Mrs. Gonzola was one hundred per cent maternal: she mothered her husband, her daughters, her friends, her poor, and any stray animal who instinctively came to her for shelter. Joseph was her life’s crowning joy, the realization of a hope long dead—a son! She found him too thin, too pale; poor boy, he had never known the cuisine of Israel, the finest in the world. No Cordon-bleu can equal the Jewish mother, who cooks with the subtlety and cleanliness of religious tradition and puts into her cakes the honey of love. This healthy sane atmosphere was a good tonic for Joseph’s over-excited mind.
Mr. Gonzola’s ethics were very simple. He kept the two principles of life wide apart, and gave “to God what was His, to men, what was theirs.” He was an able man of business, and did not consider a good bargain with legitimate profit, ungodly. Sometimes he had an uneasy feeling; the religious ground was slipping like sand from under his feet. He said to Joseph with a sigh:
“I do not live up to ritual laws as strictly as I should. My daughters won’t let me; but I am going to take you to Frankfort to visit the head of the family, Pedro Gonzala, who has preserved the original spelling of our name and the tradition of our ancestors. In his home you will see pure orthodoxy, but—don’t forget the responsibility is on my shoulders. I have given my word to your mother—and I want to keep it—if possible.”
Joseph laughed. Mr. Gonzola was an honest man.
5
The family of bankers, with branches all over the world, were assembled this year in Frankfort. Pedro Gonzala, despite his great age, was consulted about every detail by the “young” men of the firm, from fifty years old and upward. The “children” under fifty stood meekly silent, and listened to warnings against the ardor of youth and the temptation of speculative times. The house of Gonzola had braved many storms, was sometimes drawn into international financial catastrophes, but it had always kept its honor unimpeached and continued to live up to its reputation as creditors of the world. These cold men of finance led a dual existence. When they stepped over the thresholds of their palatial homes, the world outside was forgotten. They lived their religious life with extreme exactness. Their wives and daughters were faithful to the Law, in their domestic life, their marriage life, and in the education of their children. They were the remains of a vanishing caste, which lived upon its own fanaticism.
When Joseph first met Pedro Gonzala in his private office, he saw a very old man wearing a black silk skull cap, otherwise well groomed and modern in appearance. He was seated at his desk, surrounded by the members of the firm who listened to him with great respect.
The “old gentleman” came to business every day in his carriage, although he had many cars but was never known to ride in them. He was interested in the breeding of horses, frequented the races, and patronized art, music, and the theatre. Most of his time was devoted to philanthropic enterprises, but he kept a firm hand on the ship of finance, of which he remained until the end of his life the undisputed head.
He questioned Joseph about his mother, remarking upon the success of the Gonzola bank in New York. He knew all about “lucky Garrison” who had shown himself very able. He invited Joseph to dinner at his home.
The Gonzala mansion was sheltered from the gaze of the curious, by a closely planted row of very old trees, whose entwined branches symbolized the unity of the family, a treasure-house of antiques, from all parts of the world—collected with taste and discernment by each succeeding generation. The picture gallery was celebrated for its rare masterpieces. Joseph took great delight in a corner of family portraits. But the most cherished treasure of Pedro Gonzala’s home was Ruth, his granddaughter, just approaching womanhood; she was all that was left of his immediate family. The World War had swept the younger men away. He had lived ten years longer than the allotted Biblical time; he was life-worn, but before he went to his long rest, his little Ruth must be married to a righteous man, a student of the Talmud, and—of equal birth. Such a one was difficult to find.