"Desire and convenience do not regulate such affairs," said Mr. Lesser, ironically.
"Why not? What's to prevent our getting together comfortably without these endless disputes and excited debates?"
"The fact that the stranger has been in our midst, and we are restless, excited, nervous, like those who live in unrest, without a fixed abiding-place."
All turned toward the speaker; both the women who had followed the conversation in silence, after vain attempts to calm the disputants, and the men, whose tempers were heated by the discussion.
The words seemed to echo from another world,—lamenting, exhorting, warning.
It was Dr. Rosenfeld who had spoken them. The young man sat there deathly pale, as though frightened by his uncalled-for interference in the family quarrel. The whole evening and even during the last conversation he and Hugo had remained quiet, although their faces plainly expressed their interest.
"My dear Henry, you, too, carry matters too far," said Mr. Friedheim, impatiently. "But as our humor is spoilt, and it is late, I think it is best to break up. The fresh December air will cool us off, and we will go home, only to begin over again, at the next opportunity."
"We expect you on Wednesday for Skat," said Mrs. Freudenthal.
"Aha, the session for the next discussion is arranged," Mr. Friedheim laughed.
"Good-by, then, until Wednesday."