John Hubert closed the book in which he had been reckoning.
“You would not understand it.”
“But I could learn to....”
“You just go on embroidering, singing. You have no need to know about business. It is not suitable for women. God has created you for other ends.” But this sentence aroused his conscience. He became embarrassed.
“You have not yet forgotten Thomas Illey?” he whispered casting his eyes down.
“I have not forgotten him.”
A few days later Grandfather Jörg came in the evening to take Anne to a concert. In the carriage the old gentleman began to mention Charles Münster.
“Is he too like all the others?” the girl thought and looked sadly at her grandfather. Once he had been to prison for sympathizing with the freedom of others; and now he spoke against his grandchild’s freedom.
In the concert hall the crowd was already large. Innumerable candles burned in the gilt wooden chandelier. Their flames wove a peaceful yellow light in the air. On the platform the piano stood open. The orchestra was tuning up and this sounded like birds with sharp beaks pecking at the stringed instruments.
A few reporters stood near the wall. Anne heard them agree in advance as to what they would say in next day’s papers. In the stalls well-known merchants from the inner town, wives of rich citizens, officers in uniform, and right in front bejeweled ladies in huge crinolines, noble gentlemen in Hungarian national costume.