This party was like all the parties that the Geheimrath gave; there was no h.o.m.ogeneity. The official himself called that conciliating the different elements of the country. He also spoke of the "neutral ground" of his house and of the "open tribunal," for each and every opinion. But many Alsatians did not trust this eclecticism and this liberty. Some maintained that Herr Brausig was simply playing a part, and that whatever was said in his house was always known in higher spheres.

Madame Oberle and her children were the last to arrive at the Geheimrath. The German guests welcomed Lucienne, who was intimate with them already. They were polite to the mother, because they knew she only went into Government society under constraint. Wilhelm von Farnow, introduced by Madame Brausig, who alone knew about the officer's plans, bowed ceremoniously to the mother and the young girl, drew himself up erect, stood stiffly, then returned at once to the group of men standing near the mirror.

A servant announced that dinner was served. There was a movement among the black coats, and the guests entered the large room, decorated as at the Oberles' house with evident predilection. But the taste was not the same. The vaulted bays with two mullions, decorated with rose windows in the pointed arch, and filled with stained-gla.s.s, of which at this time only the lead-work was to be seen; the sideboards with torso pillars with sculptured panels; the wainscoting rising to the ceiling and ending in little spires; the ceiling itself divided into numerous sunk panels, and in the carving of which electric lamps shone like fire blossoms: the whole decoration recalled to mind Gothic art.

Jean, who came in one of the last in the procession of diners, gave his arm to pretty Madame Knapple, who had eyes only for the wonderfully made and equally wonderfully worn dress of Madame Rosenblatt. Professor Knapple's little wife thought she saw that Jean Oberle was noticing the same thing. So she said:

"The low neck is indecent. Don't you think so?"

"I find it irreproachable. I think that Madame Rosenblatt must go to Paris for her dresses."

"Yes; you have guessed rightly," answered the homely little woman.

"When one has such a fortune one has often odd fancies, and but little patriotism."

The beginning of the meal was rather silent. Little by little the noise of different conversations rose. They began to drink. M.

Rosenblatt had large b.u.mpers of Rhine wine poured out for him. The two students in spectacles came back to Wolxheim wine, with as serious a mien as if it were some difficult pa.s.sage in the cla.s.sics.

The voices grew louder. The servants' footsteps could no longer be heard on the parquet floor. General conversation began as the froth of intellects had been moved by the light and the wine. Professor Knapple, who had a quiet voice, but a manner of p.r.o.nouncing very clearly and distinctly, was heard above the hum of conversation, when he answered his neighbour, Madame Brausig:

"No; I do not understand that one should join the strong because one is strong. I have always been a liberal."

"You are alluding to the Transvaal perhaps," said the Geheimrath opposite, with a loud laugh, pleased at having guessed.

"Precisely, Herr Geheimrath. It is not political greatness to crush small nations."

"You find that extraordinary?"

"No; very ordinary. But I do say there is nothing to boast about in that."

"Have other nations acted differently?" asked Baron von Fincken.

He turned up his insolent nose. No one carried on the discussion, as if the argument were unanswerable. And the wave of general talk rolled on, intermingling and drowning the private conversations of which it consisted.

Madame Rosenblatt's musical voice broke the hum of talk. She was saying to little Madame Knapple, placed on the other side of the table:

"Yes, madame, I a.s.sure you that the question has been discussed.

Everything is possible, madame; however, I should not have thought that the Munic.i.p.ality of a German town could even discuss such an idea."

"Not so devoid of sense; don't you think so, Professor, you who lecture on aesthetics?"

Professor von Fincken, seated at the right hand of the beautiful Madame Rosenblatt, turned towards her, looked into the depths of her eyes, which remained like an unrippled lake, and said:

"What is it about, madame?"

"I told Madame Knapple that in the Munic.i.p.al Council the question had been raised of sending the Gobelin Tapestries which the town possesses, to Paris to be mended."

"That is right, madame, the noes have it."

"Why not to Berlin?" asked Madame Knapple's pretty red mouth. "Do they happen to work so badly in Berlin?"

The Geheimrath found it time to "conciliate." "To make Gobelin tapestry, without doubt, Madame Rosenblatt, is right, and Paris is necessary; but to mend them! I think--it seems to me--that can be done in Germany."

"Send our tapestry to Paris!" expostulated Madame Knapple. "How do they know if they would ever come back?"

"Oh!" one of the young painters at the end of the table answered gravely. "Oh, madame!"

"How! Oh! You are an Alsatian, sir," said the homely little woman, p.r.i.c.ked by the interjection as if it had been the point of a needle.

"But we--we have the right to be mistrustful."

She had gone too far. No one stood up for her verdict--general conversation stopped, and was replaced by flattering appreciations made by each guest on some quails in aspic which had just been served. Madame Knapple herself came back to subjects with which she was more familiar, for she but rarely took any part in discussions when men were present. She turned towards her neighbour, von Farnow, which prevented her from seeing the elegant Madame Rosenblatt, and Madame Rosenblatt's beautiful dress, and the periwinkle-blue eyes of Madame Rosenblatt, and she undertook to explain to the young man how to do quails in aspic, and how to make "Cup" according to her recipe. However, for the second time their thoughts had been turned to the vanquished nation--and this thought continued to disturb their minds in a vague way, while champagne, German-labelled, was sparkling in the gla.s.ses.

Madame Brausig had only exchanged very unmeaning words with M.

Rosenblatt, her neighbour on the right, and with Professor Knapple, her neighbour on the left, who preferred talking to Madame Rosenblatt, and Baron von Fincken, her _vis-a-vis_, and sometimes with Jean Oberle. It was she, however, who started a fresh discussion, without wishing to. And the conversation rose at once to a height it had not yet reached. The councillor's wife was speaking to M. Rosenblatt--looking all the time angrily at a servant who had just knocked against the chair of her most important guest, Madame Rosenblatt; she was speaking of a marriage between an Alsatian and a German from Hanover, the commandant of the regiment of Foot Artillery No. 10. The iron-master answered quite loudly, without knowing that he was sitting beside the mother of a young girl sought after by an officer:

"The children will be good Germans. Such marriages are very rare, and I regret it, because they add immensely to the Germanisation of this obstinate country."

Baron von Fincken emptied his champagne gla.s.s at a draught and, placing it on the table, said:

"All means are good, because the end is good."

"Certainly," said M. Rosenblatt.

Jean Oberle was the best known of the three Alsatians present, and the best qualified to make a reply, and yet the most disqualified, it seemed to him, to give his opinion, because of the discussions which this question had caused in his own house. He saw that Baron von Fincken had looked at him as he spoke, that Herr Rosenblatt was staring at him, that Professor Knapple cast a glance at his left-hand neighbour, that Rosenblatt smiled with the air of one who would say "Is this little fellow capable of defending his nation?

Will he answer to the spur? Let us see!"

The young man answered, choosing his adversary, and, turning towards the Baron, "On the contrary, I think that the Germanisation of Alsace is a bad and clumsy action."

At the same time his face grew harder and the green in his eyes vibrated, like the green of the forests when the wind blows the leaves of the trees the wrong way.

The Professor of aesthetics looked like a man of the sword.

"Why bad, if you please? Do you look upon the conquest as unpleasant? This is the sequel of that? Do you think so, really? But say so, then!"

In the silence of all present the answer of Jean Oberle fell clear and distinct.

"Yes."

"You dare, sir!"

"Allow me," said the Geheimrath Brausig, stretching out his hand as if to bless them. "Here we are all good Germans, my dear baron! You have no right to suspect the patriotism of our young friend, who is only speaking from a historical point of view!"

Madame Oberle and Lucienne signed to Jean.

"Be quiet! be quiet!"

But Baron von Fincken saw nothing and heard nothing. The bitter pa.s.sion of which his face was the symbol was let loose. He half rose, and leaning forward, with his head over the table, he said:

"France is pretty! united! powerful and moral!"

Little Madame Knapple went on: