Genuine deep passions were not at the bottom of all these occupations; Regenburg was a thoroughly apathetic man, mediocre in every direction; his whole object in life was to fill up his superfluous time and spend his superfluous money. He was a man of thirty-five, of insignificant external appearance, but he always took pains to look elegant and chic by following the latest fashion in dress, in behavior, and in the use of slang. As, for example, the fashion had obtained among men, to sit as negligently as possible with the right foot on the left knee, moving the point of the shoe up and down and at the same time caressing the bright-colored silk stocking visible almost to the top; there was no one who let his toes play with more vivacity or expression, or who clasped his own thin ankles more tenderly than he did.
The two men continued their conversation.
“I have no faith in these democratic poses among the sons of rulers,” said Bruning, as he poured himself out a tiny glass of bénédictine.
“As far as I have observed, you take the attitude of ‘I have no faith in it’ toward most things.”
“As a matter of fact, I regard it as a reasonable and useful quality to be a skeptic. When a man has collected some little experiences in life, and possesses some little knowledge of men, and has attained some insight behind the scenes of the various social, political, and ... other comedies which are being played on the world’s stage, one gets along best by putting on the armor of doubt. Can it be that you are an idealist nourished on illusions?”
“I?... Oh, I am just nothing at all—I live and let live.”
“That’s also a reasonable point of view. Well, but I am curious to know what is to be offered in the Rose-Booth yonder. It is interesting to see all the living celebrities trotted out by the great dollar-ringmaster;—the play will certainly remind me of Hagenbeck, who makes long-maned lions and spitting tiger-cats go through their paces in unnatural attitudes. What is still more comic in the whole show is that there seems to be a civilizing and world-improving aim bound up with it—as if this world could be improved! Man remains man, and when I say that, I do not say anything very flattering. And, above all, how can the world be made better by a few self-conceited people making speeches before a few other frivolous people? The only effect that addresses have on me is to make me sleepy. I never attend them on principle.”
“What did you come here for, then?”
“Because an old friend of mine—the poet Chlodwig Helmer—belongs to the lion-tamer Toker’s gang of boarders. I get from this friend what the whole object and aim of the circus of fame-crowned animals amounts to....”
“Well, what is it?”