The city without Jews
Date: 2025-06-14T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Antisemitism -- Austria -- Fiction; Jews -- Austria -- Fiction

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Title: The city without Jews

A novel of our time

Author: Hugo Bettauer

Translator: Salomea Neumark Brainin

Release date: June 14, 2025 [eBook #76288]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: Bloch Publishing Company, 1926

Credits: Tim Lindell, David E. Brown, Joyce Wilson, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CITY WITHOUT JEWS ***

THE
CITY WITHOUT JEWS

A NOVEL OF OUR TIME
BY
HUGO BETTAUER

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN
BY
SALOMEA NEUMARK BRAININ

Authorized English Translation

BLOCH PUBLISHING COMPANY
NEW YORK 1927

Copyright, 1926, by
Bloch Publishing Co., Inc.

International Copyrights Secured

Second Printing

Printed in the U. S.

CONTENTS

PART I
CHAPTER | PAGE
1. | The Anti-Jewish Law | 3
2. | Herr Schneuzel and His Son-in-Law | 23
3. | At Closing Time | 27
4. | A Shot | 30
5. | Girls Among Themselves | 35
6. | Dr. Schwertfeger | 39
7. | A Middle-Class Viennese Home | 48
8. | “My Dear Christians!” | 57
PART II
1. | Lotte Spineder to Leo Strakosch, 22 Rue Foch, Paris | 65
2. | Rough Woolens—The Latest Style | 72
3. | The Old-Timer | 77
4. | “Something He Cannot Finish” | 80
5. | Henry Dufresne | 84
6. | The End of the Tenants’ Protective Law | 94
7. | Zwickerl Goes Into Bankruptcy | 99
8. | The Sweet, Gay Young Things | 105
9. | The End of the Hakenkreuzler | 109
10. | Cheap Summer-Resorts | 114
11. | A Stormy Debate | 121
12. | The League of True Christians | 125
13. | A Melancholy Christmas | 132
14. | An Inflammatory Speech | 137
15. | Herr Laberl Turns | 144
16. | “Down With the Government!” | 149
17. | Preparations | 156
18. | The Election | 165
19. | A Disastrous Drink | 169
20. | The Repeal of the Anti-Jewish Law | 177
21. | “My Beloved Jew!” | 186

INTRODUCTION

The City Without Jews! It sounds almost like a jest, a paradox. The cosmopolitan will smile at the title; yet both Jews and Christians will prick up their ears and wonder: “Does such a thing exist?”

Some will consider this book merely a clever fantasy. Still, the reading of it will make them feel that The City Without Jews is symptomatic of our time.

One fine day a law is passed in the great city, Vienna (but it might just as well have been New York or London), expelling all Jews from the country. Not only Jews and converted Jews must leave, but also those of Jewish origin: that is, the children of mixed marriages.

The law, which the most rabid Ku Klux Klansman, Hakenkreuzler, or anti-Semite could not have conceived more skilfully even in his wildest dreams, is rigorously enforced. “Unregistered merchants, retail-dealers and so-called commission agents must leave the country within three months of the passage of the law; registered proprietors of firms, clerks, civil service employes, and manual laborers, within four months; artists, scholars, physicians, attorneys and the like, within five months. Directors of corporations, banks, and industries that paid taxes on an income of more than two hundred million kronen in the past year, are given six months’ time.”

After six months, the city without Jews comes into being.

As for Hugo Bettauer, its author—this whimsical flight of his fancy cost him his life. In March, 1925, not long after the publication of the novel, he was killed by a zealous twenty-year old ‘Nordic’. At the trial, the murderer declared himself content with his deed, as he had resolved to save German Kultur from degeneration, and believed that Bettauer was a menace to this Kultur.

But curiously enough Hugo Bettauer was himself a good Christian, the scion of a Protestant Viennese merchant family. Not a Jew—not an interested propagandist! A talented journalist of the Danube City, whose versatile pen mastered the novel as well as the feuilleton.

What was Bettauer’s crime? He wrote a novel of our time. His journalistic temperament, his many travels and adventures had brought him in contact with all spheres of society. Twelve years of his life were spent in New York—he knew metropolitan life in both hemispheres, knew it as thoroughly and intimately as only a finely discerning observer can. That is why Bettauer’s City Without Jews became a universal novel, transcending the geographical boundaries of Austria. That is also why Bettauer’s Vienna will seem so familiar to New Yorkers, Londoners, even Parisians.

Wittily, fascinatingly, colorfully, Hugo Bettauer builds the city without Jews. With a sure touch he raises the curtain behind which this hundred per cent Christian city works and plays. Nonchalantly, with an ironic smile, the Viennese artist takes us to the stock exchange, the theatre, the great department stores, shows us the night life, the middle-class Viennese home, the Parliament and the café. We see and enjoy the city without Jews in all its phases. Dispassionately, Bettauer paints a modern picture that lives and breathes. But why do we read the novel as though it were a thrilling episode in contemporary history? And why did Hugo Bettauer receive the fatal bullet as royalty for his novel?

An attempt to answer this scientifically would bring us to the fundamental question of the mutual adaptability of Jews and non-Jews. It would touch upon the race problem that still torments the world—now more than ever—and which Bettauer knew so well. Propagandist phrases could easily slip in, phrases that would again stir up the ancient controversy between the Jewish and the Christian Weltanschauung.

It would be unfair toward the author of this book. For Bettauer successfully escaped the temptation to propagandize.

The City Without Jews was built by Bettauer, the fearless Christian. Explanation, comment, or an analysis of his purpose, would be out of place, and might be interpreted as an attempt to use his novel as political propaganda.

In Europe, The City Without Jews, is arousing an unabating interest. In less than a year, a quarter of a million copies of the novel have been sold, an unprecedented figure in German modern literature. The translation for the American edition was made from the fifty-fourth edition, following exactly the simple, unaffected style of the original.

The Translator

New York, 1926

PART ONE

CHAPTER I.
THE ANTI-JEWISH LAW

A SOLID human wall, extending from the University to the Bellaria, surrounded the beautiful and imposing Parliament Building. All Vienna seemed to have assembled on this June morning to witness an historic event of incalculable importance. Businessmen and laborers, fashionable ladies and women of the people, half-grown boys and old men, young girls, little children, invalids in rolling chairs—all were intermingled, shouting, debating, and perspiring. And ever and again someone suddenly felt the urge to deliver a speech before his neighbors, ever and again there burst forth the cry: “Throw out the Jews!”

Ordinarily it happened at such demonstrations that people with hooked noses or conspicuously black hair were given a thorough beating. But this time nothing of the sort occurred, for not a Jew was in sight; and the cafés and banking-houses of the Franzensring and Schottenring sagely taking into account all possibilities, had closed their doors and pulled down their shades.

Suddenly a deafening roar filled the air.

“Hail Dr. Karl Schwertfeger—Hail, hail, hail! Hail the liberator of Austria!”

Slowly an open automobile rolled through the human mass as it receded to make way. In the car sat a powerful old man, his massive skull covered with unruly tufts of white hair.

He took off his soft gray hat, nodded to the jubilant crowd, and twisted his face into a smile. But it was a sour smile, somehow belied by the two furrows that ran downward from the corners of his mouth. And the expression of his deep-set gray eyes seemed somber rather than joyful.

Laughing girls crowded forward, swung themselves on the running-board; one tossed flowers to the great man, another, bolder, threw her arms around Dr. Schwertfeger’s neck and kissed him on the cheek. The chauffeur, apparently familiar with his master’s reaction to such emotional outbursts, made the car give a lurch forward, so that the girls were suddenly thrown off backward. But they were not hurt, for a dozen arms stretched out to catch them as they fell.

Within the Parliament Building, however, the vociferous enthusiasm of the street did not prevail; in its place was feverish excitement, too intense to be expressed aloud. The deputies,—not one of whom was missing,—the ministers and ushers went about in anxious silence; and even the overcrowded galleries made not the slightest noise.

Only whispers issued from the press tables, where careless ease had always been the rule. And a definite territorial division had been made. The compact Jewish majority of the reporters had crowded its chairs together, while the representatives of the Christian-Socialist and German-Nationalist papers formed a group of their own. Formerly the Jewish and Christian newspapermen had mingled freely—in their profession they were not partisans, but only colleagues. Furthermore, since the Jewish journalists generally had more news, and were able to turn it to better account, their anti-Semitic brothers depended on them a good deal. Today, however, the Christians cast malevolent glances toward the Jews; and when little Karpeles of the Weltpost, who had just come in, greeted Dr. Wiesel of the Wehr with a friendly “Good morning,” the latter turned his back without responding.

Newspapermen continued to pour in; among them were representatives of the foreign press, just arrived in Vienna for this occasion.

“Impossible to move,” growled Herglotz, of the Christian Tag, whereupon a bearded little fellow with a tremendous waistline, replied:

“Only a few days more, then we’ll have plenty of room here!”

Subdued coughs, laughter, and smiles on the one side, an exchange of significant glances on the other.

A blond, pink-cheeked young man bowed slightly to the left and to the right.

“I’m Holborn, of the London Telegraph. Got here just an hour ago, and don’t know where I am. Arrived in London day before yesterday after a six months’ stay in Sydney—and an hour later I was in the train again, on my way to Vienna. Our managing editor, the old fool, told me nothing, but only said: ‘Plenty of excitement in Vienna these days—they’re throwing out the Jews. Go there and cable me till the wires burn up!’ So it would be very kind of you, I’d be eternally grateful, if you’d tell me what it’s all about.”

This speech had been delivered in so droll an Anglicized German that the tension was somewhat relieved. Gesticulating violently, Minkus of the Tagesbote took hold of his English colleague and began:

“Now, I’ll explain everything to you....” But Dr. Wiesel did not let him continue. “You will pardon me, but it would be more appropriate for this explanation to come from our side.”

A menacing tone, ominous emphasis on the word “our.”

And in a trice Holborn was in the Christian corner, where, in a few terse sentences, Wiesel sketched the situation:

“As to what is going to happen, you will hear that shortly from the lips of our Chancellor, Dr. Karl Schwertfeger, who will go into the details of the law for the expulsion of all non-Aryans from Austria. Briefly, the history is as follows: After our so-called financial recovery, which lasted for two years, Austrian money again fell into a disorganized state. And when the value of the krone had fallen to the two hundredth part of a centime, chaos set in. Ministries fell one after the other, disturbances occurred every day, there was looting of shops, to say nothing of pogroms—the populace, desperate, stopped at nothing, until finally new elections had to be called. The Social-Democrats entered the campaign with their old program, while the Christian-Socialists swarmed about their gifted leader, Dr. Karl Schwertfeger, whose rallying-cry was: Throw out the Jews from Austria! Now, as you may be aware,”—Holborn nodded, though he knew nothing about it,—“the result of the elections was a complete collapse of the Social-Democrats, Communists, and Liberals. Even the working masses voted for ‘throwing out the Jews,’ and the Socialist party, formerly the strongest, barely salvaged eleven seats. The Pan-Germans, however, who came out with flying colors, had also taken up the cry of ‘Throw out the Jews.’

“So, with his genius, his fearless energy, his bold impetuosity and eloquence, Dr. Schwertfeger succeeded in obtaining the consent of the League of Nations for this great expulsion of the Jews; for he had placed before the League the alternative of the annexation of Austria to Germany or a free hand in this matter. And now Schwertfeger is to propose the law, which will certainly be passed. You are, therefore, witnessing an historic....”

Calls of “Hush!” came from all sides. Wiesel could not continue, for the Presiding Officer of the House, a red-whiskered Tyrolese, flourished his gavel and gave the floor to the Chancellor.

Sepulchral silence, through which the humming of the ventilators sounded weirdly. A suppressed cough, the rustling of papers in the press gallery—everything was heard distinctly.

Inordinately tall although his head was thrust forward and his shoulders stooped, the Chancellor stood on the platform. His hands, clenched into fists, rested on the desk; from under the bushy gray brows his keen, glittering eyes sped over the auditorium. He stood thus, motionless, until suddenly, throwing back his head, he began with the powerful voice that had always commanded attention at even the most turbulent meetings:

“Ladies and gentlemen! I am about to propose the law and the amendments to our constitution that purpose nothing less than the expulsion of the non-Aryan,—to be precise, of the Jewish elements from Austria. Before I proceed to this, however, I wish to make some purely personal remarks.

“For five years I have been the leader of the Christian-Socialist party; and for a year I have been Chancellor, having been chosen for this position by an overwhelming majority of this House. During these five years the so-called liberal papers and the Social-Democratic sheets,—in short, all the papers edited by Jews,—have depicted me as a sort of bugbear, a rabid Jew-hater, a fanatic enemy of the Jews and everything Jewish. Just today, when the power of this press is approaching its irrevocable end, I feel impelled to explain that all this is not true. Yes, I have the courage to state today, from this platform, that I am much more a friend than a foe of the Jews!”

The hall rustled with whispers like a field from which a flock of birds is rising.

“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I like the Jews. Before I entered the seething arena of politics I had Jewish friends; in the lecture halls of our Alma Mater I sat at the feet of Jewish teachers whom I revered, and still revere. And I am always ready to recognize—yes, to admire—the native virtues of the Jews, their extraordinary intelligence, their strivings for higher things, their model family life, their internationalism, and their ability to adapt themselves to any environment!”

Cries of “Hear! Hear!” were audible, the deputies and visitors became tense with excitement. The English journalist, who had not understood everything, curiously asked Dr. Wiesel whether the man down there were not the spokesman of the Jews.

The Chancellor went on.

“In spite of this,—or, rather, because of it,—I became more and more convinced, as the years passed, that we non-Jews can no longer live together with the Jews, that we must either bend or break, that we must give up either our Christian ways, our own life and customs, or the Jews. Ladies and gentlemen! The trouble is simply that we Austrian Aryans are no match for the Jews, that we are ruled, oppressed, and violated by a small minority because this minority possesses qualities which we lack. The Latin peoples, the Anglo-Saxons, the Yankees, even the North Germans and the Suabians can digest the Jews because these nations equal, if they do not surpass them in agility, tenacity, energy, and business sense. We, however, cannot digest them; with us they always remain a foreign element that spreads over our entire body and finally enslaves us. The vast majority of our people comes from the mountain country; it is a simple and sincere people, dreamy, playful, given to impractical ideals, fond of music and calm contemplation of nature, upright and pious, thoughtful and good. These are marvellously beautiful qualities which can give rise to a splendid culture and a wonderful new life—if they are given free play and an opportunity to develop. But the Jews among us did not permit this quiet development. With their uncannily keen intelligence, their worldliness and freedom of tradition, their catlike versatility and their lightning comprehension—with all their faculties, accentuated by centuries of oppression, they overpowered us, became our masters, and gained the upper hand in all our economic, spiritual and cultural life.”

Shouts of “Bravo!” “Quite right!” “That’s so.”

With his bony right hand Dr. Schwertfeger raised the glass to his thin lips, as his half ironic, half satisfied gaze swept the hall.

“Let us look at our little Austria today. In whose hands is the press, and therefore public opinion? In the hands of the Jew! Who has piled billions upon billions since the ill-starred year 1914? The Jew! Who controls the tremendous circulation of our money, who sits at the director’s desk in the great banks, who is the head of practically all industries? The Jew! Who owns our theatres? The Jew! Who writes the plays that are produced? The Jew! Who rides about in automobiles, who revels in the night resorts, who crowds the cafés and fashionable restaurants, who covers himself and his wife with pearls and precious stones? The Jew!

“Ladies and gentlemen! I have said, and still maintain, that essentially, when considered objectively, the Jew is an excellent individual. But is not the rose-beetle with its iridescent wings essentially also a beautiful, excellent creature? And notwithstanding this is it not destroyed by the careful gardener who is more interested in the rose than in the beetle?—Is not the tiger a splendid animal, strong, fearless, intelligent? And do we not hunt it down because the struggle for our own existence necessitates it? Only from this standpoint can we Austrians view the Jewish problem. Either we, or the Jew! Either we, who make up nine-tenths of the population, must perish, or the Jew must go! And now, when at last we have the power, we would be fools—nay, criminals—we would be sinning against ourselves and our children were we not to make use of this power to expel the small minority that is destroying us. Here we cannot consider high-sounding words like humanity, justice, and tolerance—for our existence, our very lives and the lives of future generations are at stake! The past few years have increased our wretchedness a thousandfold; our state is completely bankrupt, we are headed for disaster,—in a couple of years our neighbors, under pretense of restoring order here, will pounce upon us and tear our little country to pieces. But the Jews, unaffected by all these events, will continue to thrive and flourish and to be the masters of the situation. And as they have never been Germans in their heart and soul, they will remain the masters when conditions will have changed and we are slaves!”

Fearful agitation prevailed throughout the house. Savage cries burst forth: “That must never be! Let us save ourselves and our children!” And from the street came the echo, from ten thousand throats: “Throw out the Jews!”

Dr. Schwertfeger let the excitement run its course, shook hands with his colleagues in the ministry, and then spoke on the enforcement of the law. For the sake of humanity, and in compliance with the conditions specified by the League of Nations, great consideration and absolute justice would be the rule. Everyone was to have the right to take along as much of his property as consisted of cash, valuable papers, and jewelry, as well as to sell his real estate and business as he pleased. Enterprises that could not be sold would be taken over by the state, the net profits for the past year, as entered in the tax report, being taken as five per cent of the total value. Thus, if an enterprise had produced a net profit of half a million in the past year, it could be redeemed for ten million. The Chancellor’s lip curled in a malicious smile.

“In the calculation of these amounts, as well as in giving permission for the taking along of cash, we shall of course be guided by the tax returns only. Thus a man who has claimed to have no money will not be permitted to take any with him; and if he nevertheless has some property it will be confiscated. If a man has given the net profit of his business as half a million, he may take along ten million, even though it should develop that his actual income was ten times more. In this way many a sin will receive bitter retribution,” observed the speaker, as the hall rocked with laughter. Then he continued:

“Those who do intellectual work and men who receive a definite salary, who really own no property,—like physicians,—will, on their departure, receive from the state the amount they designated as their yearly income on their tax report. So that if a physician has stated his income to be three hundred thousand kronen, he will receive this sum. To prevent any further evasion of taxes the law includes the Draconian provision that any attempt to take out sums greater than those permitted is to be punished by death. Similarly, Jews or those of Jewish origin who attempt to continue staying in Austria secretly, do so under pain of death.

“The law is to be enforced as follows:

“Unregistered merchants, retail-dealers, and so-called commission agents must leave Austrian territory within three months of the passage of the law; registered proprietors of firms, clerks, civil service employes, and manual laborers, within four months; artists, scholars, physicians, attorneys, and the like, within five months. Directors of corporations, banks, and industries that paid taxes on an income of more than two hundred million kronen in the past year are given six months’ time.

“And now I come to an important point, to which I will ask you to give close attention. As you know, the law of expulsion applies not only to Jews and converted Jews, but to those of Jewish origin as well. This term includes the children resulting from mixed marriages. If, for example, a Christian woman of pure Germanic-Aryan stock has married a Jew, he and the children of this marriage are to be expelled, while the wife is permitted to remain in Austria. After mature deliberation, however, the government has decided to consider the grandchildren of mixed marriages as being not of Jewish origin, but Aryan. Thus if a Christian has married a Jewess the children will be expelled, but the grandchildren may remain in the country, provided that their parents have not mixed again with Jewish blood. This, however, is absolutely the only concession made by the law; no other exceptions can be permitted. We have received requests from many quarters to provide for certain exemptions, that, for example, the law should not apply to people who have passed a certain age, to invalids, and to Jews who have performed special services for the state.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Had I listened to such counsel the whole law would have become a farce. Jewish money and influence would have worked day and night, tens of thousands of exceptional cases would have been fabricated, and fifty years from now we would be in exactly the same position as today. No! There will be no preference, no exception, no pity, no passive collusion. The government will place splendid hospital trains at the disposal of the sick and infirm; and only those Jews whom a medico-judicial investigation finds absolutely incapable of transportation will be permitted to await their recovery or death here.”

Dr. Schwertfeger bowed slightly and sank heavily into his chair. But his last pronouncement had had a peculiar effect. Only a few cheers came from the audience; a distinct, almost palpable cloud of uneasiness hung over the house; many faces reflected unmistakable terror and anxiety; there was some disturbance in the gallery, and a woman shrieking, “My children!” fell in a swoon. And though thunderous applause followed the Chancellor’s speech, yet the little group of Social-Democrats shouted in unison: “Shocking! Shameful! An outrage!”

And now the red-bearded Presiding Officer gave the floor to Professor Trumm, the Finance Minister. He was a small man, dry and shrivelled as a prune, endowed with a treble voice; and his speech suffered occasional interruptions that served to free his tongue when it became caught between his gums and the upper edge of his dental plate. He discussed the financial aspects of the expulsion law before a deeply interested house. The redemption of Jewish concerns and real estate would make heavy drains not only on the private capital of the Christians but on the finances of the state as well. Thousands of billions of kronen would barely suffice; and it had to be recognized that one of the first results of the expulsion of the Jews would be all sorts of financial difficulties.

“But, heaven be praised,” here the Finance Minister crossed himself, “we will not stand alone in the dark days to come! I bring to the House the joyful tidings that the true Christians of all the world have united to help us. Not only has the Austrian government conducted international negotiations for months, but the Pius Association has been making unobtrusive but effective propaganda that is bearing splendid fruit. The League of the Active Christians of the Scandinavian Countries, whose members include many powerful bankers and merchants, places at our disposal great credits in Danish, Swedish, and Norwegian money. The American industrial king, Jonathan Huxtable, one of the richest men of the world and a zealous champion of Christianity, has declared his readiness to invest twenty million dollars in Austria. The Christian League of France is mobilizing a hundred million francs,—in short, billions of kronen will have to be sent out of the country to let in a flood of billions in gold!”

Tremendous enthusiasm throughout the house. Several dozen deputies, hurriedly leaving their seats, dashed to the telephones to give their banks orders to sell foreign money. The switchboard could hardly manage the rush of calls for “Karpeles & Co.,” “Veilchenfeld & Son,” “Rosenstrauch & Butterfrass,” “Kohn, Cohn, & Kohen” and all the rest of the great banking-houses. And while the Finance Minister, who had wasted an entire minute to free his imprisoned tongue, went on with his speech, Holborn, the Englishman, grinned as he told the other newspapermen:

“Jonathan Huxtable is a fine fellow! He’s been raving and ranting against the Jews ever since his wife eloped with a Jewish prize fighter. He’s a strict prohibitionist, but he gets drunk every day on a cordial he buys from his druggist. Drinking a whole bottle of Eau de Cologne in one breath is said to be nothing unusual for him. And if he’s going to invest twenty million dollars here, he surely expects to make fifty.”

Dr. Wiesel’s face expressed disapproval, while the Jewish reporters quickly took down notes for some last malicious items.

Speakers, pro and con, came forward. The Social-Democrats attacked the law; but when Weitherz, their leader, in calm and measured terms expressed his indignation and called the proposed measure a disgrace to humanity, a terrific uproar arose, the galleries threw keys and crumpled paper at the Social-Democrats, a fist fight ensued, and the small opposition left the hall under protest. Pastor Zweibacher lauded Dr. Schwertfeger as a modern apostle who deserved canonization; the Pan-German deputies Wondratschek and Jiratschek, however, discussed the law from the racial point of view only, and Jiratschek, who spoke with a pronounced Bohemian accent, wept with emotion and closed with the words: “Wotan is among us!”

The last speaker, received with cries of “Hep! Hep!” and jeering “Ai-wai” calls, was the solitary Zionist deputy, the engineer Minkus Wassertrilling. With folded arms the tall, slender, handsome young man waited until order was restored, and then said:

“My dear disciples of the Jew who, in order to save humanity, was foolish enough to let himself be crucified!”

Vehement interjections of “Throw out the Jews!”

“Yes, gentlemen, I join your cry of ‘Throw out the Jews!’ And I will gladly cast my vote in favor of this law. We Zionists welcome it, for it falls in line with all our aims and tendencies. About half of the five hundred thousand Jews expelled by this law will unite under the Zionist standard, and I know that the others will be received with open arms in France and England, Italy and America, Spain and the Balkan countries. I am not worried about the fate of my people—what your spiteful malice and stupidity intend as a curse will become a blessing.”

The hooting that again broke out drowned the rest of his speech, and finally the Zionist also was pushed out of the hall.

When the roll was called, therefore, the law was passed unanimously; and that same day it was rushed through the committee and the second and third readings.

Late at night, when the deputies were at last able to leave the hall, they saw Vienna illuminated for a celebration. Red and white flags waved over all the public buildings, fireworks were displayed, and until long after midnight processions marched past the Chancellor’s palace to cheer Dr. Schwertfeger and extol him as the liberator of Austria.

CHAPTER II.
HERR SCHNEUZEL AND HIS SON-IN-LAW

The next morning—it was a Sunday—Antonius Schneuzel, member of the National Assembly, the Municipal Council, the Board of Overseers of the Poor, and the Board of Trade, appeared at the family breakfast table a good deal the worse for his zealous celebration of the victory; and immediately he sensed trouble in the air. His wife’s nose seemed longer than ever—a signal of approaching storm; the eyes of his daughter, Frau Corroni, were swollen; her husband, the young business man Alois Corroni, greeted his father-in-law with an impudent and scornful smile; and when Herr Schneuzel, worried and confused, let his little eyes rove about the table, his two grandchildren, Lintschi and Hansl, burst into a fearful howl.

“Why, what in the world is the matter?”

Frau Schneuzel held her arms akimbo.

“What’s the matter, you idiot? Nothing’s the matter, except that you, you old fool, have helped drive your daughter and your grandchildren out of the country!”

“Why, how in the world—” stammered Herr Schneuzel. But the horrible truth began to dawn upon him. Quite right,—in the course of the years he had entirely forgotten that in his early youth his son-in-law, Herr Alois Corroni, had borne the name of Sami Cohn,—that he had been able to stand on his own feet when he was received into the arms of the Church. And now he would have to get out, and with him would go the children, who were of Jewish origin!

“It’s a mean trick,” Frau Corroni sobbed into her handkerchief. “What’ll I do with the children now? Perhaps you want me to emigrate to Jerusalem, you unnatural father, you?”

“It really is going a little too far,” Herr Corroni now declared, emphasizing every word, “to chase a man of my sort out of the country like a mad dog. I dare say I am at least as good a Christian as a thousand others who spend all day in the barroom.—To drive out a man like me, whose children are growing up in the Christian faith!”

Herr Schneuzel wanted to reply, and muttered something about a great and sacred cause, about principles that could give no consideration to individual cases. But no sooner had he begun than he felt his spouse seizing him by his thin hair; nor did she relax her grip before she had pulled out a good handful of the ever scantier foliage.

“Imbeciles, that’s what you are, all of you! You can go to the devil, you and your Christianity! Hasn’t Loisl always been good to our Annerl? Didn’t he give her a muskrat coat, doesn’t he raise the children like princes? You should thank God she got a Jew, and not a fellow like you, a drunkard and rowdy!”

“I ain’t a-goin’ to Jerusalem,” Lintschi now wailed, while Hans grasped the opportunity to snatch the sugar roll from grandfather’s plate.

When the uproar was at its height Pepik, the cook, came in, resolutely cleared the table, and calmly announced:

“I’m goin’! I’m goin’ to marry my Isidor, as is a clerk in the co-op’rative store, an’ if he has to get out I’ll get out with him. I wouldn’t care if the dep’ties and the Chancer would all hang theirselves.”

After the excitement had died down Herr Corroni gave a calm exposition of the situation.

“Of course I’m not even dreaming of emigrating to Palestine, if for no other reason than that they wouldn’t let me in, since I’m a converted Jew. No; I have a brother in Hamburg,—Uncle Eduard, you know; and though he is angry with me because of my conversion, he won’t leave me in the lurch now. Jews don’t forget family ties, thank God,” (these words were punctuated by a cutting glance at Schneuzel). “And there I will build up a new future for myself and my family—unless Annerl would prefer to stay with you.”

Whereupon Frau Anna, tired and faded as is usual after fifteen years of married life, suddenly recovered the pink cheeks of her youth, and, fondly throwing her arms about the neck of Alois Corroni, (née Sami Cohn), kissed him as a bride kisses her bridegroom, and really looked like a girl again. And finally Herr Schneuzel, desperate and altogether upset, had to promise to give his son-in-law a million to take along to Hamburg as a sort of cornerstone for his new future.

In the afternoon Schneuzel, member of the National Assembly, the Municipal Council, and the Board of Overseers of the Poor, went alone to a Sievering bar, and began to fight with a crowd that was still shouting “Throw out the Jews!” And he broke his bottle over the head of one of the shouting celebrants, wherefor he received a most terrible thrashing.

CHAPTER III.
AT CLOSING TIME

A talk in a niche beside a window of the Café Wögerer, opposite the Stock Exchange, between Herr Strauss, proprietor of a banking house, and his nephew, Siegfried Steiner, a medical student. Similar conversations were taking place at every table; and on this day, far from being boisterous, they were carried on almost inaudibly, with much gesturing.

The young man was shaking his uncle’s hand.

“I thank you, dear Uncle, for promising to take me to London with you. That’s a great consolation for me, for, between ourselves—Jerusalem—never! Not for me! Nothing but Jews—I can’t imagine it!”

The uncle smiled a slow smile. “I don’t give a rap about Jerusalem myself. In London I’ll go into partnership with my old friend Moe Seegward, who has a fine brokerage house there.”

Siegfried Steiner leaned forward and whispered: “I’d like to know one thing, Uncle. You surely didn’t enter the actual amount of your fortune and income in your tax report. So how are you going to get your money over there, considering that since yesterday all our letters are being censored?”

The uncle let the ashes of his cigar fall on his vest.

“Chammer! Why does one have Christian friends? I went to see Schuster, the manufacturer, today; and, confidentially I gave him a billion in securities and cash, for which he gave me a draft on a London bank. Of course the ganef doesn’t do it for nothing, but makes quite a bit on this transaction.”

The nephew nodded with satisfaction; and at thirty other tables various other conversations also ended with nods of satisfaction.

An old Jew in a caftan, and with cork-screw curls, came in and went from table to table, repeating his little speech: “Give alms to an old Jew who lost everything he had in the Lemberg pogrom!”

Someone called from one of the tables: “Tell me, old man, where’ll you go now?”

The old fellow wagged his head. “Herrleben, if I could get out of the burning Lemberg Ghetto and reach Vienna, I guess I’ll find some place to go to from Vienna. It’s all the same to me whether I schnorr in Vienna, or Berlin, or Paris. Only I won’t talk about the pogrom any more, but I’ll tell ’em how they threw out an old Jew like me.—Tell me, Herrleben, do you think it’s good to buy Siemens before the Exchange closes?”

CHAPTER IV.
A SHOT

A group of friends had gathered in the villa of Herbert Villoner, the author, in Alt-Aussee. Well-known men of letters, painters, sculptors, musicians, publishers. As a rule they went to the country resorts only after the summer had reached its height; but this year they had fled from the city in June, to escape as much as possible of the filthy spray of Viennese politics.

The evening meal was over. They were sitting on the terrace, leaning back in their wicker chairs; the lovely lake lay below, mirroring the moon—into the motionless air curled wreaths of cigarette smoke. Everyone was absorbed with his own thoughts, until Villoner broke the profound silence.

“So there is no doubt that most of us are spending our last summer in Aussee, and will have to shake the dust from our feet and proceed into foreign lands like vagabonds. Odd, isn’t it? My father, a famous physician who contributed not a little to the fame of the Viennese medical school—my grandfather, a merchant of Mariahilf whose family had long been resident there—and myself. Well, they say that my dramas and novels express the essence of Viennese life, that no one has matched my knowledge and descriptions of Viennese youth and the gay young thing. But now all this counts for nothing—I am merely an alien Jew, and must get out like some Galician refugee washed into Vienna on a tide of speculation.”

“Still,” Max Seider, a young poet, said in a low, quivering voice, “you will be able to feel at home even when you are far away from your ungrateful native land. Berlin will receive you with open arms, the intellectuals there are already planning to honor you. You are so strong and mature that you will be able to produce great works wherever you may be. But what can I do? I am only at the beginning, I can live and work only when I stroll through the green Wienerwald, when the graceful outline of the Kahlenberg shows me my way. From them an inexhaustible fountain of life flows forth. I must labor and struggle for every line, for every stanza—I can do this only in Vienna.”

“Nonsense,” Wallner, a composer, exclaimed angrily. “The devil take your Vienna and all the blockheads in it! I’m going to the South of Germany, where I’ll rent a little house in the Black Forest and live like a lord with my Lene. Won’t we, darling?”

The fair-haired young woman suffered her husband to lay her Madonna-like little head on his shoulder; but the shadow of a malicious smile hovered on her voluptuous lips as she exchanged a significant glance with the playwright Walter Haberer. The breast of the latter swelled with triumph. He knew that the composer’s wife would stay there—no one could force her to accompany her husband into exile. And they had agreed that when the husband would at last be out of the way she would become his.—But not only she,—all Vienna, all Austria would be his! For all those who had pushed him into the background, all those whose plays were being produced while his grew mouldy in the pigeon-holes of the directors’ desks—all of them, Villoner and Seider, Hoff and Thal, Meier and Marich, all would have to go away and leave him to rule the realm of the Muses.

Frau Lene nodded and smiled at him while her husband lovingly stroked her cheek.

With a thunderous roar of laughter Armin Horch, the great actor, burst forth:

“Gentlemen, now it must be told! I, too, will have to leave Austria! For I, whom the Wehr and other papers have always extolled as the ideal of Aryan beauty,—I must confess to my Jewish descent. My father came from Brody, and his name was not Horch, but Storch!”

Peals of laughter broke out, the mirth became boundless, appropriate anecdotes were told.

“And you, Herr Pinkus—where will you transfer your publishing house?” someone asked the stout little publisher with the bowed legs and the unmistakably Jewish features.

“I? I stay here! Don’t you know that I’m a genuine Christian?”

And when everybody laughed he said, with a serene smile:

“All jokes aside, I am an unadulterated goy! My grandfather, Amsel Pinkus, was a cloth dealer in Frankfurt am Main, and a good, pious Jew. But when he fell in love with my grandmother, Christine Haberle, a little singer of Stuttgart, he became converted, as she wouldn’t marry him otherwise. Well, my father also married a Christian girl, so that I’m a third-generation Christian; and therefore I won’t be expelled, although I look and act exactly like my grandfather.”

“Long live Pinkus, the Christian,” merrily cried the host, and, laughing, all raised their glasses. Just then, like the lash of a whip, a report sounded from the lake. And Villoner, filled with a strange premonition, cried: “Where is Seider?”

But people were already bringing up the body of the young poet. He had shot himself, down there beside the lake, so that his sensitive, weary soul would not have to starve in a foreign land.

CHAPTER V.
GIRLS AMONG THEMSELVES

Panic prevailed in Lona’s house, in the Gumpendorferstrasse. Eight young ladies, all superlatively beautiful, had already gathered there, and still the stout housekeeper, Frau Kathi Schoberlechner, had to open the door again and again to let in new arrivals.

The drawing-room was permeated with a strong aroma of Houbigant, Ambre, Coty Rouge, and cigarettes; golden, red, chestnut and dusky heads, diamonds and pearls shone and glittered. All were dressed in silks and laces, only Lona wore a fragrant negligée, open in front so that her snow-white bosom almost burst forth; and her stockingless feet were encased in little red mules.

Black-haired Yvonne wept as if her heart would break, while red-headed Margit pounded on the table and cried angrily:

“We got to protes’! If I ever get hold o’ one o’ them dep’ties, I’ll scratch ’is eyes out for ’im!”

“Wotta dirty trick! W’at they expec’ us to do w’en they throw out the Jews?”

Yvonne wept more passionately. “An’ jus’ now, w’en Fredi Pollak jus’ ordered a new car for me.”

“I’m gettin’ ten million a month from Reizes, w’at I been goin’ with fer two weeks. I’d like to know if them Christian gents’ll be so free with their money?”

“Y’know, I got that Zwitterbauch from Mährisch-Ostrau, w’at keeps me altogether, and comes to Vienna on’y for a week outa ev’ry month!”

A voluptuous golden-haired Juno crossed her beautiful though rather thick-set legs so that her blue silk garters peeped out, drank a little glass of cointreau, and said in a resonant alto:

“Children, I think I’ve had more experience than all the rest of you put together. And all I can say is that after the Jews are gone we’ll either have to starve or look around for jobs as cloak-room maids in the cafés. Only the Jews leave money behind ’em—the rest of ’em all want a lot of loving and no expense! I went with Baron Stummerl, of the Foreign Office, for ten years—and in those ten years he gave me a gold bracelet, a fur neckpiece, and a thousand gulden. I was lucky I had Herschmann of the Anglobank at the same time, or I might actually have had to go to work. Since then I’ve gone in for Jews only!”

Nervously Claire toyed with the diamond-studded gold cross she wore on a platinum chain. “Wonder what Karl’ll say when I stop gettin’ things from Dr. Baruch!”

New plaints arose, wails filled the air. In the excitement of recent events they had not thought of this: What would become of the friends they loved and supported, after the friends who paid would be gone?

Just then Frau Kathi ushered in one of these friends.—Pepi represented the ideal of the well-dressed man. Impeccable from his soft gray velvet hat and his hand-knit tie to his tan oxfords and the dark blue silk socks.

Sobbing, the charming black-haired Yvonne fell into the arms of her beloved. All greeted him noisily,—he was pelted with a shower of calls and questions. Calmly Pepi sank back into an armchair, took Yvonne on his knee, pinched the naked calves of Lona, (who sat beside him), and, after permitting the girls to put a cigarette into his mouth, observed:

“There’s nothing to do, my dears, but leave the country, too!”

“Yes,” countered clever, golden-haired Carola, “but where’ll you get your passport, and who’ll let you in?”

“Very simple,” laughed Pepi. “Tomorrow I’ll go to the City Hall, and renounce all religious affiliations. The day after I go to the Jewish synagogue, assure the Hebrew race of my staunch support, and become a Jew—without the operation, I hope. Then we’ll get married, take the money that’s coming to us from the government, and settle down somewhere else, as provided by the League of Nations. We’ll go to Paris, or Brussels, or some other place where things are lively.”

Yvonne laughed through her tears. “Go on! What’ll I do in Paris after I’m married?”

“Silly! No one’ll have to know we’re married! You rent a flat, find a friend who’ll keep you, and I’ll take care of your heart as always.”

During the next few days the liberal papers reported that hundreds of valiant Christian youths, indignant at the injustice done the Jews, had demonstratively determined on their conversion to the Jewish faith, that they might share the fate of the sorely tried people of Israel.

CHAPTER VI.
DR. SCHWERTFEGER

On a warm September day the Chancellor—who, being also the Minister for Foreign Affairs, resided in the Foreign Office—stood on his balcony and, looking past the street, watched the doings in the public park. But the movement there seemed less animated than in past years,—only a few white-enameled baby carriages rolled over the paths, and in spite of the mild weather the chairs and benches were almost unoccupied.

Someone knocked at the door. Sharply the Chancellor called “Come in!” and his departmental chief, Dr. Fronz, entered.

At the end of June, shortly after the passage of the expulsion law, Schwertfeger had gone to the Tyrol to recuperate after the nervous strain of the great responsibility and hard work of the previous weeks. For more than two months he lived incognito in a village near the Arlberg. Except for his departmental chief no one knew his whereabouts; he permitted no letters or reports to be sent to him, paid no attention to current events, and let Fronz write him only of unusually important occurrences. As a matter of fact, everything had been provided for: The chief of the Viennese police and the captains of the various districts had received precise instructions, and Parliament had adjourned until autumn. Therefore Dr. Schwertfeger felt that he could be dispensed with, and considered it his duty to gather new strength and energy for the tasks to come. He had returned to Vienna this morning; and now Fronz was to give him a detailed report. After various departmental matters had been disposed of, Schwertfeger, with a thud, sat down before his desk, took pen and paper for stenographic notes, and, seeming very calm and cool though his every nerve was vibrating with excitement, said:

“Now, dear friend, tell me about the execution and visible results of the new law so far. How is our financial situation? I’m entirely in the dark, you know.”

Dr. Fronz cleared his throat, and began:

“Financially, things aren’t running as smoothly as we had hoped. At first the krone rose by leaps and bounds to the hundredth part of a centime in Zurich; then there were some slight though insignificant fluctuations, and since the end of July the krone has not progressed, but is remaining stationary, in spite of the enormous influx of gold from the treasuries of the great Christian associations and of the banker Huxtable. Strangely enough, our hopes for large payments from the exiles have not materialized as yet. No considerable amounts in either kronen or foreign securities are gravitating toward the revenue offices. It seems that our Christian fellow-citizens include thousands of parasites who unscrupulously take over the excess property of the Jews, taxes on which had been withheld fraudulently; and in return they give the Jews cheques on foreign banks.”

“That was only to be expected,” said the Chancellor, a contemptuous smile playing on his compressed lips. “All of them, Jew and Christian, are selfish and grasping!”

“The Jew papers mustn’t hear that,” thought Fronz as he continued:

“As I may conclude from the extremely pessimistic report of our Finance Minister, Professor Trumm, the expulsion of the Jews will burden us with enormous debts, payable in gold, while the circulation of our bank-notes will not be diminished to any appreciable extent.”

“Is everything going smoothly in the liquidation and taking over of the financial houses, banks, and corporations?”

“In this connection everything is in full swing; but unfortunately it seems that our native capitalists are either unwilling or unable to take over the large undertakings, so that the overwhelming majority of the new entrepreneurs are foreigners. Already the Länderbank, the Kreditanstalt, the Anglobank, the Escompte-Gesellschaft, and other great banks have fallen into the hands of Italians, Englishmen, Frenchmen, Czechoslovaks, and the like, as have also our great industrial enterprises. Only today a Dutch syndicate has taken over the Simmering locomotive factory. Of course we’re devilish careful that no foreign Jews worm themselves into the country in this way, and every sale contract emphasizes the clause that denies the privilege of either temporary or permanent sojourn in Austria to foreign Jews also. But there is no way of preventing Jews from being included among the stockholders and directors of the foreign companies which are buying up our corporations.”

The Chancellor rested his massive round forehead on his bony hand; with a wave of his hand he dismissed all unpleasant thoughts, and said evenly:

“Transitory manifestations, which will take care of themselves later. How is the expulsion going on?”

“Exactly as provided by the law. Both the police and the railway bureau are doing excellent work; an average of ten trains full of exiles leaves Austria every day, going in all directions; and so far about four hundred thousand Jews have left the country.”

Schwertfeger looked up in amazement. “How can that be? We had intended to exile about half a million. And now, when only a third of the calculated time has passed, we are through with four-fifths of them?”

Dr. Fronz smiled feebly. “We underestimated the great number of converts and of people of Jewish extraction. Today the state police, having a better view of the situation, no longer count with half a million, but with eight hundred thousand, perhaps even a million persons who are subject to the law. I might mention, incidentally, that the expulsion has had some untoward consequences, frequently very unpleasant, sometimes merely grotesque. Ten Christian-Social deputies had to be expelled as being of Jewish origin; almost a third of the Christian newspapermen were affected either directly or through members of their families. It has developed that our best Christian citizens are steeped in Israel—our oldest families are being torn apart. Indeed, there has occurred something that has made us the laughing-stock of not only the Jewish papers, which of course will badger us to the last minute, but of the foreign press as well. A sister of the princely Archbishop of Austria, Cardinal Rössl, is married to a Jew, and his brother to a Jewess, so that the law robs His Eminence of his closest relatives, including all his nieces and nephews! Perhaps it would be advisable, under these circumstances, to submit to the National Assembly an amendment to the law, providing that in certain cases persons of Jewish origin be permitted to stay....”

The Chancellor sprang to his feet and brought down his fist on the desk with such violence that the ink spattered out from its container.

“Never! Never, while I am in office. The granting of any such exceptions would make the entire law a universal joke, international Jewry would celebrate an unprecedented triumph, and all doors would be opened wide to corruption and bribery. You know our regional and government clerks with their open hands and empty pockets! No, there can be no exceptions, the grief of individual families may not shake the foundations of the law! The war that we waged in the name of the Hapsburgs cost a million lives—and no one dared say a word. Compared to that, what is a little inconvenience or vexation for a few thousand, or a hundred thousand persons? I will ask you to instruct the Christian papers accordingly. Better still, let the political press bureau immediately send out a statement on this to the papers. And I beg you never again to let yourself become the vehicle for such suggestions!”

Paling, Dr. Fronz bowed.

“Then it would be superfluous for me to tell Your Excellency of the terribly pitiful scenes that occur every day at the departure of the evacuation trains—scenes which often become so heart-rending that even the mob, gathered about the outgoing trains to abuse the exiles, is moved to silence and tears.”

“Such scenes were foreseen, and are inevitable! Let the police be instructed immediately to shut off the railroad stations, arrange that wherever possible the trains should leave at night, and see to it that the main stations should not be used, but only the shunting stations outside the city. And now one more question: How do people in general view the execution of the law?”

“With tremendous enthusiasm, of course. The police are having a hundred clever plain-clothes men mingle in the crowds and make observations. And they are unanimous in reporting that the Christian population is actually delirious with joy, and is expecting an early change for the better in general conditions, a decrease in the price of food, and a more equalized distribution of wealth. Even among the working-men who are still organized as Social-Democrats there is great satisfaction with the exodus of the Jews. On the other hand, however, it cannot be denied that the populace is excited and uncertain. No one knows what the future will bring, the masses live from hand to mouth, there is amazing extravagance among the lower classes, and intoxication is increasing from day to day.

“An important factor in the prevalent high spirits is the sudden end of the housing shortage. Since the beginning of July forty thousand apartments, hitherto occupied by Jews, have been vacated in Vienna alone. A direct result of this is a veritable flood of weddings,—the priests have to marry ten or twenty couples at a time.”

Schwertfeger, who was a bachelor, nodded and smiled with satisfaction. “I think we’ve done enough for today. Now that I have a more or less complete view of the situation I’ll settle down with the reports of the various ministries.”

A nod, and the departmental chief was dismissed. But Fronz remained in the room and, discreetly clearing his throat, regained the attention of the Chancellor, who had already opened one of his reports.

“I should like to inform Your Excellency that the Municipal Council of Vienna has decided, by a great majority, to change the name of the Schottenring to ‘Dr. Karl Schwertfeger Ring,’ and that a similar renaming of streets and squares has been resolved upon by three hundred other Austrian municipalities. In Innsbruck they have even organized a monument committee that expects to erect a marble monument to Your Excellency next year.”

The Chancellor rose, went over to the balcony, and again looked down on the park; furiously he paced twice through the large room before he said:

“Put a stop to all such tributes! Let them be postponed until we celebrate the tenth anniversary of the liberation of Vienna from the Jews!”

CHAPTER VII.
A MIDDLE-CLASS VIENNESE HOME

Christmas Eve in the home of Hofrat Franz Spineder. The little yellow brick house, which the Hofrat had inherited from his grandfather, lay far out in Grinzing, beyond the end of the tramway line. Viewed from the outside the one-story house with a high gate of green-painted wood and the green shades looked almost primitive; but when one opened the gate and saw the courtyard with its old-fashioned pump, one stopped short, amazed and delighted. The courtyard gradually developed into a gently sloping garden that seemed almost endless. In the summer wall-flowers, tulips, roses, and carnations shone in southern splendor,—behind the ornamental garden hundreds of trees were bowed to the ground under their burden of apples, pears, apricots, plums, and cherries. But the orchard was not the end of the garden, which rose steeply through a vineyard to a little Old Viennese summer-house with multicolored windows, perched on the crest of the hill.

Enchanting as the unsuspected garden, were the furnishings of the living-room. Ancient, comfortable, stiff and graceful furniture of the Baroque, Congress, and Biedermeier periods, valuable etchings and paintings on the walls, two genuine Waldmüllers, a Schwind in the drawing-room, beautiful glassware of many colors, Old Viennese porcelain, sparkling silver in glass cases and on the side-board,—one only had to close one’s eyes to see men and women in the costume of Maria Theresa’s time and in the Biedermeier coat.

Franz Spineder was a government official, as his father and grandfather had been before him; however, he was not dependent on his salary from the Ministry of Education, but possessed considerable private means. Even the house with its enormous garden and its valuable furnishings represented millions at the current rate. Besides, his wife came of the Halbhuber family, whose remote ancestors had amassed great wealth as tanners and manufacturers of leather goods. And as the Spineders now had only one child, Lotte, who was just eighteen, they could live comfortably in spite of the high prices and the confusion of the times.

Silently Lotte and Frau Spineder decorated the Christmas tree, attached chocolate cookies, candies, glass balls, and candles to the fragrant boughs. Frau Spineder, a plump, still pretty woman, cast a side-long glance toward her slender, blonde, strikingly beautiful and charming daughter.

“Lotte! Now you’ve tears in your eyes again! Think of Papa—tonight, at least, he wants to see cheerful faces! And don’t make poor Leo’s heart any heavier!”

Lotte dropped a little chocolate chimney-sweep so that his head broke off; covering her face with her hands, she leaned on her mother’s shoulder and began to sob bitterly.

“My heart’s breaking, Mother! You’ll see, I won’t survive Leo’s having to leave the country! Please, Mother—let me go with him!”

Tenderly Frau Spineder, whose eyes also were moist, stroked the soft, shimmering golden hair of her daughter.

“You can’t do it, Lotte! Remember—Papa is sixty, and since that dreadful war took our son he has only you. You can’t expect him to let you go out into an uncertain future, however fond he is of Leo. Just think: Leo is going to Paris; with the depreciation of the krone we couldn’t possibly support you with francs, and you might come to want without Papa’s being able to help you. But if he’s alone Leo will make his way, and you’re both still so young that you can wait for better times. Now hush—Father’s coming! And the bell’s ringing—that must be Leo.”

Herr Spineder, who now came into the room to light the candles, was typical of the old Austrian Hofrat at his best. Fond of music and a skilled instrumentalist, highly cultured, well groomed without and within, always seeking beauty, loving life and affirming it, just, conscientious, and tolerant—yet a little narrow-minded, cautious and hesitant. He still wore his beard in the antiquated fashion of Francis Joseph, for he considered it beneath his dignity to make any concession on his person to the new conditions. Though he was a Democrat through and through, and a loyal servant to the Republic, Angeli’s beautiful portrait of the Emperor still hung over his desk. As he entered the room now the old gentleman with his snow-white hair and his gentle grayish-blue eyes represented the genuine Old Austrian whom we soon will know only from books.

“Leo is outside, scraping off the snow from his shoes,” said Herr Spineder as he slowly lighted the candles. “Go out to him—I’ll prepare the presents, and ring when I’m ready.”

Frau Spineder paid a brief visit to the kitchen to look after her carp, cake, and apple-fritters; but Lotte, throwing her arms about Leo’s neck, was weeping silently on his breast.

Leo Strakosch—slender, dark-haired, and smooth-shaven, with sparkling brown eyes that flashed forth wit and humor—was ten years older than Lotte. During the last year of the war he had entered the army for his year’s service, and at the front had met Rudolf Spineder, the Hofrat’s son; soon the young men, who were of the same age, were fast friends. In the last battle of the Piave Rudolf had been wounded in the head and had breathed out his young life in the arms of his friend—but only after begging him to convey a last message to his parents and little sister. This is how Leo had come into the house of the Spineders; and the poor son of a petty commission-agent felt entirely at home in the cultured bourgeois atmosphere. When Lotte grew from childhood into beautiful blooming girlhood, he determined: “This one, or none!” And Lotte returned the love of the bright, clever, talented young man with all her heart.

Herr Spineder had no objections as he watched the development of this love. Leo Strakosch was an etcher, quite extraordinarily successful in spite of his youth; people were beginning to fight over his pictures, and a Leo Strakosch Album, which had appeared about a year before, was even being noticed abroad. Both the Hofrat and his wife rightly admitted to themselves that they could put their child in no better hands than Leo’s, whom they gradually came to love as their own son. The fact that Leo was a Jew did not in the least perturb Herr Spineder. His house was a rendezvous for many musicians, authors and painters, the majority of whom were Jews; and the late attorney Viktor Rosen had even been Spineder’s closest friend.

A year before, when political circles were just beginning to whisper about the plan of the Christian-Socialist leader to put through an anti-Jewish law, Herr Spineder was unwilling and unable to believe that such a thing could be done. And when events forced him to believe it his indignation knew no bounds. Greater still was his sorrow over the blow that Leo’s imminent expulsion would be for his daughter. But he rejected unconditionally the thought of permitting his Lotte to join Leo in his exile; for here his love for his only child and the egoism of age united to make him absolutely inflexible.

Christmas presents were plentiful; Lotte’s parents had been generous, yet she scarcely glanced at the fur scarf, silk stockings, books, and music, but constantly pressed to her trembling lips the little picture of Leo, encased in a gold locket, which he had given her. Now they were all seated about the holiday table, but the mood was mournful rather than festive, and Herr Spineder’s efforts to carry on a light conversation met with failure. When the home-made golden wine was poured out, Herr Spineder raised his glass and said, with deep feeling:

“Your health, Leo! May good fortune be with you abroad, and may fate bring us all together again before long! I know that you are angry with me, children,—but I can’t do anything except suffer with you. You see, Mother and I have the best part of our lives behind us—I’m on the threshold of old age; so it’s only natural for us to resist with every fibre of our being the departure of the last sunbeam that shines for us. But even if we were capable of such almost superhuman selflessness my sense of duty would not permit it. Were we living in normal times I would let you go, and would say that after all we could spend a couple of months with you in Paris every year. But today, when the krone is almost worthless, that is impossible. Only speculators can indulge in such luxury today; and you know that although we live well and comfortably we nonetheless must count with every thousand-kronen bill. If Lotte were to go abroad with you now she would lose her home forever. And not only she, but your children, too, would be homeless exiles, wouldn’t know the soil in which their grandparents are buried. And—who knows?—perhaps the day would come when you, Lotte, would be seized with such homesickness that it would crowd out your love for your husband, and your entire being would become embittered with reproach of him whom you followed into exile. You are young, both of you. You, Lotte, are almost a child—you, Leo, a youth; and your whole life lies before you. Let a few years pass. Then, perhaps, you will have grown apart—or there will be new developments that will unite you again.”

While Lotte and her mother wept inconsolably, Leo, too, raised his glass:

“Father—I suppose I may still call you by that name—I must respect your reasons for refusing to let Lotte go with me; I’d probably do the same if I were in your place. But there is one thing I must say to you, and to Lotte, whom I will always love: From now on my life will be one great struggle! My people is said to possess tenacity—well, I will unite all the faculties of my race in myself. With my brain and my heart, with all my power and all my will I shall work to win Lotte, by fair means or foul! They may drive me out like a mangy dog, but they cannot kill my will-power! And I drink to your health and to our reunion, which will come sooner than any of us dares hope today.”

The next day Leo Strakosch left the country on a train occupied mostly by intellectual workers and artists. The Hofrat, Frau Spineder, and Lotte saw him off. Except for them Leo left no dear ones behind him, for his parents had died long before.

CHAPTER VIII.
“MY DEAR CHRISTIANS!”

For Vienna the last day of this year was a holiday unparalleled in the history of that gay and carefree city. By mobilizing all means of transportation, by borrowing locomotives from neighboring countries, and by interrupting all other traffic the authorities had succeeded on that day in sending out the last Jews, in thirty enormous trains. In the forenoon the directors and high officials of the great banks went away, at noon the Jewish journalists and their families. They had stayed to the last second, had composed and edited the evening papers, and had let the new masters take possession of the editorial rooms only after the damp sheets had begun to fly out from the whirling presses. Most of the Viennese journalists had found positions on papers in Germany proper, or on German papers in Czechoslovakia; many were emigrating to America; and a few had decided to turn to other professions.—However, the publisher of the great Weltpresse, together with a small staff of collaborators, was moving to London, where he intended to publish a German weekly, to be called Im Exil, which would concern itself primarily with Austria.

At one o’clock in the afternoon whistles proclaimed that the last trainload of Jews had left Vienna, and at six o’clock in the evening all the church bells rang to announce that there were no more Jews in all Austria.

Then Vienna began to celebrate its great festival of emancipation. Red and white striped flags fluttered over a hundred thousand roofs, all the shops were decorated with these colors, Japanese lanterns burned before every window. On this frosty starlit night a million people walked over the creaking snow to form processions. Men, women, and children carried lanterns, the various district parades were headed by bands, loud rejoicing filled the air, and again and again there resounded the cry: “Long Live Christian Vienna!”

All the parades met at the City Hall. Fairy-like in its splendor, Meister Schmidt’s beautiful Gothic building shone as one enormous flame, fed by millions of electric lamps. On a platform the peerless Viennese Philharmonic Orchestra,—purged of Jews, and therefore somewhat diminished in numbers,—played popular airs, while the Male Choir of Vienna sang its best songs. The People’s Hall, the large space before the City Hall, and the Ring from the Schottentor to the Bellaria formed a solid human wall. And at eight o’clock it was no longer a cry, but a howl that rose again and again from a million throats and shook the air.

At last the great moment came. On the balcony appeared Mayor Karl Maria Laberl with Chancellor Schwertfeger. With his powerful voice, audible even at the opposite end of the square, the Chancellor began to speak—briefly, coolly, but all the more effectively:

“Fellow-citizens, a gigantic task has been completed. Everyone who is not Austrian at heart has left the territory of our small but beautiful country. Now we are alone, a single family; henceforth we must depend on ourselves and our own peculiar qualities—with our own power will we now reorganize our clean house, will we brace up decaying walls and build up falling foundations. Citizens of Vienna and of our entire country! Today we are celebrating a holiday the like of which has never been seen before. Tomorrow marks the beginning of a new year, and of new life for all of us. Tomorrow we may still lean back and meditate. But then we must work as we never worked before. We must dedicate all our ability to our country—we must make the most of every hour. We must show all the world that Austria can live without the Jews. Nay, more—we must show that we will recover because we have removed the foreign element from our organism. In this solemn hour, fellow-citizens, you must promise me faithfully that we will no longer live only for today and its pleasures, but that we will work, work, and do nothing but work until the fruits of our labors have matured.”

“We promise!” roared the crowd; strangers shook each other’s hands, men and women wept and laughed in one another’s arms, someone sounded the new national hymn and was joined by the entire chorus. And then, spontaneously, there rose as from one throat the cheer: “Hail our Dr. Schwertfeger, the liberator of Austria!”

When the joyful shouting had subsided a little, Mayor Karl Maria Laberl finally had an opportunity to say something. He began his speech with the words:

“My dear Christians!...”

But the crowd did not hear much more, for the warm southwind that had been blowing through the previously ice-cold night was now followed by a shower. Screaming and shrieking, the mob dispersed, to hurry to the tramway lines through a sea of slush and melted snow.

PART TWO

CHAPTER I.
LOTTE SPINEDER TO LEO STRAKOSCH, 22 RUE FOCH, PARIS

“Just a year has passed, darling, since I stood in the West Station waving good-bye to you with my tear-soaked handkerchief. And the first Christmas that I have had to spend without you as your betrothed is over. It was very sad again, and Papa, quite worried, said that I would be sick and wretched if I continued giving way to my grief so much. I’m always very pale these days, sleep poorly, suffer much from headaches, and tire so easily. Our family physician thinks it’s anæmia, and prescribed Guber water for me, but I know that it’s only my longing for you that makes me weak and ill.

“I can’t tell you how happy I was over your wonderful album, which came in just on Christmas Eve. As anyone can see from these marvellous etchings, you’re a great artist now; Papa, who understands these things so well, says that you already are one of the great masters, and railed against our government, which drives such men out of the country instead of honoring them. Of course your letter, in which you tell of your great success, made me very happy, and Papa calculated that the thirty thousand francs which you got for this album amount to hundreds of millions of Austrian kronen. For the krone has again fallen very low. But when I read that you attend so many social functions, and can hardly manage your innumerable invitations to the best houses, my heart missed a beat. Won’t you forget your poor little Lotte, surrounded as you are by beautiful Parisian girls? Oh, what will become of us, Leo? When will I be able to put my head on your shoulder again? You know, Leo, the other day a big aeroplane flew westward over the Kahlenberg, and then I thought that if I only could I’d fly straight to Paris to you, whether my parents would consent or no. I’ll tell you—if I knew how to get a passport without anyone’s finding out about it, I’d let you send me the money, and would run away to you. I know that would hurt Papa and Mama terribly, but my longing for you is so great that I’ve become very wicked and cruel.

“You ask me to outline for you the state of affairs since the Jews are gone, as the colorless and boring Viennese papers don’t give you a real picture of conditions here. Well, I’ll try to tell you everything I see myself or hear from others; but you mustn’t laugh at me if it sounds silly.

“I suppose you read in the papers all about the great rejoicing and the many parades on last New Year’s Eve, after all the Jews had left Vienna and Austria. Well, this mood continued throughout January, everybody was cheerful, there was celebration after celebration, and again and again the people paraded before the City Hall or the Chancellor’s palace, to pay homage to Mayor Laberl or Dr. Schwertfeger. I noticed myself that the people in the tramway were much more pleasant and courteous than before, and Hofrat Tumpel, who comes to see us—you know, the one with the blond beard, whom you never liked—said triumphantly:

“‘You see, the sunny Viennese temperament, which was so long overshadowed by all the foreign elements, is coming to the fore again.’

“‘Fiddlesticks,’ growled Papa. ‘That’s only because the whole thing is a big picnic for the Viennese, and because victuals are cheaper and it’s possible to get apartments again.’ But Tumpel retorted: ‘Oh, no, my friend, that’s not all—the Indo-Germanic naíveté of our people is venturing out in the open again!’

“Food really had become much cheaper, for at that time our krone was very high. I remember Mama coming home very happily one day last winter, and telling us that it was possible to live again, as a pound of lard cost only about twenty thousand kronen. And the apartments brought much joy to the Viennese. Just imagine, suddenly almost every house displayed a sign offering apartments or furnished rooms for rent. People used to go from house to house looking at apartments merely to pass the time. And moving vans were rolling through the streets all day long.

“This lasted till Lent, but then the high spirits subsided. Suddenly there was much unemployment. The clothing industry was at a standstill—we’d hear of a new failure every minute. The papers said that the honest Christian merchants who had taken over the old Jewish concerns but were unable to cope with their task, should be subsidized by the state. But the unemployed raised a rumpus, paraded on the Ring, demolished a couple of stores, broke windows, and finally forced the state to pay them ten thousand kronen a day for the support of their families. Then the krone began to fall, for, as Papa explained, there was a tremendous increase in the circulation of bank-notes. Say what they would, the krone soon was lower than ever, and victuals became as expensive as before, if not more so. Today Mama told me, with much agitation, that butter has gone up to a hundred and fifty kronen. Since spring people have been sulky again, and there is much grumbling on the tram. Especially about the profiteers, who are pushing up all the prices—only, they don’t talk about Jewish profiteers, but in general.

“You want to know whether I go to the theatre often? Oh, no, dear Leo! Except for the opera there’s nothing whatever going on in the theatre. All the houses are continually playing Ganghofer and Anzengruber, for they’re not allowed to produce anything written by a Jew, and the classics don’t draw the crowds. For a while they played a good deal of Shaw; but since he declared in an English paper that Vienna has become an international exhibition of asininity, he is taboo. Especially because he also said that he prefers one intelligent Jew to ten stupid Christians. The musical comedy houses are all high and dry. (Do you remember how I laughed when I first heard you use that expression?) It developed, you see, that all of our musical comedies, old and new, were either written or composed by Jews, if not both. Besides, they are short of singers, as practically all the tenors had to emigrate. Of course a few one hundred per cent Aryan musical comedies were quickly manufactured, but the audience hissed them, for they were fearful trash. Hofrat Tumpel declared that it was because Christian art is suited only for serious things, not for such frivolous stuff. Whereupon Papa smiled and said that people would soon realize how well the Jews and Christians complemented each other in Austria.

“When I was in the Graben at noon the other day it struck me that one does not see nearly as many well-dressed men and women this year as formerly. People simply don’t indulge in fashions any more. I must admit, however, that I don’t at all miss the repulsive faces of the Jewish profiteers, which used to make you so angry, too. Their place is taken by a great many young fops who look like peasants and wear impossible clothes, and who infest the Drive with their enormous watch-chains and fat diamond-ringed fingers. Altogether it seems to me that nowadays all our transient visitors are peasants. Recently the owner of the Hotel Imperial complained in one of the papers that the guests he has these days go to bed without removing their hobnailed shoes, and wash their woolen underwear in the bathtubs. If you’d walk through the Kärtnerstrasse you’d be amazed at the lack of elegance in the stores today!—Now I must close, for it’s one o’clock in the morning, and I have nothing more of importance to say besides. Good-bye, my beloved, and invent some way of bringing us together soon—for otherwise I can’t live any more. Thousands and thousands of kisses from your disconsolate

Lotte.”

CHAPTER II.
ROUGH WOOLENS—THE LATEST STYLE

Silent, morose, with wrinkled brow Herr Habietnik walked through the luxurious salesrooms of the great department store in the Kärtnerstrasse—the store that had once been called Zwieback, but now bore the name of Wilhelm Habietnik. Herr Habietnik had been the head salesman in the ladies’ tailoring department, and during the great expulsion of the Jews he had succeeded, with the assistance of the Central German Savings Bank, in acquiring the business. Now, as we have said, Herr Habietnik wandered from room to room, exchanging a few words with every aisle manager; his countenance became more and more gloomy, and angry snorts escaped him. He paced without stopping through the pink and white infants’ wear department; he threw a furious glance into the beautiful but entirely deserted pastry shop; and then, rushing into his private office, he summoned his manager, Smetana.

“Look here, Herr Smetana, things can’t go on this way—something has to be done! Easter’s almost here; this used to be our busiest season, the store used to be so crowded that it was impossible to walk through it—and on my rounds today I found three old women, two of whom were hunting together for a chenille scarf that died out long ago, and the third for a cotton petticoat. If this is the best we can do we might as well shut up shop. Tell me, what’s the amount of our deficit since I’ve taken over the firm?”

The manager smiled wryly:

“Oh, I’d say about a billion—that should be fairly close to it.”

Herr Habietnik walked about the room in great agitation. “I don’t understand it! When the Jews were still here we had a lot of Christian customers, too! What’s become of them?”

Again Smetana, who had formerly occupied a desk in the bookkeeping department, where he had made out the bills, smiled.

“Our Christian trade never was anything to brag about, Herr Habietnik; and there always was a catch to those of our customers who really were Christians. They were either the wives or the mistresses of Jews. Let me remind you of the beautiful Countess Wurmdorf, the one who, at the very end, ordered a masquerade costume from us for a million and a half. Very good; but who paid it? Her husband, perhaps? Nothing of the sort! It was the wealthy Eisler, of Eisler and Breisler! And Manoni of the Opera, who’s the daughter of an honest-to-goodness Christian washwoman, and who left a hundred million in cold cash with us every year? Why, the entire Hebrew community had to contribute there! Then there’s....”

Herr Habietnik stopped him with a wave of his hand. “Nevertheless there were plenty of ladies who had no lovers and still bought quite a good deal. I know more about this for I was the head of the ladies’ tailoring department.”

“Yes. But you see, Herr Habietnik, even when they weren’t Jewish it was the competition of the Jewish women that helped us. When the Jewesses wore good, stylish clothes the Christian society women did not want to lag behind.”

“You may be right there,” the head admitted thoughtfully. “The other day I myself heard Frau Artander objecting to our prices, and saying, as she left without placing an order: ‘Oh, well—thank God we don’t need to dress up so much any more, or to take up every fashionable craze. I’ll simply have my old things made over.’”

The memory made Herr Habietnik’s blood boil—he brought down his fist on the table. “See here, I didn’t call you in for a friendly chat, but for advice! That’s what you get your high salary for!”

Smetana bowed. “I can give you an idea, Herr von Habietnik. People are going in for coarse woolens and other durable stuffs nowadays—as you saw yourself, there’s even a demand for cotton goods. What do you say to filling up a few show-windows with woolens, rough wool skirts, cotton and flannel underwear? And a nice poster to go with it, and a lot of advertisements announcing: Rough Woolens, Cotton, Muslin, and Flannel—the Latest Paris Fashion!”

Seized with a hysterical fit of laughter, Herr Habietnik roared until the tears ran down his cheeks. “Flannels and woolens—the rage in Paris! See here, if Frau Ella Zwieback, who’s living in Brussels now, ever hears of this, she’ll think we’ve all gone crazy in Vienna! But all right—I’m sick of this business, and I get scared stiff when I walk through the empty house! Go ahead, make your wool displays! And don’t forget the Alpine hats and hobnailed shoes! As for the pastry shop, it’ll gradually be converted into a standing bar with hot frankfurters. It’s all the same to me, whether we smash this way or that!”

Ten days later one show-window actually displayed red, blue, and printed flannel petticoats, drawers and knitted vests, another showed cotton stockings and durable shoes, while a third revealed high piles of rough woolens in brown, gray, and black. And the salesrooms were filled until everybody’s needs had been supplied, and the salesgirls again yawned or surreptitiously read Engelhorn’s novels behind their black silk aprons.

CHAPTER III.
THE OLD-TIMER

Dr. Haberfeld, the lawyer, sat in the Café Imperial and crossly pushed aside the newspapers which Josef, the old head-waiter, had brought him.

“Say, Josef, it’s so empty here, a fellow could freeze next to the stove! In the old days it was a hard job to scare up a seat, and now—now you could stage a Derby race here, there’s so much room!”

Josef stroked his grayish muttonchops, gazed sorrowfully at the other, wiped off the table with his napkin, and said with a worried air:

“The Ring cafés are closing one after the other—I guess we won’t last much longer either. Y’know, Herr Doktor, what the Hebrew gentlemen—beg pardon, the Jews—were, they always liked to go to the high-class places, where there’s something doing and something to see. But the Christian gentlemen, they go to a coffee-house in the suburbs, and play tarot or billiards there—or else they go to a cheap barroom. Yes, sir, times have changed.”

“A deaf, dumb and blind man could see that,” growled the lawyer. “Look here, Josef, we two have known each other long enough not to pretend that things are what they aren’t. To tell you the truth, I don’t like the whole business. Vienna’s going to the dogs without the Jews!”

Josef started, and looked around with frightened air.

“Don’t worry, nobody’ll hear us! Vienna’s going to the dogs, I say; and when I, a veteran anti-Semite, say that, it’s true, I tell you! And I’ll tell you something more, Josef. You know, better than anyone else, that after I eat I always have to take some bicarbonate of soda, to counteract the wretched acid in my stomach. But if I had no acid in my stomach, I wouldn’t be able to eat anything any more, and I’d kick the bucket. Now, y’see, that anti-Semitism of ours was only the soda to counteract the Jews, to keep ’em from becoming a nuisance! Now we have no acid any more—that is, no Jews—but only soda; and I’m afraid that’ll be the end of us.”

Josef, who had listened with breathless and reverential attention, dejectedly flicked a chair with his napkin as he whispered miserably:

“Right you are, Herr Doktor, though a fellow don’t dare say so out loud. My finish has started already. In the last six months I’ve spent half my savings. Between ourselves, Herr Doktor—and because you yourself are a liberal gentleman, so the shoe don’t fit you. The Hebrew gentlemen—beg pardon, I mean the Jews—were real generous with their tips!”

Josef cleared away the papers which had been boring Dr. Haberfeld, and, on his request, brought him the Prague and Berlin papers. Then he attended to some other patrons who had just come in, and who ordered a pint of wine each.

“Like in a saloon,” Josef whispered as he passed the attorney. The latter nodded understandingly, lighted a cigar, and fell to dreaming of the days when he had sat there every evening with a group of Jewish colleagues and, political enmity notwithstanding, had exchanged with them many clever and original ideas.

CHAPTER IV.
“SOMETHING HE CANNOT FINISH”

This year the early spring, which always is marked by political disturbances, again brought some agitated days to Vienna. Unemployment spread to a terrifying extent, factory after factory closed down, and there were numerous failures among the retail establishments. Noisy demonstrations were held everywhere, not only by the laborers, who were partly provided for by the state, but by idle salesmen and salesgirls, bookkeepers and typists as well, until it was decided, at a stormy session of the cabinet, to subsidize these classes also during the time of their unemployment. The Minister of Finance fought against this measure with all his power, but finally the Chancellor, Dr. Schwertfeger, had his way. Dr. Schwertfeger, who had become even harder, stiffer, and more bony, declared that this additional burden would have to be borne.

“We may not let things come to such a pass that the expulsion of the Jews should one day be blamed for misery and distress. So far we have been able to persuade the Arbeiter-Zeitung, whose spirit is still Jewish though its editors are Christians, to refrain from all criticism of the anti-Jewish law. But if we do not meet the demands of the unemployed business men and women, its patience will be at an end, and if only to draw these people into its camp, it will inaugurate a campaign that may prove ruinous; for we have not yet passed the transitional stage between the reign of the Jews and our complete emancipation.”

“And our krone?” sarcastically interjected Professor Trumm.

“We must turn to our Christian friends abroad and explain to them the straits in which we find ourselves. The best thing would be for you to leave immediately for Paris and London.”

Trumm laughed harshly. “Quite futile! Even three months ago I returned empty-handed from my first begging tour. Those people will give no more—they have not even adhered entirely to their solemn promises. You underestimate the influence of our former fellow-citizens, the Austrian Jews, some of whom hold positions in foreign banks today. Besides, the delirious enthusiasm of the Christians has passed, and people are again viewing things from a sober business standpoint. Even Mr. Huxtable has refused.—But all right, let us grant the demands of the unemployed clerical workers! However, I wash my hands in innocence.”

The next day the cabinet decision was published, and quiet was restored; but the day after the krone suffered a thirty per cent fall on the Zurich exchange. And the Neue Zuricher Zeitung printed an article which proved statistically that slowly but surely Vienna was forfeiting all significance in Central-European trade, and losing in its competition with Prague and Budapest.

“The business men of Hungary were as crafty as those of Prague. They received with open arms certain classes of decent Viennese Jews, who brought trade with them. Besides, the buyers of the world, being mostly Jews, cannot go to Vienna any more, and therefore go to Prague, Brünn, Budapest, and, particularly, Berlin; the Christian buyers follow their example, so that the Austrian manufacturers of finished products such as fancy leather goods, shoes, pottery, and the like, must travel abroad with their sample trunks instead of receiving their customers at home. In short, no business worth mentioning is carried on in Vienna, in spite of the unprecedented low status of the krone. This has of course put an end to foreign exchange speculation in Vienna—but, it seems, at the expense of the Austrian organism. Instead of accomplishing a great work with his law, the gifted Chancellor, Dr. Schwertfeger, seems to have started something he cannot finish.”

As if in substantiation of the truth of this article the banking world of Vienna became completely disorganized. The hopes of the foreign syndicates that had taken over the great Viennese banks met with bitter disappointment. Their turnover grew less and less, and the departure of the Jews had also caused a considerable decrease in activity on the stock exchange. To avoid a deficit, therefore, the banks were forced to give up one after the other of the thousands of branches with which Vienna was dotted. The bank clerks’ organization protested in vain against this deprivation of some of its members of their livelihood. Then the banks claimed the protection of their embassies, and there was some painful diplomatic intervention that resulted in the Austrian government being forced to take into its service the unemployed bank clerks, when it really needed to diminish its own staff. And the krone fell to the thousandth part of a centime.

CHAPTER V.
HENRY DUFRESNE

On a wonderfully warm, summer-like May morning an automobile, coming from the West Station, drove up before the Hotel Bristol, depositing there an elegant, slender, dark-haired man. With an experienced glance the hotel manager appraised first the heavy leather trunk and hand baggage, and then the stranger, whose short imperial beard and turned-up mustache, twirled in a manner then unfashionable in Vienna, lent something exotic to his appearance. “From the south of France,” was the manager’s conclusion; by a rapid mental process he translated French francs into kronen, and determined the price of a room in accordance with the astonishing result. To the question, put in French, as to whether a room was to be had, he replied, with an effort to suppress an ironic smile:

“Surely, Monsieur—would you like a single room, or a suite with bath? Looking out on the Ring, or to the rear?”

Amazed, the newcomer dropped the monocle he had held in his eye.

“Why, how’s this? It used to be impossible to get accommodations anywhere without previous reservation!”

“My dear sir,”—the manager heaved a profound and sincere sigh—“it must be a year and a half or more since you’ve been in Vienna. Much has changed since then!”

The stranger understood immediately, nodded sympathetically, asked for a room with a view of the Ringstrasse, and registered:

“Henry Dufresne, artist, from Paris, 29 years of age, Catholic, unmarried.”

M. Dufresne bathed, changed his clothes, merrily whistling the latest Parisian song-hit all the while, ordered an excellent breakfast to be served in his room, and, about ten o’clock in the morning, left the hotel, in a noticeably jovial mood.

The Frenchman with the little beard seemed to be quite familiar with Vienna, for he swung himself on a tramway car without asking his way; and he appeared to have an excellent command of the German language, for it was evident that he listened with interest to the conversation of those about him. When an old woman began to wail about the high prices, and to revile the authorities in no uncertain terms, M. Dufresne patted her shoulder and, in faultless German and with a Viennese accent, tried to pacify her:

“How can you say such things, granny? We must all feel glad and happy, now that we’re rid of the Jews.”

But granny now flared up in proper fashion.

“The Jews never done me no harm! They could ’a’ stayed in Vienna s’ far’s I was concerned. I had such a good place with a Jewish gen’l’m’n, an’ whenever he brought home a girl an’ made a mess he give me a extra bill. Live an’ let live, he always said—an’ he was right!”

There was laughter on the platform, and a jolly chap with a nose that shone wine-red corroborated this testimony:

“Yeh, I guess a man c’n say th’t some o’ the Jews was real decent folks.”

A peculiar smile played about the Frenchman’s mouth as he left the car and strolled slowly along the Währingerstrasse, later turning into the Nussdorferstrasse. Occasionally he stopped before a show-window, shaking his head as he observed the prices marked on the goods displayed. Finally he reached the Billrothstrasse, which eventually leads into the vineyard-studded suburbs Sievering and Grinzing.

His attention was caught by a sign on the door of a modern apartment house in the Billrothstrasse.

“For rent: Small, elegantly furnished apartment with studio; immediate possession. Apply to janitor.”

Quickly making up his mind, M. Dufresne entered the house and sought out the janitor, who, taking him up to the fifth floor by means of an elevator, showed him the apartment. It consisted of a bed-room, a parlor furnished as a den, and adjoining this, a large studio-like room with a skylight. A bathroom was also included.

“How does this apartment happen to be vacant?”

“For heaven’s sake,” cried the janitor, “why, there are about twenty thousand vacant apartments in Vienna today. An architect, a Herr Rosenbaum, used to live here—but he had to leave with all the rest of the Jews. The landlord bought his furniture, but hasn’t been able to find a tenant because there’s no kitchen.”

Five minutes later a deposit in the shape of a five hundred thousand-kronen bill was in the janitor’s hand, and M. Dufresne had rented the apartment. Walking more rapidly, he proceeded on toward Grinzing, gaily swinging his cane and saying to himself: “A good beginning—I couldn’t have had better luck with the apartment.” But the closer he came to Grinzing the more excited he became, his cheek flushed, and his merry brown eyes grew feverishly bright. When he had reached the Kobenzlgasse his steps became slower and almost dragged—he seemed to be approaching a fateful moment. Drawing a deep breath, he stopped before the house of Hofrat Spineder, and pulled his broad-brimmed gray hat down over his eyes so that only his moustache and beard remained visible. Apparently undecided, he walked back and forth, at times looking nervously at his wrist-watch, whose hands pointed to half-past eleven. Just as he stood before the green gate again it opened to let out a maid. At this instant, while the gate was open, M. Dufresne saw a girl come out from the door of the house, to the left of the court—a young girl, dressed in white, her golden head uncovered, a book in her hand; she walked toward the back, through the court and up into the garden.

“Hurrah!” the man with the little beard said to himself—and his plan of action was complete. To the right of the Spineder grounds, separated from them by a wooden fence, lay a long empty lot that had temporarily, since the war, been transformed into a large kitchen-garden. It extended upward as far as the summer-house on the highest point of the Spineder garden. The other edge of the lot was separated by another wooden fence from a side street that opened on the Kobenzlgasse; but this fence was in a dilapidated state, and had broken down entirely in several places. The Frenchman crawled through one of the holes and dashed up through the kitchen-garden, catching up with and soon passing the blonde girl walking on his right. Now M. Dufresne had reached the top; he swung himself over the fence into the garden of Hofrat Spineder, and hid himself behind a massive linden-tree that stood in the middle of the vineyard. A few minutes later the girl reached the tree; but she was not able to see the man hidden behind it. Not until, suddenly, something unexpected happened. M. Dufresne called, mezzovoce: “Lotte!” And when Lotte Spineder, startled and confused, stopped to look around, he called again: “It’s I, Lotte! For heaven’s sake, don’t be frightened!”

The next moment the gentleman with the little beard had caught Lotte, who had become white as a sheet and had begun to sway, in his arms. Again and again he pressed his mouth to her cold lips, until the color returned to her cheeks and, trembling all over, she clung to him tightly, as if someone were trying to tear him away from her.

And now they sat in the summer-house, Leo Strakosch held Lotte on his knee, and told his story hurriedly:

“Yes, Lotte darling, it’s I, and it’s for your sake that I grew this horrible beard and mustache. I longed for you so much, I simply couldn’t stay away any more; and when your father wrote me that he was really worried about your health and that he thought it wisest for us to stop writing to each other, as every letter opened the wounds in your heart—then my mind was made up. I confided in a dear and good friend, Henry Dufresne, who would go through fire for me; I grew a little imperial beard like the one he wears, and got all his papers from him: the certificates of his baptism, residence, and military service, and his passport, duly viséed by the Austrian embassy in Paris. The beard made us look very much alike, so that he could take a chance on securing his passport with my photograph. And I did not forge his signature, but he imitated mine. Of course this splendid fellow told all his friends and acquaintances that he was going to Vienna, while he actually went to his uncle’s estate, in the south of France, where he will stay a year. And I can live in Vienna as Henry Dufresne just as long as he remains there.”

Lotte wept and laughed in the same breath.

“I’m so unspeakably happy, Leo! But I’m so afraid for you! You know there’s a death penalty for returning here—suppose they catch you?”

“Impossible, darling! The few friends I had are all Jews, and had to leave the country when I did. Besides, the beard serves as an absolute disguise, especially when I wear a monocle. And even if someone were to come and declare that I’m Leo Strakosch, I’d simply deny it, and no one could convict me, for my passport is genuine, and if anyone should inquire of the Paris police he’d be told that Henry Dufresne has gone to Vienna with a regular traveller’s passport.”

“But what about Papa and Mama?” asked Lotte, after a number of whole-hearted kisses, which she found delightful, mustache and beard notwithstanding.

“Of course they must not hear a single word about this, Lotte,” was Leo’s grave reply. “Not that they’d report me. But your father is too much of an official and a Hofrat not to be angry with me for this masquerade; and, besides, he would never permit us to meet, but would adjure me to go away again. This way, however, we’ll see each other every day, won’t we, Lotte?”

And Leo told her of the cozy little apartment he had just rented, and described how they could spend a few hours together there every day—as much time as Lotte would be able to have to herself. At this Lotte blushed to the roots of her hair; but when she looked into the frank and sincere eyes of her lover she knew that she would be safe with him even if they were all alone.

Leo had to go now, for someone might look for Lotte in the garden any minute. But before they bade each other farewell the girl’s white forehead clouded again.

“But now you’ve given up your splendid career in Paris, Leo! And what will you do to support yourself here in Vienna, with this terribly high cost of living that even Papa is beginning to complain about?”

Leo laughed so merrily and boisterously that Lotte, frightened, put her hand over his mouth. Which he construed as an invitation to kiss the rosy little fingers. He did this to his heart’s content before he answered:

“What’ll I do here, darling? Work, and work hard; and I’ll save an enormous amount of money, for when they are reduced to francs these high Viennese prices are ridiculously low. You see, I’ve been commissioned by the biggest publishing house of Paris to illustrate a new edition of the collected works of Zola. And the terms are marvellous, I’ll tell you. Sixty thousand francs, half of which I got when I signed the contract. I’ll get the other half when I deliver the two hundred drawings—and that must be in a year. So you see again that we Jews are a wily race, and know on which side our bread is buttered.”

Leo climbed back over the fence; and that very day M. Dufresne moved over to the Billrothstrasse. Hofrat Spineder and his wife, however, noted with great satisfaction that for the first time in more than a year their little girl was in good spirits, and hummed a gay song to herself.

“You’ll see,” the Hofrat said to his wife, “by and by Lotte will forget all about this deplorable business. I feel sorry for the poor fellow, but it’s better this way. Besides he wrote me quite a sensible letter in which he promised to give up corresponding with Lotte.”

Frau Spineder shook her head in amazement, and thought: “How different girls are nowadays! If I had been in Lotte’s place I’d never have overcome my love!”

CHAPTER VI.
THE END OF THE TENANTS’ PROTECTIVE LAW

The Weltpresse, once the liberal-bourgeois paper, but now the principal organ of the Christian-Social Party, received a communication from the owner of the house located at No. 19 Billrothstrasse,—a communication containing a keen and logical argument against the continuance of the Tenants’ Protective Law. “This law,” said the letter, “had reason and justification when there was a housing shortage and the populace had to be protected against being rendered homeless through the avarice of individual landlords. But today there is no more housing shortage; thanks to the beneficial anti-Jewish law of our revered Chancellor, normal conditions have been restored, and the necessary surplus of apartments exists. Therefore this Tenants’ Protective Law has become superfluous and, at the present time, constitutes only a brutal attack on the rights of the landlord; furthermore, it conflicts with our Constitution. The repeal of the law would of course be followed by a rise in rents; but this would be entirely justified, and, in the long run, would prove salutary to the community, for the higher rents would raise the amount of taxes to be paid, as well as the value of the houses. It is characteristic that it was a cultured French artist, living in my house, who expressed to me his amazement at this Tenants’ Protective Law. He declared that the capitalist circles of France find the law ridiculous, and that, among other things, it discourages foreigners from investing their money in Viennese real estate. Therefore let us do away with the Tenants’ Protective Law! The noble Christian spirit of the Viennese landlords, together with the automatic action of the law of supply and demand, will prevent an excessive rise in rents.”

This letter appeared in a prominent position in the Weltpresse, accompanied by an editorial note that very cautiously approved the views of the esteemed correspondent, yet, at the same time, differed with him slightly. For neither the landlords nor the tenants were to be offended.

This marked the beginning of an animated public discussion; letters poured into the editorial offices, and the landlords clamored more and more for the repeal of the Tenants’ Protective Law, for the privilege of giving notice and of raising rents at their own discretion. Herr Windholz, the owner of the Billrothstrasse house, suddenly became an important personage; he was elected to the presidency of the landlords’ association, and he came every day to his cultured French tenant, M. Dufresne, for advice. Gaily Herr Strakosch, alias Dufresne, egged him on, declaring emphatically one day:

“If the landlords endure this slavery any longer, I’ll consider them spineless fools one and all, and I’ll leave the city where such conditions can continue to prevail.”

“But what can we do?” Herr Windholz asked in despair. “What can we do when the government absolutely refuses to comply with our demands?”

“What can you do? I’ll tell you: Get your association together today, and resolve to deliver a three days’ ultimatum to the government. If by the end of that period it has not restored the privilege of managing your houses in your own way, you, the landlords, will strike. You will pay no taxes, you will suspend the lighting and cleaning of your houses, you will refuse to pay interest on your mortgages—in short, you will commit sabotage against the state.”

Herr Windholz waxed enthusiastic, embraced the Frenchman, and assured him that whatever may happen his rent would not be raised.

Subsequent events followed M. Dufresne’s plan. The Viennese landlords’ association accepted the ultimatum unanimously, and the government was defeated. In vain did Dr. Schwertfeger asseverate that the repeal of the Tenants’ Protective Law would have most disastrous results; his fellow ministers outvoted him. Primarily, as the Arbeiter-Zeitung maliciously pointed out, because the Ministers of Finance, Education, and Commerce each owned several houses.

Thus fell the Tenants’ Protective Law, which had forbidden the landlords to dispossess their tenants or to raise rents at will; and twenty-four hours later there took place a stormy open meeting of the landlords, where it was decided to increase the current rents a thousandfold, so that they would be somewhat more in keeping with the cost of living. A solemn pledge bound all to adhere to this decision.

The populace, only a small minority of which consisted of landlords, went mad. The working classes now had to pay millions in yearly rentals for their rooms, and a small middle-class apartment could not be had for less than fifty million. The housewives’ organization, the unions, the association of steadily employed workers, the war invalids and war widows, the artisans’ societies—all of them called mass meetings and staged demonstrations; for fully eight days no work of any sort was done in Vienna or the provincial towns, while demonstrations were held from morning to night. The number of broken window-panes grew at a terrifying rate, and for the first time in a considerable number of years the streets resounded with the cry:

“Down with the government!”

Both the Christian and the German-Nationalist papers lost many readers; but the Arbeiter-Zeitung again basked in the sunshine of fortune’s smiles.

CHAPTER VII.
ZWICKERL GOES INTO BANKRUPTCY

Herr Zwickerl was in a bad humor, venting his wrath by furious pokes at the cherry Strudel on the plate before him. Frau Zwickerl anticipated the approaching storm:

“What’s eating you now, Anton? Isn’t business going?”

This was too much for Herr Zwickerl. He pushed away the cherry Strudel; and his face grew redder than the cherries as he roared:

“You bet business is going! To the devil, that’s where! I might as well tell you—I’ve got to go into bankruptcy!”

“Jesus Christ!” shrieked Frau Zwickerl. “How can that be? The store’s always been crowded, and everybody thinks you got a gold-mine from that Jew Lessner!”

“Yah,” sneered Zwickerl, “a gold-mine full o’ mud! The more people buy, the more I lose. And you know what? It’s all on account o’ that damnable exchange! It’s kronen, measly kronen, what I take in, while Czech crowns and francs fly out the window. I buy ten thousand yards of batiste in Reichenberg; a week later the salesman of that division comes to me, his silly face shining with joy, and says, ‘Herr Zwickerl, these goods fairly fly out of the store! Tomorrow there won’t be a single yard left in the house!’

“That’s fine, I think, and go to the bookkeeper; and when we go over the accounts I see I’ve lost on every yard, because the Czech crown has gone up again. And this is only one case out of a hundred. I always add three hundred per cent to every price, but the krone still falls quicker than I can raise the prices. I’m losing all the time; the Länderbank, which backed me when I took over the store, is demanding its money, and I can’t pay, because I have a terrific deficit. What’s more, I need another billion, because I can’t buy any more without it!”

Having let off steam, Herr Zwickerl now felt calmer. Drawing the cherry Strudel toward him, he continued with a shrewd wink:

“Y’know, old girl, what we really need is just a couple o’ Jewish banks—that’s all! Before, when I had my little store in the Strumpergasse, then whenever I had to buy abroad I used to go to that hunchbacked Kohn of the Hermesbank, where I had my account, and he says to me, ‘Herr Zwickerl,’ he says, ‘now you’ve got to store up marks, because the mark’s going to go up;’ or he says, ‘The krone is going to be steadier now, so you buy kronen.’ And it always happened the way he said, and I made money not only on my goods, but on the exchange, too. But now—the monkeys what’s in that bank now don’t know nothin’, and I don’t know nothin’ about it either, and everything’s going to pieces, you mark my words!”

Herr Zwickerl was one of the many petty business men whom the anti-Jewish law had raised to great heights. With the aid of the now thoroughly Christian Länderbank he, the little small-scale merchant, had succeeded in acquiring the great dry goods store in the Mariahilferstrasse; and his first six months there had been a time of unalloyed happiness. When Herr Zwickerl stood on the balcony of the store and looked down at the throng below, he felt like a petty monarch, becoming quite drunk with the ringing of the cash registers, the rustling of silk, and the confused hum of voices. Every evening, at supper, he drank to the health of Schwertfeger, and repeated over and over again to his wife, (who now wore her kid gloves even into the kitchen):

“Now you see, old girl—now we can see how the Jews fleeced us! They had all the big stores, and we Christians had to worry along and work our heads off in dingy little shops. Thank God, that’s over now!”

But even the first semi-annual accounting was a terrible disappointment for Herr Zwickerl. In spite of the enormous turnover and the crowded store there was not the shadow of a profit—somehow or other some mistake had always been made in the speculation involved in purchases abroad. And more than once Herr Zwickerl sighed to himself: “If only I had a good Jew what could tell me what to do!”

Herr Zwickerl actually had to declare himself bankrupt, the store was closed, and was taken over by a realtor of the Gumpoldskirchen district, who made the great house over into a huge bar.

In the years that followed the war and revolution Vienna had developed more and more into the hub of Central-European extravagance, and the life of certain classes had grown so luxurious that it became the talk of all the world. The masses of Vienna, however—not only the laborers, but also the middle classes—had gnashed their teeth as they watched the foreign elements, especially the Galician, Roumanian, and Hungarian Jews, lord it over Vienna. Spending lavishly the practically worthless money of Austria, they drank champagne when the poor man could hardly pay for his glass of beer; they adorned their women with pearls and furs while the real aristocracy was forced to sell its family jewels one by one; they raced through the streets in their luxurious automobiles, they took away the homes of Viennese residents of long standing, and filled the cultured old city with their noisy ostentation.

When the Jews had been exiled all this was changed entirely overnight. The dumfounding extravagance disappeared, the Viennese rummage sales came to a stop, it no longer required superhuman effort to secure a seat for the opera, and life became calmer, simpler, more substantial. Until it developed that a city like Vienna cannot exist without luxury. At the beginning, the Christian business men who took over the Jewish shops had also taken possession of the Jewish automobiles; the general prosperity seemed to be unchanged, but merely to have been redistributed. The joy which the citizens of Vienna felt when they no longer had to bump into Jewish profiteers at every step, was as genuine as it was easily comprehensible. But when the krone soon began to drop again toward the infinitesimal, and prices rose like a tidal wave—when every business that depended on unlimited luxury, (like the exclusive stores, the cabarets, theatres, and princely restaurants and bars,) failed—when unemployment became general and the export trade with foreign countries grew less and less—then high living also had its wings clipped. The tens of thousands of automobiles that had gone over from Jewish into Christian hands were sold to foreign buyers for a handful of lire or francs, for business went so badly that it was impossible to buy gasoline; art dealers complained of a complete standstill in their business, the deficit of the state-subventioned theatres grew by leaps and bounds, and eminent Christian artists and scholars, especially the great physicians, emigrated to other countries because their own people no longer were willing or able to pay them the fees to which they had become accustomed in the Jewish era.

And it was impossible to stop the constant growth of discontent, irritation, and the realization that the country was on the downward path.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE SWEET, GAY YOUNG THINGS

Discontent was rampant among the gay young things of Vienna. Instinctively they felt in their subconscious minds that the lofty and exalted policy of the government was, to an appreciable extent, carried out at their expense. During the last half century it had become a tradition that the pretty young girl of the Viennese middle class should have a Jewish sweetheart. Let the father be an enthusiastic Christian-Socialist, let the brother be just as enthusiastic a German nationalist—Poldi or Fini, Mitzi or Grete “went” with a Jew, who might be a salesman or a bank clerk, a business man or a student. Those of their friends who had no Jews would often taunt and jeer at them—but always were they envied. For to have a Jew as one’s lover meant to be taken to the theatre and to nice cafés, to be well treated and to receive generous gifts.

As for marriage with a Jew—that was considered the grand prize, a guarantee of comfort, fur coats, and pretty clothes.

If one asked Poldi or Tini why she preferred a Jewish sweetheart, the answer was always the same.

“A Jew’s always liberal, and when he marries a Christian girl he’s her slave. Besides, they don’t get drunk. I used to go with a Christian before, and on Sundays I was always scared to death that he’d get drunk and start a row. Now that I’ve got a Jewish friend we always go to nice places, he drinks hardly anything, he’s smart, always has a lot of things to talk about, and never gets rough.”

But when the sweet young things were gathered together privately, in an intimate group, and began to tell one another their erotic experiences and exploits, then they spoke of the sensuousness of the Jews and of the manifoldness of their erotic inclinations as contrasted with their Aryan friends—good Christians and splendid fellows, but far less entertaining....

It is possible, and even probable, that one cause for the profound and fanatic anti-Semitism among the male inhabitants of Vienna during the last few decades was the fact that the youth with the Hakenkreuz could not stomach the sight of his Jewish rivals snatching away all the pretty girls.

Now all this had been changed; no longer was it necessary to compete with the Jews, and the Viennese girl was wholly dependent on her fellow-Aryans. But comparison and reminiscence could be neither prevented nor prohibited.

The girls behind the counters and in the offices, in the sewing-rooms and factories, understood little of politics, but much of practical life. And they began to miss the Jewish young men very much. At first they had been carried away by the general enthusiasm; but when the morning after dawned they found their lives emptier and more poverty-stricken than before. They began to long for their exiled sweethearts, the good qualities of the Jews as lovers were exaggerated in the memory; these good qualities were constantly thrown in the teeth of their Christian successors, and the two were compared continually, much to the disadvantage of those in power.

One day the Arbeiter-Zeitung described a characteristic scene, which a reporter had observed in the inn of an excursion resort.

A beautiful young creature had, for some reason or other, quarreled with her companion, who exclaimed in the course of the argument:

“Wish you’d gone away with your Jew!”

Whereupon the girl wiped the tears from her eyes and answered loudly:

“Wish I had! I ain’t the only girl what had a Jewish friend, and we’re all sorry we ain’t got them any more! What do we get from you? You drink and gamble away your money, and we’ve got to buy our rags with what we make ourselves. And none of you is so nice to us as my Fritz was, or Trudl’s Rudi, or his friend Karl, what went with Liesl. They never let us pick up or carry anything, they always bought us the prettiest and best things, and when we went out with them they didn’t take us to such cheap lunchrooms, but to Hopfner, or the Opernrestaurant, and later to a swell café where there was music and people in fine clothes. And where love’s concerned—well, you can’t talk about such things, but them Jews knew how to treat a girl, and when they loved they never was so selfish like you fellows, what ain’t got no idea of what a woman needs!”

These resolute words called forth a storm of indignation among the young men; the girls, however, silently exchanged glances, and nodded.

CHAPTER IX.
THE END OF THE HAKENKREUZLER

At a political meeting held shortly after the expulsion of the Jews Dr. Schwertfeger said that now, when the foes of the Aryan spirit no longer resided in Austria, there would be an automatic approximation of the various party groups, and a modification of political antagonism.

He seemed to have been right. Almost annihilated by the results of the last election, dumfounded and staggered by recent events, robbed by the expulsion of their greatest minds, best journalists, and most spirited leaders, the Socialists remained silent and decided not to come out of their forced retirement for the time being. And the variance between the principles of the German Nationalists and the Christian-Socialists actually began to disappear.

After the expulsion all Vienna was transformed into an armed camp of Hakenkreuzler. Practically every man, woman, adolescent and child wore the emblem that was displayed on all the posters, flags and standards. But when things came to such a pass that every “drunk” and pickpocket was wearing it, when the police mentioned regularly that “the prisoner wore a Hakenkreuz,” then the more intelligent people began to discard it, soon to be imitated by the middle class and the masses.

It was not long before it became evident that all the parties, the Christian-Socialist as well as the Social-Nationalist, had as their common basis the portrayal of the Jew as an evil spirit, a bogeyman, and a scapegoat. Now that there were no Jews or people of Jewish descent in Austria this no longer attracted the public, and party politics became even more stupid and boring than before.

Misery, unemployment, and the cost of living increased, and demagogues were at a loss to find someone to blame. For now the rich were good Christians, as were also the exploiters and usurers, (though the latter were not to be mentioned, for that would have been an admission that Christians, as well as Jews, could be profiteers and usurers).

Formerly the Hakenkreuzler had attracted notice and aroused the masses with their posters. Bosel and other Jewish plutocrats had been called the rulers of Austria, had been reviled as vampires and oppressors. But now Bosel was living in London, and the Hakenkreuzler posters had become so colorless that no one bothered to read them any more.

One after the other the papers that displayed the Hakenkreuz suspended publication; Hakenkreuzler meetings no longer drew an audience, no more money poured into the party treasury, and the leaders found themselves in a pinch when they could no longer fleece rich Jews, and when there were no more Jewish banks to give them money. For the Christianized banks did not need to contribute—and could not have done so had they wished, for their situation became worse every day.

The leaders of the Hakenkreuzler made a last effort to save themselves and their slowly dying party. On enormous posters and a million leaflets they informed the populace that it was again the Jews who were to blame for all the misery of Vienna. It was international Jewry, said they, that was shooting poisoned darts into Austria from foreign countries, that was hatching vengeance, that was forcing down the krone and, through the powerful organization of Freemasonry, was draining Austria and isolating her from international life.

For three or four days these “revelations” served as topics of conversation—for three or four days the starving, desperate, jobless people stopped before the posters and shook their fists. Then they began to shrug their shoulders and to call the whole business nonsense. For the simple reason that even the most stupid of them could see that Austria was absolutely powerless against such a “plot” of international Jewry. In the old days they could have marched from a Hakenkreuzler meeting to Leopoldstadt, drunk with enthusiasm, and secretly hoping to plunder and burglarize a little on the way, to thrash a few Jews and break some windows. But now, when there were no more Jews in Leopoldstadt, such a demonstration would have been entirely senseless, and the formerly so tolerant and kindly police now would surely have cut down the looting demonstrants without much ado.

Thus it happened that one day the principal organ of the Hakenkreuzler made the melancholy and yet defiant announcement that it would suspend publication; incidentally, it revealed the heart-rending fact that at the last great assembly of the Hakenkreuzler there had gathered only twenty persons in addition to the officers and the waiters.

Dr. Schwertfeger had been right: Political opposition was becoming less vivid, was disappearing almost completely. But for an entirely different reason than he had believed. It was because of a total lack of motive power, and because the Jews had taken with them all the dash and spirit of politics.

CHAPTER X.
CHEAP SUMMER-RESORTS

On a glorious June day Leo Strakosch, alias Dufresne, went to the City Park, to gather further impressions of the new Vienna. As a rule he seldom left the Nineteenth District, where he was always either working in his studio or taking long walks in the Wienerwald with Lotte. Now, strolling about among the crowded tables of the inn, he felt so amused that he laughed aloud.

“For heaven’s sake—what has become of my beautiful, elegant Vienna!”

There seemed to be a general craze for Alpine costume and tourist dress; as far as he could see there were men, old and young, in rough wool coats, knickerbockers, and green Alpine hats. And the women! Most of them wore peasant costume, which, while it might have been very charming and graceful in the open country, here looked like a caricature or a bad joke. People had become very unassuming; besides, now they were all one big family, and there were no strangers around for whom it might be necessary to “dress up.”

Occasionally one did see elegantly dressed men and women; but they were so few as to be conspicuous, and sneering remarks about them issued from the Alpine tables. Strakosch felt highly uncomfortable whenever he noticed a “peasant girl” staring at him through her lorgnette—probably only because his dark blue suit, patent leather shoes, and costly silk tie attracted attention.

An electric tramway line, municipal music, and peasant girls who wore lorgnettes—Leo pinched himself. He hurried out of the Park into the Ringstrasse, where the cafés presented a sorry sight; he grinned as he noted that people were greeting one another with “Hail!”; and he had to search for quite some time before he found a taxicab. For even these public vehicles had become a luxury indulged in by so few that most of the drivers had given up their business.

Late in the afternoon, around sunset, he met Lotte at the edge of the Kobenzlwald, as they had arranged. They settled down on a bench, and, after a prologue of kisses, Lotte told him that her parents had decided to move to their little villa on the Wolfgangsee the next week.

“What’ll become of us now?” she wailed. “How can I bear not to see you all summer?”

“Nothing of the sort is expected of you, darling. I’ll take a vacation, too; when you’re in St. Gilgen I’ll be in Wolfgang, and you’ll come over every day so that we’ll be together at least an hour.”

“M-m-m,” Lotte replied happily, “that’s something like! But now I’ll have to tell you about the argument Papa and I had yesterday. Just think, suddenly Papa looked me straight in the eye and said very seriously: ‘What have you been doing all by yourself lately, for hours at a time? You know we give you as much freedom as possible—but there’s a limit!’

“I felt myself getting red as a beet and thought the best thing would be for me to confess.”

“What!” interrupted Leo, horrified. “You told your father?”

“Let me finish, silly,” laughed Lotte, pinching his ear. “I confessed, but only what I wanted. I told Papa that I had met a very splendid young man at Erna’s house, that I like him as well as he likes me, and that I often meet him for walks. He’s a Frenchman, I said, by the name of Henry Dufresne, and he’s putting through some big business deals here.

“At first Papa was absolutely speechless, then he asked why I don’t invite this Frenchman to the house. Whereupon I answered that I’m not entirely sure of my feelings, and therefore don’t want to make the matter seem official. And finally I cried, quite indignantly:

“‘You know you can trust me, Papa! You can be sure I won’t do anything wrong, and Henry will come to you as soon as I think it necessary and proper. But now let me go my own way!’

“After this Papa was very kind and nice to me, and so was Mama. But later I heard Papa telling Mama: ‘I’d never have believed that Lotte would forget poor Leo so quickly and thoroughly. Still, I’m very glad she’s found a new object for her affections, and we won’t put any obstacle in her way.’

“And Mama, who is so fond of you, shook her head and said: ‘I don’t understand that girl at all! Her cheeks have actually become pink again, and she sings all day as if she had never had a heartache.’

“You know, Leo, it surely isn’t nice of us to fool my parents this way—but I’m so happy that you’re here in Vienna!”

Leo pulled Lotte toward him, gave her a long kiss, and then said with an important air:

“Now we’ll go to the country, and when I come back I’ll fool the whole town and I’ll do it properly, too! I can’t tell you any more today—but you’ll see some marvelous doings.”

This was the second summer to console the Viennese for the great inconvenience and bitter disappointments they had suffered. In former years the most beautiful towns and resorts of diminished Austria had become the playground of the Jews. All of the beautiful Salzkammer region, the Semmering district, and even the more modernized sections of the Tyrol, had been flooded with Austrian, Czechoslovakian, and Hungarian Jews; the appearance of anyone who might be suspected of being a Gentile would actually create a sensation in Ischl, Gmunden, Wolfgang, Gilgen, Strobel, Aussee, or on the Attersee. Not without justification the Christians—partly because of lesser wealth, and partly because of greater conservatism in the matter of money-spending—felt that they were being pushed aside, and had to content themselves with the less expensive, but also much less beautiful resorts of Lower Austria and Steiermark, or with out-of-the-way Tyrolese villages. Since the expulsion of the Jews all this had changed. The most beautiful summer-resorts were crowded no longer, inquiries from city dwellers received immediate and very courteous replies, and in spite of the otherwise increased cost of living the rents of rooms or summer homes were considerably lower than two years before. And therefore all who had the time and the money flocked to the places that had formerly disgusted the genuine Viennese.

The owners of the great hotels, health resorts, and so-called sanatoria, however, were not so well pleased. They had always lived off international Jewry—their entire business depended on people who do not calculate cost when their comfort is at stake; and now, as it was impossible for them to be cheap, they could not find enough patrons. The great Semmering hotels did not open at all, and many hostelries of the Salzkammer region and the Tyrol were forced to close and dismiss their employes in the middle of the season. This was gall in their cup of joy, and caused ill will among the country people, who were accustomed to sell their products to the great hotels at enormous prices, and to let their sons and daughters make goodly sums of money as valets and chambermaids during the summer.

The mayor of Semmering had the courage to say openly, at a meeting of the Town Council:

“Together with the Jews we drove prosperity out of the country. If this lasts a few years longer we may be good Christians, but we’ll be as poor as church mice!”

CHAPTER XI.
A STORMY DEBATE

When summer was over and autumn was tinting the leaves with its brilliant hues, the krone began to fall again, (as had become its habit,) and the cost of living to rise. Prices became preposterous, even the rich hesitated to buy new clothes; laborers, office workers, and even the unemployed made new demands. A ride on the tramway car cost ten thousand kronen, a pound of butter a hundred thousand.

In October, when bitterness, restlessness, and discontent were at their height, the National Assembly convened; the face of the Chancellor was care-worn and deeply lined. When he spoke the awed silence of the old days did not prevail; instead, there were calls and loud remarks, even the galleries hooted occasionally, and the small Social-Democratic opposition no longer let itself be intimidated, but constantly joined in the debate.

After surveying the hopeless financial condition of the country, Schwertfeger went on to say:

“I must tell you frankly that the Christian people of Austria will be called upon to make many great sacrifices.” (Call from the gallery: “Only the Christians, of course, since we threw out the Jews!”) “Sacrifices that will require a stout heart and loyal patriotism! The government needs money for the continuance of its administrative business; and as we are unable to obtain further credit abroad, we must resort to new taxes, direct and indirect, to bring in the enormous sums required for the administration, to cover the interest on our debt, and to pay for the support of the unemployed.

“I know, ladies and gentlemen, that the people are bitterly disappointed; I assure you that I am also. The trouble is that we underestimated the difficulties of the transitory period, and thought that the Christian citizens would adapt themselves better to the control of our financial and business undertakings, which had been entirely in the hands of the Jews. But what are such disappointments in comparison with the lofty goal we have set ourselves—to give back Austria to her Aryan people, to build up a country that will be free of the spirit of usury, free of Jewish scepticism, free of the corrupting properties and elements that represent Jewry!”

At the close of his speech the Chancellor, raising his voice, put the question of confidence.

Dr. Wolters, representing the small Socialist fraction, spoke against the granting of credit, against approval of the government’s plans and against the vote of confidence. Vividly he portrayed the ever-growing misery, the imminent danger of national bankruptcy, the devastation of Austria’s economic and intellectual life. Among other things he said:

“More than two years ago, when he was arguing for his anti-Jewish law, the honorable Chancellor called our people honest, simple, and sincere, and declared that they are not fit to compete with that superior race, the Jews. But he overlooked one thing: That even without Jews we honest, sincere, and simple Austrians would be surrounded by nations which are all the more superior to us now that the Jews are no longer with us. What has become of Central-European commerce since the Jews are gone? We have lost it, for the Jews have taken it along to Prague and Budapest. What has become of our flourishing clothing, jewelry, and millinery industries? They have disappeared almost entirely, for they cannot live on honesty and sincerity alone, but need the Jewish purchasers of all the world, who make no bones about spending their easily acquired money. Today it is evident that we cannot dispense with the Jews.”

Wild shouts interrupted the Socialist leader. The Christian-Socialists and German Nationalists were furious, and cried, “Throw out the hireling of the Jews!” The turmoil became so great that the Presiding Officer, the red-bearded Tyrolese, had to close the meeting temporarily. When he opened it again, he reprimanded Dr. Wolters severely, because his words had deeply wounded the Christian sentiment of the deputies, and because he had attempted to undermine the foundations of the new state.

Finally all the proposals of the government were accepted, over the opposition of the Socialists. But many deputies had left before the vote, and later Schwertfeger, smiling grimly, told his Presiding Officer:

“This time they ran away—but next time they’ll vote against me, those opportunists, always looking for the winning side. Yesterday they shouted ‘Hosannah,’—but tomorrow they’ll cry ‘Crucifige!’”

CHAPTER XII.
THE LEAGUE OF TRUE CHRISTIANS

Odd, mysterious things were happening. One morning hundreds of men and women stood before advertising kiosks at the Schottentor, before the Opera, in the Stubenring, and in other localities, where someone had attached, by means of a tack, small octavo leaflets bearing the following legend:

“Citizens of Vienna and Austria! Arise before you are destroyed altogether! With the Jews you drove out prosperity, hope and the possibility of future development! Accursed be the demagogues who misled you!

The League of True Christians.”

People read the impudent words aloud; many were indignant, and declared it was the work of Freemasons; others went away silently, and still others had the courage to voice their approval and to look defiantly at those who differed.

A few days later new posters appeared in various places, reading:

“Vienna is becoming provincialized! Citizens of Vienna, do you not see it? Another year or two, and the old metropolis, once the seat of emperors, will have become a shabby little hamlet, forgotten by all the world!”

As the burden of the poster was also being published in the Arbeiter-Zeitung, it began to affect the people’s nerves, and to cause restlessness throughout the city. Was there not some truth in this last statement of the mysterious League of True Christians? It gave rise to heated discussions at meetings, in the barroom, and on the tramway. Somehow the remark about the provincialization of Vienna hovered in the air—it seemed to acquire wings, for soon it was heard everywhere, and even the Christian Weltpresse quite unintentionally closed an editorial with: “We must do everything to avoid provincialization!”

The government, very much annoyed, exhorted the police to discover the malefactor who was putting up the posters. But their efforts were in vain. New leaflets appeared every day or two, always in different places—on the doors of the houses and churches, once even on the portals of the Chancellor’s Palace, of Police Headquarters, and of the Parliament Building. Always they bore a terse but effective attack on the government, an inflammatory suggestion to the people. And each time the Arbeiter-Zeitung, having received a mailed copy the day before, was enabled to publish in its early morning edition the contents of the leaflet which would be put up that day.

After a short while all Vienna was seething with excitement; almost all conversation centered about these leaflets, and everybody puzzled over who might be behind this mysterious League. From week to week the number of those who agreed with the message of the little proclamations increased, Social-Democratic meetings again drew large crowds, and the Chancellor’s prestige fell to an appreciable extent.

One afternoon Lotte went over to Leo’s earlier than he had expected. As she had her own key to the apartment, and since Leo was not waiting for her in the living-room as he usually did, she went directly into the studio. Leo quickly threw a cloth over a little wooden table, and then greeted her with a somewhat embarrassed air.

Lotte pulled his little beard, looked straight into his eyes, and said:

“Look here, Leo, you’re trying to hide something from me! What have you got there under that cloth?”

Leo laughed heartily.

“You’ve the eyes of a lynx, darling mine! Well, I guess I’ll have to tell you my secret now.”

He pulled off the cloth, and Lotte saw, beside a box of type and a miniature hand-press, a pile of newly printed sheets. Amazed, she read:

“Citizens of Vienna! Are you better or worse off today than in the time of the Jews? Think it over calmly, and you will find the right answer! Years ago we all cried: ‘Throw out the Jews!’ But today we cry: ‘Let in the Jews who really want to work loyally with us!’

The League of True Christians.”

Dumfounded, uncomprehending, Lotte dropped the paper and picked up another sheet, on which was printed:

“We are not longing for the Jewish bankers. But if we want to escape hopeless misery we must welcome back the intelligent, clever Jews who can be of value to us. Arise, and act, before it is too late!

The League of True Christians.”

Lotte looked inquiringly at her fiancé.

He picked her up, kissed the tip of her nose, and again roared with laughter.

“Don’t you understand, you child? I, all by myself, am that League of True Christians that has been driving Vienna crazy for weeks! And I shan’t stop before the great storm breaks. Mark my words, these two leaflets will do the work! They’re my gas and stink bombs and flares, with which I kill, suffocate, and illuminate.”

Lotte was trembling.

“If you’re caught at it, Leo, it’ll be all over with you!”

“If—if! But they won’t get me! I have a marvellous technique for putting up the leaflets! As I stroll past a door or a wall in the morning—without stopping for a second, but while walking—I push in the tack to which the paper has already been attached. And even if the police tear down the leaflet a few minutes later there’s no harm done, for the Arbeiter-Zeitung has already printed its contents. You can trust me, dear; it has to be done this way. I’ve mapped out my course to a ‘T,’ and I’m devilish careful anyway.”

Swinging her slender legs as she sat perched on the broad drawing-table, Lotte spoke thoughtfully:

“You know, Leo, I think you’ve already accomplished a great deal. We had quite a crowd at our house yesterday, ten men and women, and mostly all the conversation was about the expulsion of the Jews and its consequences. Everybody, including Hofrat Tumpel, agreed that the expulsion should have been limited to some of the Eastern Jews—to those who could not prove that they had a decent occupation. And finally Hofrat Tumpel, who, a year ago, used to become furious if you dared to differ ever so slightly with the Chancellor, remarked:

“‘Yes, it seems that a very delicate mechanism has been interfered with too abruptly! There are some Jewish qualities that are not to be underestimated, and which we miss badly.’

“This may of course have something to do with the fact that the Hofrat’s brother owns the bookshop in the Seilergasse where only de luxe and artistic editions are sold. Since the Jews are gone his business amounts to practically nothing, and on two occasions his brother, the Hofrat, has had to give him large sums of money to save him from bankruptcy. Another thing, Leo: I always keep my eyes and ears open—in the morning when I do my shopping, and at concerts, at the opera, and on the tramway. And I always hear people recalling the past more and more wistfully, and speaking of it as if it had been very beautiful. ‘In the old days, when the Jews were still here,’—they say that in every imaginable tone of voice, but never with hatred. You know, I think people are actually becoming lonesome for the Jews!”

Leo rewarded her keenness by pressing her to his breast. “And I’ll do my share to make their longing irresistible.”

“But be very careful, Leo! Don’t forget that if they kill you I’ll have to die, too!”

CHAPTER XIII.
A MELANCHOLY CHRISTMAS

Never had Vienna experienced a more melancholy Christmas. The enormous cost of living was supplemented by an absolute standstill of all activity. High prices alone would not have bothered the worthy Phæaceans. They had been accustomed to them for a decade; as a matter of fact it did not make much difference whether a half-pint of wine cost five or ten thousand kronen, if people earned enough, if the laborer received high wages, and the merchant had his safe full of money every evening. But this was the case no longer. The bulk of the currency lay dormant in the stockings of the peasants; in the cities no one wanted to buy; a large part of the working class was idle and dependent on government support; and the Christmas numbers of the papers published statistics which revealed that in two years about five thousand branch banks, cafés, restaurants, and shops had closed down in Vienna alone. Lately one big failure after the other had been occurring in industry. Corporations that to the last minute had been thought bomb-proof were now declaring themselves insolvent, and rumor predicted the collapse of two great banks.

Matters having reached such a state, what did it avail the Viennese that there was plenty of room everywhere, that the theatres were not sold out even on the Christmas holidays, and that one no longer had to meet those provoking Jewish noses? What did it avail them that they had returned to Christian simplicity and the full beard, when the barbers’ assistants had to be discharged by the dozen because there was no more work for them?

The condition of the jewelers was the worst of all. Most of them had been Jews and had therefore been forced to leave; and now their business was being conducted by former petty watch-repairers and other doubtless very estimable individuals who, however, had no connections whatever with the Dutch precious stone market, (which is almost exclusively in Jewish hands,) and who therefore were thoroughly taken in at every purchase. Finally buying abroad stopped altogether, for the demand for jewelry disappeared entirely, while the number of those who were forced to sell increased constantly. Slowly but surely most of the jewelry belonging to Austrians travelled to neighboring countries, to England, France, and America; but even there the jewelers who were the agents for this export trade had to suffer. If a dealer bought a rope of pearls today from a private owner for ten billion kronen, and soon after deposited it on the neck of an American woman in exchange for thirty billion, he imagined that he had put through a splendid deal, celebrated the joyous occasion with wine, sang the praises of Dr. Schwertfeger, and bought a fat goose, (which no longer was the special privilege of the Jews). But before he had digested the rich goose-liver his thirty billions were not worth as much as the ten he had spent, and he had no more money for further purchases.

So it was not at all surprising that the Yuletide brought a wave of embitterment and discontent to Vienna, and that the customary noise and merriment of the New Year’s Eve celebration was stifled under a blanket of ill temper and discouragement.

If the Chancellor had heard the conversation that occurred during Christmas week between Herr Habietnik, owner of the huge department store in the Kärtnerstrasse, and Herr Mauler, proprietor of the large jewelry establishment on the Graben, his wrath would have waxed even greater.

Sitting in the Grabencafé, Herr Habietnik and Herr Mauler were grumbling about the miserable Christmas business, which would surely seal the ruin of thousands of business men. Suddenly Herr Habietnik leaned over toward Herr Mauler and told him of a dream he had had the night before.

“Just think, Herr Mauler, I dreamt that all of a sudden only Jews and Jewesses start to come to my store. Every last one of ’em’s dressed in the latest style, and carries piles of bank-notes, and there’s a big rush. The girls can’t bring the furs and cloth and cloaks and suits fast enough for ’em, and all the ready-made clothing department’s filled with silks and velvets and laces and embroideries. But nothing’s good enough for ’em, and one Jewish lady, dressed in very good and stylish clothes, keeps on crying: ‘That’s nothing! We’re coming from Paris and Palestine, where everything’s in the latest style. Show me the best you’ve got!’ Then, without any warning, my head salesgirl brings out a pair of cotton bloomers and says: ‘But my dear Jewish lady, this is the newest thing from Paris!’ Then everybody laughs so terrible much that I wake up. Don’t you think, Herr Mauler, that this dream means something?”

Herr Mauler grinned as he answered:

“Yes—it means that pretty soon all the world’ll be laughing at us, and we’ll be wrapping ourselves in flannel and cotton before we’re buried for good. But one thing’s sure, Herr Habietnik. If an automobile was to stop in front of my shop with a Jewish couple in it, I’d kiss ’em both, and I’d be happy again! You know, Herr Habietnik, in the old days, when I was still a clerk with Herr Zwirner, what used to have my store, I often thought it really was a shame that almost no one but the Jews had the money for diamonds and pearls. And once I even said so out loud. Then Herr Zwirner laughed in my face and said: ‘Don’t be a fool, Mauler, but be glad the Jews buy and put money in circulation. Or would you like it better if they was to hide and bury their money like the peasants? You’ll see, if the anti-Semitism business keeps on the rich Jews’ll leave the country—and then all the stores’ll have to close down!’

“Well—and now both the rich and poor Jews have left Austria, and we’re all finished good and proper!”

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.”

CHAPTER XV.
HERR LABERL TURNS

The next few days were marked by another event that caused great consternation in uncompromisingly Christian-Socialist circles. The Mayor of Vienna, after Schwertfeger the most influential man of the country—Herr Karl Maria Laberl fell over, figuratively speaking. Not voluntarily, however, but because he was tripped up by the President of the Municipal Council, Herr Kallop. City Hall had long known that Herr Kallop’s name should really be read from right to left, that is, “Pollak,” as this had been his grandfather’s name. When the Jews were still in Vienna the story was told among them that the old Pollak had been an immigrant grain-dealer from Galicia, who became converted on his marriage to a Christian. The name Kallop had been adopted by his son, who was a lawyer highly respected in Christian circles; he married a Christian also, so that, according to the Schwertfeger law, the grandchildren of the old Pollak were full-blooded Aryans. Josef Kallop, the lawyer’s son, was a ne’er-do-well in his youth, unable to complete the studies required for admission to the bar; but he became a successful Municipal Councillor. Infinitely more shrewd than most of his colleagues, he soon became the Presiding Officer, and for quite some time had been the right hand of Mayor Laberl.

It was Herr Kallop, therefore, who brought about the fall of the Mayor. He began by explaining that a great change was impending.

“As you can clearly see, Herr Laberl, things can’t go on this way. The near future will bring disturbances that will be quite serious; and one of these days the government will go up in thin smoke, so to speak. If you don’t want to go up with it you’d better change your course before it’s too late. Don’t stick too closely to Schwertfeger; admit that expulsion of all the Jews was going a little too far. And then, in the midst of the rumpus that is inevitable, all Vienna will suddenly stop and say to itself: ‘Our Mayor is a smart fellow—he knows when we’ve had enough of a good thing, and he’ll be able to help us out of this fix.’”

Herr Karl Maria Laberl nodded, stroked his fine white beard, and seemed entirely convinced by this superior reasoning; yet he asked, a little timorously:

“That’s quite right, what you say there, my dear Kallop; it’s just what I’ve been thinking for a long time. But how am I to go about it?”

“Very simple, Your Honor. We call a meeting of the Christian-Socialist citizens’ league of, say, the First District, for there the business men are actually in a panic. And then you’ll make a speech which we’ll work out together.”

This was done; it must be noted, however, that the “working out together” of the speech consisted in Herr Laberl’s memorizing the oration composed by the President of the Municipal Council. At the meeting of the citizens’ league Herr Laberl greeted the assembly with the utmost solemnity, spoke of the grave times and unbearable conditions, and finally said:

“The demand for new elections is becoming more and more stormy; and I am the last man to refuse to heed that demand. On the contrary, I am, personally, in favor of doing what the people want, and of determining, by means of new elections, whether the voters of Austria still approve of what the government did more than two years ago or whether they want a radical change. I—and doubtless you also, gentlemen—see only one goal: To make possible the rehabilitation of our country, to bring back the light of day to our unfortunate nation, hurled into a labyrinth by the Entente—but, perhaps, by grave errors of its own also. Gentlemen, we may be guided by no dogma, no fanaticism, no personal likes or dislikes, but only by the thought of what is best for our land!”

Kallop saw to it that the Municipal Press Bureau gave over the Mayor’s speech to the papers word for word that very night; and the next day even the simplest among the Viennese knew that at the proper moment Karl Maria Laberl would leave the Chancellor in the lurch.

When Dr. Schwertfeger read the Mayor’s speech in the morning papers—of which only the Arbeiter-Zeitung provided adequate comment—bitter gall rose in his mouth, and he spat it out. Then he looked long, forlornly, dully over the public park, covered with a white shroud.

But in the City Hall Herr Kallop gaily rubbed his hands. And after making sure that neither a colleague nor an inferior was in the room, he said loudly and distinctly, “Mazeltov!” knocking thrice on the under side of the table. Incidentally, it might be divulged that Herr Kallop admired a voluptuous Jewess—twice divorced, to be sure, but blessed with many millions by way of compensation—who now lived in exile in Prague. And he longed for nothing so much as for the return of her person and her millions to his beloved country—if for no other reason, than because he could not possibly cope any longer with the rising cost of living on his salary as President of the Municipal Council, and because, furthermore, he had made a mistake in his speculations on the Polish mark.

CHAPTER XVI.
“DOWN WITH THE GOVERNMENT!”

The Mardi Gras season of this year was powerless to improve the humor of the Viennese. Bitter cold, much snow, rooms unheated because a hundred-weight of coal cost a hundred thousand kronen, failure after failure, the closing of a great bank in which many had deposited their money.

Dances and fancy dress balls were held in the sign of the peasant costume exclusively. As extravagant dress was not being indulged in, necessity was made into a virtue, only country dances were given, and Vienna looked more like a country fair than a metropolis.

The city’s theatrical life had come to an absolute standstill. The best members of the National Opera were constantly playing abroad, the Philharmonic Orchestra was just finishing a tour in South America, the private theatres had degenerated into provincial troupes with inadequate direction, inferior actors, and antiquated scenery; and visiting artists from abroad had long ago stopped coming because Vienna could not pay the great sums they demanded. Besides, some papers had lately had to suspend publication because the number of their readers was constantly diminishing; and suddenly the alarm was sounded again: “The krone is falling!”

Enormous quantities of kronen were being sold on the foreign exchanges, so that Zurich soon rated them at the thirty-thousandth part of a centime. Prices rose in proportion, and the populace began to grow desperate. When a pound of fat cost a half million kronen there appeared again the mysterious little leaflet of the League of True Christians, with the question:

“How long, Citizens of Vienna, will you bear with this government? When will you at last make the National Assembly dissolve, and force new elections to be called?”

The morning of the next day was marked by looting in the markets; the embittered housewives stormed the stands, beat their owners, and took possession of the foodstuffs. In Favoriten the riot developed a revolutionary character; but the National Guard, which was called out, refused to proceed against the women.

In the National Assembly, which was in session just then, not only the Social-Democrats, but some Christian-Socialists and Pan-Germans as well, put the question to the government as to what it proposed to do to help the desperate people. The Social-Democrats made a declaration of urgency and moved that the government immediately call new elections, so that the voters could decide themselves whether they were prepared to bear present conditions any longer.

Deathly pale, the Chancellor rose to rejoin.

“To call new elections at this moment of general confusion would be to deliver the fate of our country into the hands of the radical elements, and to open our gates wide to the Jews! The proudest and greatest work ever created by the Austrian legislature would collapse because we are not patient enough, because we are not capable of sufficient self-denial to endure present conditions and overcome our difficulties. I know that international Jewry is mixed up in this, and doubtless agitators, bought with Jewish money, are working to....”

The rest of the Chancellor’s words were lost in the terrific hullabaloo that now filled the house. The Social-Democrats knocked on their desks, the galleries shouted wildly, and even from the benches of his partisans came calls like “Have you proof for your statements?”

At six o’clock in the evening the Social-Democrats’ declaration of urgency was still being discussed; and its proponents were very evidently doing their utmost to prolong the session. Every speaker talked for hours; as soon as one had finished another took the floor—most of the deputies had stopped listening long ago, and were refreshing themselves at the buffet, and even the ministers’ bench was empty. Only Schwertfeger, rigidly sullen, his arms folded, was still in his seat.

Suddenly new life came into the house. The rumor spread that masses of working-men were advancing; immediately after the sound of the workers’ song was heard from afar, the cheering and shouting of the excited mob became louder and louder, until finally a single howl penetrated the closed windows:

“Down with the government! Down with the National Assembly! We demand new elections!”

Great crowds with their flags and standards were surrounding the Parliament Building, new processions were constantly arriving; all the workers of Greater Vienna, clerks and office employes—all had marched out in closed groups from the factories and shops, stores and offices.

Now powerful blows thundered on the doors of the building, which had been locked hurriedly—now a hailstorm of stones rattled against the windows—now a deputation of workers had forced an entry. Their leader—an iron-worker by the name of Stürmer, a powerful fellow with bright eyes and an enormous head—took up his position in the midst of the deputies, who, panic-struck, were huddled together like sheep during a storm; and he declared briefly:

“The army is with us, and so are the younger men on the police force. Either the government dissolves Parliament within ten minutes and orders new elections to be called immediately, or the masses will proceed with violence. The bitterness of the people is boundless; this time the middle classes stand behind the workers, and the question is not political, but one of actual desperation. The women are the most furious—listen to them shrieking for firing the building. If the government does not give in we will not answer for the consequences!”

And the inevitable happened. After a brief consultation with the Christian-Socialist and Pan-German party leaders the government announced that it would submit to the terror, would dissolve the Assembly, and would call new elections immediately. The Chancellor handed in his resignation then and there, but his colleagues and the party chiefs adjured him not to desert them at this critical moment; he consented, therefore, to keep the reins of government in his hands until after the elections.

When the excited mob was informed of the dissolution of the National Assembly the tension was transformed into wild joy; and in the evening that followed the wine supply of Vienna suffered considerable diminution.

Even the Frenchman, Henry Dufresne, who had witnessed the memorable meeting from the gallery, drank a great deal too much, all alone in his studio. The next morning, however, he was in perfect condition again; he made an excellent sketch for the title page of one of Zola’s novels, and when Lotte came to him, snow-covered and with cold red cheeks, he picked her up and swung her around.

Lotte was in as high spirits as he, for after reading the morning papers her father had said to her very gravely:

“I see a great conflict in store for you, my child! Everything indicates that Leo Strakosch will soon be able to return to Vienna. And then you’ll have to choose between him, whom you loved so much and whom I would welcome as a son, and this mysterious Frenchman, whom we have never met!”

When Lotte smilingly replied that she would like to have both Leo and the Frenchman, Hofrat Spineder became really angry, called her frivolous and immoral, and required much coaxing before he could be placated again.

But now Lotte sat on her lover’s knee and kissed Henry Dufresne and Leo Strakosch, combined in one person, with great enthusiasm.

CHAPTER XVII.
PREPARATIONS

Leo, who had almost no chance to speak with anyone except Lotte and his cleaning woman, had lately made the acquaintance of two men whom he considered important. One was the Deputy Wenzel Krötzl, the other the proprietor of the great department store in the Kärtnerstrasse, Herr Habietnik.

Leo had met Krötzl in the following manner: Returning home late one night from the coffee-house where he used to read his papers and magazines, he found a man lying on the bottom step, very much the worse for liquor, weeping bitterly and making vain efforts to get on his feet. Leo helped him to his apartment, which was located under his own studio, and discovered, by the way, that he had before him the honorable Deputy Wenzel Krötzl, whose avocation was that of real estate profiteer. Not only was this advertised on the door, but as he reeled forward and back Herr Krötzl persisted in proclaiming at the top of his voice:

“If any’un shayzh I’m drunk he’zh a crook an’ a Jew beshidezh! I’m a duly ’lected dep’ty an’ memmer o’ the Nash’n’l ’Shembly, an’ I got fifty houzhezh to shell w’at ushed to b’long to them Jew shwine!”

In the course of time Leo had opportunity to learn that Herr Krötzl was not only a rabid anti-Semite but also a notorious drunkard, who usually had a drop too much even at breakfast at the Parliament buffet. However, he had considerable gifts of persuasion, and was quite popular among his constituents for his homely way of putting things. He was a widower, and from time to time harbored in his home a presumable housekeeper—occasionally one that had barely passed the legal limit of fourteen years.

It was in a much more conventional manner that Leo met Herr Habietnik. M. Dufresne was accustomed to supply his wants in the line of ties and underwear in the Kärtnerstrasse department store, which in spite of its epidemic of woolen still carried the best wares; and on one such occasion he had entered into conversation with Herr Habietnik. The latter was delighted to wait personally on this Frenchman of distinction who bore himself impeccably and knew that a blue cheviot suit required a pearl-gray silk tie. There ensued an animated talk in the course of which Leo saw how deeply the intelligent merchant suffered from prevailing conditions. Thereafter the two frequently met in the store, and finally made occasional appointments to meet in the Grabencafé.

After the National Assembly had been dissolved Leo hastened to get in touch with Herr Habietnik again, and in the course of the conversation asked him for his opinion on future developments.

“Well, the Socialists are working full steam again, and will win back the votes they lost the last time. The Christian-Socialists and Pan-Germans have lost their heads, and haven’t come out with their platform as yet; but of course everyone who is not a Social-Democrat will have to vote for one of the two.”

“So that the Jewish law may remain in force?”

“Maybe, if the Socialists don’t get the two-thirds majority necessary for every constitutional amendment. For I’m afraid that the Christian-Socialists and Pan-Germans won’t have the courage to repeal the special legislation against the Jews. I mean—I should say I hope, for if the Jews come back they may eventually even take away the store from me.”

“Nonsense,” Leo declared energetically. “No one can take from you what you have. Perhaps they’ll buy it from you, or the former owner will content himself with a partnership with you. But the most important thing is that you’ll be able to throw out the Alpine hats and woolen skirts, and will be able to arrange your displays as you used to.”

Habietnik’s eyes shone as he replied with genuine warmth:

“Yes, indeed! That’s the most important thing! When I think that there might be life and luxury here again, as in the old days—no, that dream is too beautiful to come true.”

“Listen here, Herr Habietnik,” said Leo, laying his hand on the merchant’s arm, “you’re the man to make this dream come true. We are still weeks away from the elections. That’s long enough for the formation of a Citizens’ Party, consisting of the liberal elements, the solid merchants, scholars, lawyers, artists, and industrialists, with the frank and open motto: ‘The repeal of the special legislation against the Jews!’ Take it up today, form a committee of twelve, to include three merchants, three industrialists, three steadily employed office workers, and three men of the free academic professions. Since you have no newspaper at your disposal as yet, print ten thousand posters, organize district committees, make propaganda from street to street and from house to house, and you cannot fail to be successful. I am a stranger and therefore not as familiar with conditions as you; but this enables me to judge more objectively, and I am quite sure that a considerable section of the public will greet the new party with great enthusiasm.”

Herr Habietnik was all enthusiasm. That very evening he gathered about fifty downtown merchants, manufacturers, and lawyers, and at one o’clock in the morning there was organized a committee that had at its disposal a fund amounting to millions, pledged by the members of the group.

The new party was called “the Party of the Active Citizens of Austria,” stood on a wholly liberal-bourgeois platform, and began its work with an animated and thorough campaign of agitation. No one except Herr Habietnik knew that it was the Frenchman Dufresne who composed the leaflets and proclamations.

Their success surpassed their wildest expectations. Formerly the people had been highly suspicious of every attempt to found a democratic bourgeois party, because the Jews would always push themselves to the fore. But this time it was a purely Christian matter—the names of the leaders were sufficient guarantee that this was no conspiracy hatched by exiled Jews—and all the people who had been harmed by the Jewish law crowded the committee headquarters to join the new party. They came in swarms, the merchants, the jewelers, the assistants of the great tailors, the unemployed chauffeurs—they brought their wives, and the rush became ever greater, in spite of the hue and cry raised by the Christian-Socialist papers. The Arbeiter-Zeitung kept quiet, refraining from all aggression. Its chiefs knew that while the Party of Active Citizens would doubtless take many votes from the Social-Democrats, it would, on the other hand, attract all the votes that usually remained uncast, and some of those that would have gone to the Christian-Socialists and Pan-Germans. So it limited itself to an occasional polemic against some plank of the Citizens’ platform; but in doubtful districts there even were some secret combines of the two parties.

As April third, the date which had been set for the election, approached, the entire world began to show interest in the outcome. The foreign exchanges, adopting an attitude of waiting, permitted the krone to rest peacefully in the depths; in Vienna the excitement grew hourly, and gave rise to repeated excesses and malignant riots. For all the parties worked with every means at their disposal: The anti-Semites shouted of treason, and told hair-raising stories of the international conspiracy of the Jews; the Social-Democrats agitated against the peasants—who, they said, were robbing the workers of the city—and against the Christian demagogues who had only wanted to enrich themselves through the expulsions of the Jews; the new Citizens’ Party, however, continually put out enormous posters that demonstrated with figures the terrible misery prevailing in Vienna since the expulsion, and showed how the city had actually degenerated into a gigantic village, how all the spirit and enterprise had vanished from its life. Over and over again, in every key and variation, they asserted:

“The special legislation against the Jews must be repealed. But at the same time it will be the business of a wise and conscientious government to keep out those elements that did not reside in Vienna before the world war, unless they can prove before a competent court, composed of members of the middle and working classes, that they are willing and able to do useful, productive, valuable work which is essential for the common good of Austria.”

In the Chancellor’s office there were daily sessions that lasted far into the night, where consultations were held as to the best way of counteracting the new party and the re-invigorated Socialist group. Schwertfeger had had the right instinct. An enormous new loan had to be floated, the krone had to rise, so that the people would see how solidly all Christendom stood behind them—then the government would be victorious. Immediately after the dissolution of the Parliament Professor Trumm, the Minister of Finance, had hurried to Berlin, Paris, and London, to beg and to plead. In vain! The great Christian leagues abroad, the French anti-Semites, the Dutch Christians—all expressed their sympathy and friendship, inquired eagerly after the fate of the many millions they had already sacrificed to the cause, and refused to unseal their pockets again. Most disappointing of all was the reaction of the American billionaire, Mr. Huxtable, on whom they had counted with absolute certainty. He answered none of their telegrams or pleas; and ten days before the election there came a cable from the Austrian government’s confidential agent in New York, with this crushing message:

“Huxtable unapproachable. Secretly married to Jewish girl from Chicago. Intends to sell loan given Austria three years ago to Kuhn and Loeb Banking Company for quarter of value.”

Schwertfeger began to freeze into his now habitual gloom, the anti-Semitic chiefs lost their heads entirely; but Mayor Laberl did something that created a tremendous sensation. Three days before the election he resigned from the Christian-Socialist Citizens’ Club, and joined the Party of Active Citizens. And more than half of the Municipal Council followed his example.

On this day a warm wind blew away the last traces of snow from the hills about Vienna. And in the Billrothstrasse studio two young people were clasped in an ardent and yearning embrace. He whispered:

“Oh, when will you be mine?”

And she replied dreamily:

“If you could only take off that little beard—it tickles me so!”

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE ELECTION

The election called forth an interest unprecedented in all the world. Old men, invalids, and cripples went to the ballot-boxes; and in the afternoon, when the polls were closed, it was known that ninety-nine per cent of the enfranchised citizens of Vienna had performed their duty to their country. Then the counting of the votes began throughout the land, lasting till early in the morning; and in the forenoon extra editions of the Arbeiter-Zeitung and the Weltpresse announced the amazing result.

Only the rural districts had remained faithful to the Christian-Socialists and Pan-Germans. Vienna had elected the candidates of the Socialists and the Citizens’ Party almost exclusively, as had also the smaller towns and the industrial region of Austria. The new Parliament, therefore, was composed as follows: Seventy Social-Democrats, thirty-six members of the Active Citizens’ Party, thirty Christian-Socialists, and twenty-four Pan-Germans. This gave a hundred and six votes for the repeal of the special anti-Jewish legislation, and fifty-four for its continuance. Leo’s beautiful dream—and that of the liberal Citizens and Socialists—therefore seemed destroyed, for they lacked exactly one vote for the two-thirds majority without which the Constitution could not be amended. In spite of their overwhelming defeat, in spite of the fact that the government had to resign immediately to make room for a Social-Democratic ministry, the anti-Semites were rejoicing, and paraded about the town with banners inscribed with the slogan: “The Jews are staying out!”

Just one thing did the vanquished victors fear. The majority had announced that it would wait only for the second session of the newly elected House, which would take place in a week, before it would put forward a declaration of urgency for the repeal of the Jewish law and for the restoration of freedom of movement for everyone without discrimination. But what would happen if a Christian-Socialist or Pan-German deputy were to fail to appear at the session? Voluntary absence was beyond the imagination. But, after all, one of the deputies from the rural districts might fall ill or meet with an accident, and this one would assure the enemy of his two-thirds majority. To prevent such a calamity the minority parties, on the day before the assembly of the House, ordered special trains with attendant physicians for all their deputies. In this way they believed themselves secured against any disastrous incident. For Vienna itself precautions were unnecessary, for there their one and only representative was the realtor Herr Wenzel Krötzl, elected by the vine-growers and inn-keepers of the Nineteenth District, who were very prosperous in Jew-purged Vienna. They were sure of him in every respect, and he enjoyed excellent health.

Now this Herr Krötzl was Leo’s last hope, while Lotte almost broke down under the terrible disappointment. She wept all day long, and scarcely could muster the energy to hasten every day to Leo, who vainly endeavored to inspire her with courage and faith in the outcome. Hofrat Spineder, himself deeply hurt and disappointed by the continuance of the anti-Jewish law, could understand his daughter no longer, and began to harbor grave doubts as to her reason. He was very much worried as he discussed her remarkable behavior with his wife.

“What in the world does it mean? She’s forgotten Leo, spends half the day with a new lover, this Frenchman whom I’m beginning to hate without ever having seen him, suddenly declares that she’d like to have both Leo and Dufresne, and now, when Leo can’t come back, she sits there and cries her eyes out. I think the girl’s out of her head!”

Frau Spineder sighed deeply.

“I can’t understand it myself, dear. I don’t know my own child any more, and I’ve no idea as to what’s going on in her heart. But in any case, if it develops that the Jewish law remains in force, we must insist on meeting this M. Dufresne.”

Herr Spineder nodded.

“Yes, indeed! And if Lotte refuses again, or tries to postpone the matter, we’ll send her to Klagenfurt, to her Aunt Minna!”...

After days and nights of strenuous thought Leo finally evolved a plan that would decide whether he could remain in Vienna openly or would have to go back to France. If the law were not repealed his departure would become a matter of urgent necessity, for his friend Henry Dufresne, whose name he bore, himself wanted to return to Paris from southern France, and thenceforth Leo’s reckless game would be in danger of discovery.

CHAPTER XIX.
A DISASTROUS DRINK

On the day of the opening of the National Assembly—that is, the day before the first vital session—Leo Strakosch, equipped with a valise, made various purchases. At Sacher’s he bought, for an outrageous sum that once would have paid for an entire building on the Ringstrasse, a Strassbourg paté de foie gras in the original dish; and in the Hotel Imperial he acquired three bottles of a delicious white Burgundy, three bottles of the heaviest and most costly Bordeaux wines, and a bottle of ancient French cognac. In the evening he waited before the entrance of his house until he saw Herr Krötzl, about to go to a bar after the solemn opening session of the Assembly. Leo congratulated him heartily on his re-election, and said:

“My dear sir, I should also like to attend the historic session of the House tomorrow. The meeting begins at eleven, so I’ll order my car for ten o’clock; and if you’ve nothing against it, I’ll drive you over.”

Herr Krötzl felt highly flattered at the cordiality of the aristocratic and apparently very wealthy young Frenchman. Thanking him profusely, he accepted the invitation, adding:

“I’d be much obliged to you if you’d come to me at ten o’clock, ’cause then I won’t be takin’ no chances of sleepin’ too late. My housekeeper, the poor fool, might forget to wake me, an’ I sleep so sound that the alarm can’t get me up. An’ that’d be a fine howdy-do, if I was to oversleep tomorrow. Twenty-four hours later we’d have them damned pigs o’ Jews back in Vienna!”

Henry Dufresne seemed to take his self-assumed task of saving Austria from the Jews very seriously, for he rang Herr Krötzl’s doorbell at only half-past nine. A slovenly, unwashed, but still rouged and powdered young thing opened the door, and without further ado let in the handsome Frenchman, whom she knew well and who was carrying a large box. She was a little disappointed that he did not pay the slightest attention to her and her considerably exposed body, but merely gave her a bank-note and asked her please to fetch the morning papers immediately from the store.

In the anteroom Leo made a great to-do about unpacking his box until the girl had gone out on her errand; then he went quickly into the kitchen, set the cuckoo clock back a full hour, tip-toed out into the living-room and did the same to the grandfather clock there, and finally, without knocking, noiselessly entered the door of the Deputy’s bed-room, where the honorable gentleman lay under the covers, thunderous snores issuing from his open mouth. Leo immediately discovered the gold watch on the night table, pointing to a quarter of ten. In a flash it was set to a quarter of nine, and then the Frenchman entered on the unpleasant task of waking Herr Krötzl, the Viennese pillar of the Christian-Socialist party. It took quite some time before Krötzl at last opened his swollen little eyes and grasped the situation.

“Oh, Lord, it’s Herr Dufresne—is it as late as all that?” Then, glancing at his watch, he growled: “’Tain’t even nine yet! I could ’a’ slept another hour!”

“Yes,” laughed Leo, “but I know a better way of entertaining you and myself. Just think, when I came home last night I found a package from Paris, and in it the best wines of France. Well, since I’m really happy about your success, I thought we could celebrate our victory a little, just we two, before we go on to the Parliament. For you, my dear sir, being a connoisseur, will soon admit that never in all your life have you tasted a wine to compare with the one I’ll pour out for you now.”

Electrified, Herr Krötzl leaped out of his bed, got partly dressed, and admiringly stroked one after the other the six wine-bottles that stood before him with all the earmarks of venerable age. There was white bread, and the Strassbourg patty drew from Herr Krötzl a half-belch, half-grunt that became a hymn of joy as the first glass of the golden Burgundy trickled down his throat.

“W’at a wine! If I c’d have that all the time I’d be a diff’rent guy! No wonder you Frenchies know how to live, if you got wine like this!”

The second glass was drained to the victory of Herr Krötzl, the third to “Down with the Jews,” the fourth to “Long live beautiful Vienna, free of Jews.” Then the neck of a bottle of blood-red Bordeaux was broken, and when only the dregs were left in it, and Leo was uncorking the third bottle, Krötzl declared he loved him like a brother. At the fourth bottle he acquainted the Frenchman with the secrets of his sexual life, and proclaimed that skirts over fourteen was nothin’ more nor less’n old women. When they reached the sixth bottle Leo, unobserved by the half-dazed and quite dizzy Krötzl, mixed the wine with an equal amount of cognac; but now they had to stop, for else it would have been impossible ever to bring the worthy Deputy downstairs. Besides, the correct time was twelve o’clock, so that there was danger of Krötzl’s colleagues coming in at any moment to look for him. Leo’s own sobriety after this drinking party was due solely to the circumstance that he had each time emptied the contents of his glass under the table, on the beautiful Persian rug.

With hard work Leo finished dressing the deputy, practically carried him down several flights of stairs, and, with the assistance of the chauffeur, put him in the interior of the closed car. The chauffeur had grinned as he nodded to the Frenchman, whom he often drove about the town. Leo entered, sat down beside Krötzl, who was lying in the corner dead drunk, and the car rolled forward at moderate speed.

The day before Leo had had an important conference with the chauffeur, beginning with the question:

“How’d you like to make a hundred French francs?”

The chauffeur’s eyes had grown to the size of saucers, his face had flushed and he had gasped:

“Sir, I’ll take you to the moon for a hundred francs!”

But the Frenchman’s demands proved much more modest. He said that he wanted to settle a wager, and that the chauffeur would merely have to wait before the house in the Billrothstrasse until he, M. Dufresne, would enter the car with a presumably very tipsy gentleman. Thereupon the automobile was to go townward to the Opera, where the Frenchman would get out. Then the ride was to continue to the large insane asylum in Steinhof, far out in the extreme southwestern section of the city. There the chauffeur was to wait until his inebriated fare would give a sign of life. This was followed by further detailed instructions for the quick-witted chauffeur.

Everything went off as had been planned. Even before the car reached the Opera Herr Krötzl, after a violent attack of sickness, was enjoying the sleep of the just tippler, so that his companion could leave him without any difficulty. While Leo hastened to the Parliament the chauffeur continued on his half hour’s ride to Steinhof; once there he calmly stopped in the middle of the road, and smoked one of Leo’s good cigarettes after the other. It was nearly two o’clock when Herr Krötzl finally woke up, his head throbbing. Minutes passed before he remembered where he was, and realized that he was all alone in an automobile, and covered with filth from head to foot. Finally, after some more minutes, he saw that he was not before the Parliament Building at all, but in the immediate vicinity of the insane asylum in Steinhof. Confused he consulted his watch, which, being an hour slow, pointed to one o’clock. Horrified, Krötzl flung open the door, and vented a furious flood of abuse on the chauffeur, who declared with equanimity that he had understood Steinhof to be indicated as the goal, and that the other gentleman had got out on the way. Thereupon Krötzl tore his hair, wept and shouted, almost went raving mad, called the chauffeur a traitor, hinted at a fearful conspiracy and revenge, and finally pleaded with the driver, who was fast losing his polite attitude, to drive to the Parliament Building at full speed.

The car actually went back about a thousand yards; then, however, it stopped, far away from any human habitation, and the chauffeur, shrugging his shoulders, announced that he could not go on, as the motor was out of order.

Entirely sober by this time, Krötzl now sprinted the thousand yards back to the insane asylum. There he confronted the door-man with so much vehemence that the good fellow took him for an escaped inmate, and summoned some keepers. Another half hour passed before Krötzl was taken to a telephone; he could not, of course, be connected with the Parliament Building immediately, as all its lines were busy; and when he finally did get his connection, and the secretary of his party came to the other end of the wire, a voice shouted in his ear that he was a drunken swine, a crook, bought and paid for by the Jews, and that all was over long ago.

“The Jewish law has been repealed!” With these words ringing in his ears the wretched Deputy fell in a profound and beneficent swoon.

CHAPTER XX.
THE REPEAL OF THE ANTI-JEWISH LAW

When Leo entered the Parliament Building the newly elected Presiding Officer had just greeted the ministers he had chosen the day before to replace the old cabinet, and had informed the Assembly that there had been presented two declarations of urgency to the effect that Paragraph Eleven of the Constitution, prohibiting sojourn in Austria to Jews or persons of Jewish origin, should be repealed.

A Social-Democratic deputy rose to move that the declarations of urgency be taken up immediately. In spite of the noisy objection of the Christian-Socialists and Pan-Germans the majority voted for the motion, whereupon the Presiding Officer gave the floor to Dr. Wolters, the leader of the Social-Democrats, as the first speaker in favor of the proposal.

Wolters pointed out that he and the other members of his party had opposed the law even three years ago as a direct blow at the most sacred rights of man, and as indicative of retrogression into the darkest of the Dark Ages. At that time the opposition had been hooted down, abused, and crowded out of the hall; today, however, the once misled and deluded people had brought them back in such numbers that the power now lay in their hands and in those of other liberal-minded men. Continuing, Wolters sketched the events of the past few years, pointed to the terrible collapse of Austria, cited striking statistics, and closed with these words:

“The audacious, too audacious, work of the man who once assumed divine powers and now could not even obtain a seat in this House, has gone to pieces; outside a hundred thousand unemployed citizens, together with all our working but desperate people, are waiting for the new House to open our gates to a new future, and to give our Jewish fellow-citizens the opportunity to work again side by side with us—not against us—to employ their intelligence, their industry, and their creative force in the interests of our sorely tried and almost ruined country.”

After the applause, to which the galleries contributed their share, had died down, the second majority speaker, Herr Habietnik, who had been elected by the downtown business men, was given the floor. In a whimsical speech, frequently interrupted by loud laughter, he described the poverty-stricken, provincialized Vienna of the day, regaled his audience with tales of his experiences in his line of business, and declared:

“The tiniest hamlet is a metropolis compared with Vienna today. Vienna has become a huge village with a million and a half inhabitants, and if we don’t let the Jews in now we’ll soon see country fair booths in the Kärtnerstrasse instead of exclusive shops, and live stock markets being conducted on the Stephansplatz. This retrogression, against which they are powerless to do anything, has brought profound despair into the hearts of the citizens of Vienna. By deserting the Christian-Socialist party the Viennese women and girls have not been the last to indicate that they want to have again a flourishing, gay Vienna, a city of luxurious life, even though it may have a slight Oriental tinge.”

Herr Habietnik’s further remarks were lost in an odd restlessness that was spreading over the house. What had happened? The Right had at last discovered that Deputy Krötzl was absent, and the Christian-Socialists and Pan-Germans were in a panic. They did not even listen to their own speaker, but sent out ushers with automobiles to fetch Krötzl from his downtown office or from his house in the Billrothstrasse.

The situation might have been saved if someone had had the presence of mind to prompt the minority speaker to continue his speech for hours, until Krötzl should put in his appearance. But they had lost their heads entirely; the Christian-Socialist speaker, Herr Wurm, even curtailed his speech when he noticed the disturbance and saw his colleagues going out. And in a few minutes a Citizens’ motion to close the debate and set a five minute limit for all further speeches was passed by the required two-thirds majority.

In vain did the surprised anti-Semites make a loud outcry; the Socialist Presiding Officer ruled with an iron hand, and permitted none of the previously announced speakers to talk for more than five minutes. Laboring under terrific tension, and greatly agitated, the deputies poured back into the hall in order to be present at the forth-coming roll-call.

Herr Krötzl had not yet arrived; the ushers could report only that he had not been in his office at all, and had left his home in the morning in a noticeably flushed state, accompanied by another gentleman.

A Pan-German made the last attempt to save the day. Requesting and being given the floor to speak on standing orders, he said:

“Deputy Krötzl is not present, and we have indications that he is being detained by force; indeed, we have cause to fear that he is the victim of foul play. This being the case, the House cannot possibly vote on a law that will determine the fate of our country. If the new majority of this House possesses the slightest sense of decency it will agree with me that we must immediately adjourn for two hours. During that time we shall probably learn whether our esteemed colleague, Deputy Krötzl, is still among the living.”

The import of these words could not be ignored. They were followed by a dead silence.

If Krötzl had really been prevented by force from attending the session, they would have to wait, voli-noli.

At this most critical moment a gentleman with a little beard came on the floor furtively and unobserved; he beckoned Herr Habietnik to him, and, breathing hard with agitation, whispered something in his ear, whereupon Herr Habietnik asked for permission to speak.

“I can give the honorable House my word as a gentleman that Herr Krötzl has not been murdered; nor has he been prevented by force from attending this exceedingly important session. At the present moment Herr Krötzl is somewhere in our city, in an automobile, so soundly asleep as the result of indulging in the flowing bowl that the chauffeur is unable to rouse him. For the estimable Herr Krötzl, this sole Viennese ornament of the Christian-Socialist party, undertook in a small way, to celebrate his victory early this morning, in the company of a jolly neighbor; and he drank decidedly more than he could stand. His neighbor, who has given me this information, and whom I know personally as a reliable man of honor, then entered a taxicab together with Krötzl to come here. But he had to get out before they reached their destination, as he could no longer endure the stench in the car. For Herr Krötzl belongs to the old guard that would rather give up than die. I don’t know where the thoroughly alive corpse of Herr Krötzl happens to be just now; but this doesn’t concern us, and surely no one will demand that we adjourn until Herr Krötzl has sobered up.”

The House rocked with laughter; and now the Presiding Officer called the roll. One hundred and six deputies voted for the elimination of the special anti-Jewish legislation, fifty-three against—and the law was repealed!

This time the hundred thousand men and women who were waiting on the street before the building cried “Hurrah!” instead of “Hail!” They were not as enthusiastic as three years before, but seemed a little ashamed of themselves. However, they had recovered their sense of humor, and jests began to fly through the air again.

Immediately after the vote Leo rushed out of the Parliament Building, jumped into a taxicab, and sped to the Linke Wienzeile, to the Arbeiter-Zeitung. There, pleading urgent business, he obtained an audience with the editor-in-chief, conversing with him privately for half an hour. As he was about to depart the editor warmly shook both his hands, laughing:

“You’ve accomplished something extraordinary, and I rejoice with you with all my heart. I can’t help admiring your impudence! Really, it’s impossible not to....”

“Call it Jewish impudence,” Leo supplemented gaily as he hurried down the stairs.

The extra editions of the newspapers, announcing the end of the exclusion of the Jews, had barely appeared before a second extra edition of the Arbeiter-Zeitung was cried out:

“THE KRONE IS RISING!”

“Zurich: The telegraphed and telephoned reports of the decisive session of the Viennese National Assembly were watched with feverish interest on the stock exchange here. The definite news of the repeal of the anti-Jewish law was immediately followed by large purchases of kronen, the buyers including groups of American and English financiers. The stamped Austrian krone doubled its value by leaps and bounds, and had tripled it by closing time.”

At six o’clock in the evening there appeared a third extra edition that attracted attention throughout Vienna and called forth great merriment mixed with slightly off-color jokes. The announcement was as follows:

“FIRST JEW ARRIVES IN VIENNA.”

“We have the honor to inform the public that the first Jew has just returned to Vienna from his exile. He is the young but already world-famous painter and etcher Leo Strakosch, who, longing for his own country, spent the period of banishment in Paris, leaving that city the day before yesterday to proceed to Lundenburg, on the Austro-Moravian border. When the news of the nullification of the expulsion law was telephoned to him he immediately went on by automobile to his native Vienna. At the present time he is staying at the home of his future father-in-law, Hofrat Spineder, in the Kobenzlgasse, where he is now embracing his faithful and loving fiancée after years of dreary separation and waiting.”

This extra edition represented a well-meant bit of mischievous pleasantry on the part of the editor-in-chief of the Arbeiter-Zeitung. It was followed by an extra edition of the Weltpresse, containing two sensational news items. One was to the effect that the former Chancellor, Dr. Schwertfeger, despondent over the wreck of his nobly and sincerely conceived work, had committed suicide by means of a bullet. The other was an announcement by the Weltpresse that, submitting to the will of the overwhelming majority of the inhabitants of Vienna, it would thenceforth appear as the organ of the new Party of Active Citizens.

CHAPTER XXI.
“MY BELOVED JEW!”

From the office of the Arbeiter-Zeitung Leo had of course gone directly to Grinzing. Lotte, who, together with her parents, was already aware of the results of the Parliamentary session, was waiting for her lover at an open window on the ground floor. And when the automobile drove up and Leo saw her, the passage through the hall seemed too long for him, he swung himself through the window, and an instant later the two young people were in each other’s arms, laughing and weeping at once. In spite of his athletic skill, however, Leo had broken a window-pane when he made his short-cut into the house; and as this caused an audible crash, the Hofrat and his wife, alarmed, hurried in from the neighboring living-room, only to stop in amazement at the sight of their daughter being covered with kisses by a strange bearded man. Until the Hofrat began to cough so energetically that Lotte heard him and, flushing deeply, extricated herself from her lover’s arms to present him to her parents:

“Papa—Mama—this is my fiancé, Henry Dufresne!”

“Leo Strakosch by rights,” he added as he threw himself in the arms of the Hofrat and of his future mother-in-law.

After the joy and confusion of the surprise had abated a little, Herr Spineder did what a Hofrat should do in such a case. He added: “Now, children, tell me everything just as it happened.”

And Frau Spineder did what any good housewife would have done in her place. She cried, declared that she was so excited she couldn’t see straight, and hurried into the kitchen to prepare a supper to fit the occasion.

In the meanwhile the Hofrat, Lotte and Leo conversed in the bathroom, where Leo cut off his beard with a pair of scissors before he shaved and told his story simultaneously. And it was fortunate he did so, for just as he finished shaving and again was a handsome, smooth-faced young man, something quite unexpected happened.

There drove up an automobile containing Herr Habietnik, a Socialist Deputy, and a converted Municipal Councillor, who informed Leo that he absolutely had to go to the City Hall with them in order to appear before the crowds gathered there, and to endure an address by the Mayor.

It was useless to resist—Leo was forced to go along; but Lotte, who assumed the responsibility of bringing him back in time for the evening meal, went with him.

They rode on undisturbed until they reached the Schottentor, where their course was obstructed. For here the crowd was so dense that the car could not go on. Whereupon the Municipal Councillor leaned out, and with excellent intentions, though not very tactfully, shouted to the people:

“Hey, let’s get through! Herr Leo Strakosch, the first Jew to come back to Vienna, has to go to the City Hall!”

These words called forth a thunderous shout of joy. The car was not permitted to pass, but had to wait there with Lotte; Leo, however, now found himself on the shoulders of two sturdy men, and was borne to the City Hall amid the exultant cheers and yells of the masses.

The beautiful building was illuminated again, looked once more like a flaming torch; the men who bore Leo on their shoulders had difficulty in making their way there. And as the trumpets blared the Mayor of Vienna, Herr Karl Maria Laberl, stepped out on the balcony, stretched out his arms in a gesture of benediction, and pronounced an impassioned speech that began with the words:

“My beloved Jew!”

THE END

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.

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Table of Contents

- THE CITY WITHOUT JEWS
- CONTENTS
- INTRODUCTION

- PART ONE

- CHAPTER I. THE ANTI-JEWISH LAW

- CHAPTER II. HERR SCHNEUZEL AND HIS SON-IN-LAW

- CHAPTER III. AT CLOSING TIME
- CHAPTER IV. A SHOT
- CHAPTER V. GIRLS AMONG THEMSELVES
- CHAPTER VI. DR. SCHWERTFEGER
- CHAPTER VII. A MIDDLE-CLASS VIENNESE HOME
- CHAPTER VIII. “MY DEAR CHRISTIANS!”

- PART TWO

- CHAPTER I. LOTTE SPINEDER TO LEO STRAKOSCH, 22 RUE FOCH, PARIS

- CHAPTER II. ROUGH WOOLENS—THE LATEST STYLE
- CHAPTER III. THE OLD-TIMER
- CHAPTER IV. “SOMETHING HE CANNOT FINISH”
- CHAPTER V. HENRY DUFRESNE

- CHAPTER VI. THE END OF THE TENANTS’ PROTECTIVE LAW

- CHAPTER VII. ZWICKERL GOES INTO BANKRUPTCY
- CHAPTER VIII. THE SWEET, GAY YOUNG THINGS
- CHAPTER IX. THE END OF THE HAKENKREUZLER
- CHAPTER X. CHEAP SUMMER-RESORTS
- CHAPTER XI. A STORMY DEBATE
- CHAPTER XII. THE LEAGUE OF TRUE CHRISTIANS
- CHAPTER XIII. A MELANCHOLY CHRISTMAS
- CHAPTER XIV. AN INFLAMMATORY SPEECH
- CHAPTER XV. HERR LABERL TURNS
- CHAPTER XVI. “DOWN WITH THE GOVERNMENT!”
- CHAPTER XVII. PREPARATIONS
- CHAPTER XVIII. THE ELECTION
- CHAPTER XIX. A DISASTROUS DRINK

- CHAPTER XX. THE REPEAL OF THE ANTI-JEWISH LAW

- CHAPTER XXI. “MY BELOVED JEW!”

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE