CHAPTER XIV.

AN INFLAMMATORY SPEECH

In the Spineder home Christmas Eve had been celebrated in the usual patriarchal manner. But the atmosphere was not entirely cheerful. The Hofrat was beginning to have grave financial worries because of the depreciation of his fortune; Frau Spineder had not yet recovered from the shock of having had to pay a quarter million for her Christmas carp and three million for the Christmas goose; and Lotte was worried because she had received no news of Leo although she had hoped that he would at least remember her with a Christmas card.

As they were reverentially consuming the costly fish, the doorbell rang and the maid announced that a man had come to deliver something personally to the young lady. Lotte hurried out, and the fur-coated man who had something to deliver to her kissed her madly in the dark hall before he pressed a tiny package into her hand and hurried away.

In the dining room Lotte unwrapped the little package and, from a leather case, drew out a ring set with a magnificent pearl the size of a hazelnut.

“A Christmas present from M. Henry Dufresne,” said Lotte, blushing furiously; and as she drew the ring on her finger her young heart was filled with infinite happiness.

The Hofrat, however, was quite taken aback, and declared categorically:

“But now, Lotte, this M. Dufresne must present himself at last, and ask for your hand. For if such a ring is given to a girl it’s nothing less than an engagement ring.”

Lotte laughed as she kissed her father.

“Only a little more patience! Leo--Henry says he’ll come to see you very soon.”

But the mother shook her head again and thought:

“Queer times, queer children! She loves a man, forgets him, and then confuses his name with that of his successor!”

In January a number of large consumers’ organizations united to hold a mass meeting in the public auditorium of the City Hall with the slogan: “We cannot go on!” Tens of thousands of people attended the meeting, and in spite of the extraordinary cold, there stood before the building enormous crowds for whom there was no room within.

The assembly presented a remarkable appearance. Leo Strakosch, who had also come there, observed an unprecedented number of men with full beards, and of cries of “Hail!” With a slightly different background he could have supposed himself at an assembly of Tyrolese peasants in the days of Andreas Hofer. The gentle sex was also very well represented, but not by the most beautiful of its members in Vienna. Amid general cheering the druggist, Dr. Njedestjenski, opened the meeting with the declaration that things could go on thus no longer. He carefully avoided any connection of the widespread poverty and high cost of living with the expulsion of the Jews, but spoke in the most approved Pan-German manner, averring that the cause of the pitiable ruin of Vienna lay solely in the fact that Austria could not be annexed to Germany. Whereupon a working-man interrupted, amid great hilarity:

“We can’t annex ourselves any more! Or do you think the Germans are as silly as we, and will throw out their Jews?”

This wrecked the druggist’s train of thought; he stammered a little more of German unity and national consciousness, shouted “Hail!” and gave over the floor to the speakers of the evening. Whereupon the Jews became almost the sole topic of discussion. And they were spoken of in such a way that an uninitiated auditor would have believed Vienna to be the most philo-Semitic city in the world. When a wine-dealer began to speak in an anti-Jewish tone he was actually howled off the stage, and when someone called: “We’d be better off if we’d learned from the Jews instead of driving ’em out!” there was much applause. Leo could control himself no longer. His heart beating wildly, he designated his wish to speak, saying to himself as he mounted the platform: “Impudence, stand by me!” He pretended to have an imperfect command of the German language, emphasized over and over again that, as a Frenchman, he was really not entitled to meddle in Austrian affairs; but, he said, his love for this incomparably beautiful and charming city, a close second to--if not the peer of--Paris, forced him to express his views. At this the bearded portion of the audience felt flattered, while the women were delighted by the slender young man, handsome in spite of his imperial beard; and everybody shouted: “Hail!” Thereupon Leo continued with his French accent:

“In Paris, too, we have very many Jews, good and bad, useful and noxious. In any case, many of them deserve all respect, and are of great value to the country. But it would never occur to any of us to exile the Jews; instead, we all try to make use of their good points. As this is not my home, I don’t know all the qualities of the Viennese Jews. But I can say that in Paris I met very many exiles from Vienna who made a splendid impression and who doubtless will be good Frenchmen very soon. It is possible that there is a greater difference between the Austrian Christians and the Jews than between the latter and the more emotional and temperamental Frenchmen. But in that case they should complement each other all the better. I hear that in this country the Jews were reproached with controlling capital and possessing more money, proportionately, than the Christian citizens. Very good, ladies and gentlemen. But this merely goes to prove that they think and act more quickly--and from such qualities a wise government should be able to derive benefit for the community.”

Loud interjections from all sides: “Yes, indeed, a wise government--but ours is stupid! He’s right! Hail! Hail!”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” continued Leo, smiling, “it really makes no difference whether one likes the Jews or not. The yeast that is used in the making of bread has a horrible taste--but bread cannot be made without it. We must look at the Jews in a similar light. Yeast--not very pleasant by itself, and harmful in excessive quantities--but indispensable, in the right proportion, for our daily bread. And I think your bread is refusing to rise for lack of yeast.

“Now, however, is not the time for arguments or for crying over spilled milk, but for seeing what can be done about it. I don’t know what can be done in Austria. Were such a contingency to arise in France the people would insist on new elections, to show whether the country is satisfied with conditions as they are, or whether they should be changed.”

With these words Leo left the platform, and quickly became lost in the crowd. The assembly, however, became fearfully excited. The words “new elections” had struck the human mass as a spark might strike a keg of dynamite; the huge auditorium shook, as thirty thousand throats shouted these words, which found their way out on the street and became the catch-word of the day.

In the editorial offices of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ a conference of the chief editors and confidential agents of the party was held the next day; and for the first time in years it was resolved to inaugurate again an active, energetic political campaign, and to take this campaign out of the closed chamber and into the street. The editor-in-chief of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_, a former pen-cutter, Wunderlich by name, who managed the heritage of Viktor Adler as best he could, made the following pronouncement:

“We must adopt the slogan of this remarkable French painter, whose name cannot possibly be Diefress, as the idiotic chairman had it. Beginning right now we will voice incessantly a demand for new elections through our papers, assemblies, and councils. And now we will put to work our friends in France, Holland, Czechoslovakia, England, and America, and induce them to do their utmost to have large amounts of kronen thrown on the market. For if there is another appreciable fall of the krone, and another rise of the now stationary cost of living--then the time is ripe for us, and we will be able, if necessary, to use force to bring about the dissolution of the National Assembly.”