent facilities nor the integrity and character of its members, their power and possessions. They were men as upright, as solid, as steady as the wide leather armchairs in which they sat, smoking and speaking of the politics of the country and the world. They were council members, parliamentarians, ministers in the making and former ministers. Within the club there were class differences. Naturally Herr Perlefter had to greet a minister first. Naturally the response from the minister was quite condescending. There were moderately educated businessmen and also their academic counterparts, men of scientific backgrounds. This club had numerous tables, and at each one sat a select company. One could determine the influence of a club member by the manner in which they treated the servants, who, like all the servants of the world, were the best at understanding such nuances. And, although Perlefter and people like him were not always pleased with the behaviour of the upper classes, they were proud of this, of their good fortune at being allowed to share the same room with them.
It was, as I said, a club of the Moderate Party, which had no great significance in the country but had newspapers — a lot of papers and skilful pens. It was as if this party had been created for Alexander Perlefter. It was like that bridge where he liked to linger; it required no decisiveness or risky actions — rather, it seemed moderating. It mediated, it created no decisive enemies, it met Perlefter’s world view, it left God alone — as well as the princes and the rich people — but also the workers, the homeless and the gypsies.
One might assume that this club was frequented by people such as Perlefter. But it was not so. As far as I could tell, there were not many of the ordinariness of Alexander Perlefter. The opportunity was offered me, on a few occasions, to dine at the club. I came to know some of the members. Perlefter introduced me to them. He did not fail to praise my talents and achievements in front of the men to whom he introduced me, although he himself did not think as much of my talents and achievements as he pretended. Afterwards he did not forget to describe for me, enthusiastically, the importance, the greatness and the character of each man. I recall that neither Herr Perlefter nor I had made any impression upon these people. They nodded in a friendly manner and smiled, revealing their yellowed smoker’s teeth and gold fillings, but I disappeared from their memory as might any indifferent object, some insignificant poster or the number of a taxi they had used. I didn’t bother trying to make an impression on these great and decorous men because I was too anxious trying to memorize their faces and their mannerisms. Thus I knew that the divorce lawyer, Herr Doctor Sigismund Grunewald, who used to be known as Grünewald, wore a full beard that looked like a black carpet which has become grey around the edges through frequent use. He had rather thin fingers with improbably strong knuckles, which looked like nodes or frostbite scars. With these white and sinister fingers he often stroked his beard, stretching them apart to make a sort of natural comb out of them. At the attorneys’ table sat the former minister Lierecke, a man whose bushy beard concealed his upper and lower lip and who liked furtively and absentmindedly to wipe his fingers dry on the end of the tablecloth. There was also in the club the tin-can manufacturer Simmwinger, a grey gentleman with striking and colourful wide neckties and high collars, in whose ears were whitish-yellow tufts of overgrown moss. Frequenting the club was the café owner and former master baker Ringelhardt who owned the three largest cafés in the city and who always spoke loudly as if he were addressing the thousands of customers at one of his packed locations. There also came into the club a pensioner named Major Grohl, a small man with a red and porous nose who, although he wore civilian clothes, could not manage without the spurs on his boots and who ever lived in an eternal cloud of silver clinking and owned a large sheep-dog that answered to the unusual name of Kratt. There was also the Member of Parliament, Schundeler, a young man from the garment industry who through diligent studies of the national economy and several courses in public speaking had worked his way to becoming a representative of the people. I can recall the tobacco dealer Zopf, the watchmaker and jeweller Beständig, the riding-school owner Nessedolt, the Fire Department inspector Teul, the government commissioner Taklap and the Jewish rabbi Bloch.