“Even quotations advanced,” said the banker. “It astonished me, and I can account for it only by assuming that the triumph of the common-school system is of general significance and an imperative desideratum of the times.”
“How can you have any doubt about it?” cried his sister. “Our town has pioneered the way: the rest of Germany will soon adopt the same system.”
Seraphin greeted his father.
“Well, my son, you very likely have heard nothing whatever of this hubbub about schools?”
“Indeed, I have, father. Carl and I were in the midst of the commotion at the desecrated church of S. Peter. We saw and heard what it would have been difficult to imagine.” He then proceeded to give his father a minute account of the meeting. His powerful memory enabled him to repeat Shund's speech almost verbatim. The father listened attentively, and occasionally directed a glance of observation at the young lady. When Shund's coarse ridicule of Christian morals and dogmas was rehearsed, Mr. Conrad lowered his eyes, and a frown flitted over his brow. For the rest, his countenance was, as usual, cold and stern.
“This Mr. Shund made quite a strong speech,” said he, in a nonchalant way.
“He rather intensified the colors of truth, 'tis true,” remarked Louise. “The masses, however, like high coloring and vigorous language.”
A servant brought the banker a note.
“Good! Shund is elected to the assembly! The span of bays belongs to me,” exulted Carl Greifmann.
“Your bays Seraphin?” inquired the father. “How is this?”