‘Tonight,’ Frau Mann said turning to Felix, ‘we are going to be amused. Berlin is sometimes very nice at night, nicht wahr? And the Count is something that must be seen. The place is very handsome, red and blue, he’s fond of blue, God knows why, and he is fond of impossible people, so we are invited—‘ The Baron moved his foot in. ‘He might even have the statues on.’
‘Statues?’ said Felix.
‘The living statues,’ she said, ‘he simply adores them.’ Felix dropped his hat; it rolled and stopped.
‘Is he German?’ he said.
‘Oh no, Italian, but it does not matter, he speaks anything, I think he comes to Germany to change money—he comes, he goes away, and everything goes on the same, except that people have something to talk about.’
‘What did you say his name was?’
‘I didn’t, but he calls himself Count Onatorio Altamonte, I’m sure it’s quite ridiculous, he says he is related to every nation—that should please you. We will have dinner, we will have champagne.’ The way she said ‘dinner’ and the way she said ‘champagne’ gave meat and liquid their exact difference, as if by having surmounted two mediums, earth and air, her talent, running forward, achieved all others.
‘Does one enjoy herself?’ he asked.
‘Oh, absolutely.’
She leaned forward, she began removing the paint with the hurried technical felicity of an artist cleaning a palette. She looked at the Baron derisively. ‘Wir setzen an dieser Stelle über den Fluss —‘ she said.