We were hardly speaking and I could think freely of the happenings of this evening which were in a more or less close connexion with what interested me most.
Yes, it was quite true that Doblana was a money grubber. And money was the most important question in all his art ... in all his life, I ought to say. He might, in this respect at least, have been an Englishman, a Londoner, a City man.
And suddenly I was struck by a thought.
Up to now my idea had been that Mr. Doblana suspected his daughter of some love affair. Had I myself not felt something like mistrust?
Yet, why did he not say so? Why, if really he was so interested in questions of money, why did he make such a fuss about a love affair?
So I jumped to the conclusion that there was in Mr. Doblana's mind no suspicion of any secret amours. What had upset him was certainly something that had to do with his money glutting.
We were now in the Prater. Never before had this immense park appeared so beautiful to me. A bench seemed to invite us with open arms to a short visit. And a bench being in that funny German language a female, we accepted. Artists are incorrigible.
As soon as we had sat down Mr. Doblana began lamenting.
"I am in bad luck," he said, "that quarrel this evening ought never to have happened. Somehow I feel that I am surrounded by enemies. There must be a whole gang of them. I have been lured into this discussion, and now I have the whole clique of the Germans against me. You have no idea, Mr. Cooper, what intrigues exist in the theatrical world. They are all jealous because I happen to make a little money out of my ballets. They undermine my whole existence. And I have not only a great many members of the theatrical and musical world against me, but also most of the Court circles. The majority of the Court do not like to see the Archduke Alphons Hector writing ballet books for me. They think he abases himself. They do not know that art never degrades. Of course, he can bear it easily. But I! All my existence depends on it."