However, if you possess one of those sunny natures such as I pride myself of having, if you know how to find roses among thorns, if you can remember that old Jew who used to say whenever he could: "Gamsoo l'towvo," which means: "This too leads to the best"—you see, being on the classical side I was taught Hebrew in the Special Class and never forgot that sentence—then, m'dear, you will only remember that this bad cold was very nice, inasmuch as it brought you nearer to your beloved Mitzi. You will ever recollect that sweet contact which will have made of your nasty illness a time of continuous joy.
I felt as if I had only begun to live since I was ill, and I was sure that she also experienced for the first time a great, primitive emotion, and that to her nothing else was worth thinking of. She was taking care of me and seemed made quite glorious by this obligation imposed on her. And yet we did not speak, we were awed, all words seemed futile.
The medical man who attended to me was Doctor Bernheim, the same whose acquaintance I had made at the Tobacco Pipe. He was a very intelligent fellow, and we sympathized as much as such a thing is possible between two individuals of thirty years' difference of age. He was a man interested in politics as well as in art, and, what is more remarkable, he was nevertheless a good doctor.
One day I told him how thoroughly incomprehensible the quarrel between Doblana and the other members of the Round Table had seemed to me. This was the beginning of a series of conversations, during which Doctor Bernheim first explained me the complicated question of Austrian nationalities, the struggle between the different races.
There was, above all, the continual strife for superiority between the Western (Austrian) and the Eastern (Hungarian) half of the Monarchy. Then there were in both parts internal contests, for neither was the population of Austria entirely German, nor that of Hungary entirely Magyar. In both halves of the country a large percentage of Slavs was to be found, among which the rising Czech people, both intellectual and industrial, could not be neglected. Of late years German influence had become observable, and there was now in Austria a distinct Pan-Germanic tendency. A tacit understanding existed between the German and Hungarian population, whose purpose was the suppression of all Czech aspirations.
Then there was a Polish question, the Galician Poles demanding to be united with the Russian and German Poles into one Kingdom,—an Italian question, Trieste and Gorizia as well as the Trentino wishing to be incorporated into Italy,—a Rumanian, a Ruthenian, a Serbian question.
Nor was that all. A violent Anti-Semitic movement had been originated by the clerical party, which was jealous of the ever brisk business capacity of the numerous Jews—of which the Doctor himself was one.
In one word, there was everywhere contrariety and quarrelling, dissension and discord.
Mitzi, who sometimes was present at our discussions, was very intransigent. She had an inborn hatred for all what was German and Hungarian, although German was her mother tongue. In her heart she was a Czech. Of modern music she loved only Italian, French, and Czech, but she loathed the modern Germans for their utter lack of feeling. On this point as on so many others there was complete agreement between her and me. I had myself observed that the unrivalled reputation of Vienna as the musical city par excellence was upheld above all by Italian and Slav musicians. The Germans, although they made much ado about themselves, played an inferior, if a not altogether, secondary part.
I suppose I had a good time. Most people know the course of events, when by degrees an agreement of affections is changed into ... tenderness. So I dare say you can do without my description.