Joseph Roth - Perlefter - The Story of A Bourgeois

Exactly! Frau Kempen came after a few days. As a precaution she had a list with her, but with her glassy and blind eyes she could not decipher a single name and refused to wear glasses. Herr Perlefter took the list from her hand and read, ‘Albert Koch, officer of Goldlust and Co., thirty-five years old; John Mitterwald, born in America, very rich; Alex Warjuschin, from Moscow, fled from the Bolsheviks.’

Perlefter interrupted the list and said reproachfully, ‘Nothing but strangers! Nobody knows who their parents are! If I’m going to give my child to someone I must know who, what and how he is!’

‘First we should hear more!’ urged Frau Perlefter, for she was afraid that Frau Kempen would be offended.

But Frau Kempen once again knew nothing of the parents.

‘Come with very precise information,’ said Herr Perlefter. ‘You need to treat this like a business. If someone offers me something …’ At this point Perlefter broke off. He was embarrassed to admit that he looked at his sons-in-law from a business perspective.

However, Karoline had proceeded with a significant change. She dressed herself carefully, she wore flowers on her chest and flowers stood ever in her room in various drinking glasses that had disappeared from their normal place in the household. I watched as Line blossomed and was young again, and once I ran into her on the outskirts of the city where there was a decent railway station but also pretty meadows. She sat on a bench with a young man. She rose and asked me not to mention this.

‘Naturally!’ I said.

Then something surprising happened. Karoline gave me a kiss. Oh! If only she had given me this kiss when she still wore a braid and swayed her hips.

The young man was a poor chemist. He had one arm in a sling and had shoddy boots and a battered hat. He was certain he wanted to be an inventor. So Karoline went her own way. I later learned that they had a small apartment, Karoline and the young man. One day I was invited over to celebrate the birthday of the young man (his name was Rudolf). We sat, the three of us, and drank and ate moderate but festive things. A purple silk tie lay on the table wrapped in thin paper. Karoline had purchased it. Karoline and Rudolf kissed constantly. Rudolf had injuries on all his fingers — he was quite diligent in his experiments. He wanted to marry as soon as he succeeded with his invention.

But, after three months passed and still no success, Karoline took the household by surprise one peaceful evening, while everyone was shelling nuts and said, ‘I’m engaged to be married!’

A great confusion arose. Herr Perlefter pulled himself together first and said, ‘One shouldn’t make bad jokes about serious matters.’ Then Karoline started to cry, and it was the first time in her life that she wept like that, such that everyone could see and hear her.

Perlefter let a long time of pleading pass before he consented. For a few days there was a mournful air in the Perlefter house, as if someone had suddenly been snatched away from them.

Perlefter took the occasion of this mood to eat at the club. After a few days he said to Karoline, ‘Bring the young man!’ It was as if he had ordered her to bring him a nutcracker.

Ultimately, a poor chemist was better than nothing. Now Fredy’s engagement could also be officially announced. The young chemist was very depressed when in the family circles. He bowed to everyone and sat stiffly at the table like a schoolboy at his desk.

Nobody knew who his parents were either. Perlefter said to all his friends, ‘A quiet young man! He will certainly be a great inventor. One can also earn a lot with inventions.’

Thus Fredy’s engagement was celebrated, and the young chemist got a couple of new suits. The wounds on his fingers finally healed and did not reappear. Had he decided not to invent any more?

One party chased the other.

After some weeks it was Henriette’s turn. I accompanied her once again and this time had a heavy suitcase to carry. Henriette sobbed the whole way. I attended her wedding. I gave her a gramophone and was held in high esteem.

‘He’s like my own son!’ said Henriette.

I danced with her, and then we went outside to cool off. Henriette said, ‘When the old man dies, you’ll be my heir!’

The old man, however, will live until Judgement Day. He is hardy, taciturn, and his face looks like it was hewn from the brown earth. He is never angry, never friendly, always alert; his tiny little eyes are forever wide open as if they have no lids and never require sleep.

Henriette is a brave wife, and she waits in vain for his death.

Herr Perlefter had much to sigh about in those days. The demands of his wife and his engaged children escalated. Herr Perlefter revelled in complaining. It sickened him a bit that the family no longer had time to deal with him. From the delightful centre, in which he had lived year after year, highly visible, respected and pitied, he had slipped more and more to the periphery. His son, his daughter and his son-in-law lived like distinguished guests in his house, and there were days when lunch was served without waiting for Perlefter, even though he was only five minutes late. When he arrived the family said they had assumed he would be at the club that day.

The family took up irritating habits. The old order was no longer maintained. Once Henriette had left the house the maids changed quickly, and Perlefter could tolerate no new faces or new names. He called all the girls Henriette — whether their names were Anna, Klementine or Susanne. Usually their name was Anna.

One prepared for the ‘quiet weddings’. Invitation lists were assembled. The household trembled with joyful agitation. ‘We’re getting old!’ said Perlefter.

He feared age. He thought about his father who had lived to the age of ninety-two and become a revered burden to his children, even an obstacle. Perlefter did not wish to live that long. He would have completely given in to this miserable mood had his son’s party not compensated for all the trouble through which he had to suffer for the celebration. It was a magnificent party that Fredy threw, so much so that one could even forget about the poor chemist whom the inept Karoline — and it had taken long enough — had selected.

It was a magnificent party. Alexander Perlefter could not have wished for a better one. Fredy had married into one of the richest families: his father-in-law was the leather-goods manufacturer Kofritz, the same Kofritz from whom all the pocket mirrors, fashion accessories, sport jackets, dog muzzles, horse saddles and travel-manicure sets originated; the same Kofritz who produced the best leather armchairs in the world, wonderful seats and recliners that were customized to the size of their users, whether wide or thin, short, average height or tall. It was the very same Kofritz whose initials could be seen on the most distinguished luggage of the most distinguished travellers, whose crest was a lion pelt with the printed motto ‘Respect the Trademark’. Herr Leopold Kofritz was a self-made man, just like Herr Perlefter. But in the most important things these two wealthy men were different from each other. Above all, it was how they spent their money. If one could say that earning money is a talent, so one could say with even more certainty that spending money requires a certain character. In this regard, I should note that knowing both fathers well Perlefter had only talent, while Kofritz also had character.

Leopold Kofritz was known as a ‘generous businessman’. He did not seek to elicit compassion from those around him as Perlefter did but, rather, envy and admiration. He didn’t wish to be loved but feared. He didn’t want to win over his fellow men he wanted to amaze them. He was more brutal and less fearful in nature but by no means decisive. His hesitation always wore the mask of determination. When he still didn’t know what he wanted after a long time it seemed to others that he knew for certain. One said of him that from the first moment of his career he knew that he would produce the best leather goods in central Europe. He liked to tell of his beginnings, and he assured all those who believed him anyway that even as an errand boy in the steel industry he already had a great interest in suitcases. If one heard him speak this way one had to believe that the true merchants and manufacturers, those with very particular talents for their specific industries, were blessed by God Himself, just as was the case for sculptors, painters and musicians. One had no doubt that the young Friedrich Kofritz had an inner voice calling him to the great showcases of the leather industry. Fate had chosen him to produce leather goods under a trademark that was, in truth, not original but ingenious.