"How is she ... you can imagine ... her daughter in prison, her son a conscript—he is living in the barracks at the expense of the State ... just imagine Leo Golowski as a patriot ... and the old man sits in the café and watches the other people playing chess. He himself can't even run nowadays to the ten kreuzers for the chess money."
"Therese's imprisonment must soon be over anyway," said Berthold.
"It still lasts another twelve, fourteen days," replied his father.... "Come, Annerl"—he turned towards the young girl—"it would be really nice of you if you were to show yourself once more in Rembrandtstrasse; the old lady has taken an almost pathetic fancy to you. I really can't understand why," he added with a smile, while he looked at Anna almost tenderly.
She looked straight in front of her and made no answer.
The clock on the wall struck seven. George got up as though he had simply been waiting for the signal.
"Going so soon, Herr Baron?" said Herr Rosner, getting up.
George requested the company not to disturb themselves, and shook hands all round.
"It is strange," said old Stauber, "how your voice reminds one of your poor father."
"Yes, many people have said so," replied George. "I, personally, can't see any trace of it."
"There isn't a man in the world who knows his own voice," remarked old Stauber, and it sounded like the beginning of a popular lecture.