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one list—and one circle in which you could mark your cross to indicate "yes." There was no place

for you to vote "no," and blank ballots were declared invalid.

For that sort of "election" the Fatherland was kept in a turmoil for four weeks, and more

money was spent than had ever been spent by all the forty-five parties in any previous

Reichstag election. The shows and spectacles, the marching and singing, the carrying of the

"blood banners," the ceremonies in honor of the Nazi martyrs; the posters and proclamations,

the torchlight processions, the standing at attention and saluting, the radio orations with the

people assembled in the public squares to listen to loud-speakers— and a few sent to

concentration camps for failing to listen. Hitherto the business of standing silent had been

reserved as an honor for the war dead; but now all over Germany the traffic came to a halt and

people stood in silence with bared heads; all the factories ceased work and thirty million

workers stood to listen to the voice of Adolf Hitler, speaking in the dynamo hall of the enormous

Siemens-Schuckert Electrical Works in Berlin. Afterward they stayed and worked an hour

overtime, so that they and not their employers might have the honor and glory of making a

sacrifice for the Fatherland!

X

On a bright and pleasant Sunday in mid-November, great masses of the German Volk lined up

in front of polling-places all over the land, and even in foreign lands, and in ships upon the

high seas. They voted in prisons and even in concentration camps. Late in the day the

Stormtroopers rounded up the lazy and careless ones; and so more than forty-three million

ballots were cast, and more than ninety-five per cent voted for the Hitler Reichstag and for the

solemn referendum in favor of their own peace and freedom. Irma read about it, the next day

and the days thereafter, and was tremendously impressed. She said: "You see, Lanny, the

Germans really believe in Hitler. He is what they want." When she read that the internees of

Dachau had voted twenty to one for the man who had shut them up there, she said: "That

seems to show that things can't be so very bad."

The husband replied: "It seems to me to show that they are a lot worse."

But he knew there was no use trying to explain that. It would only mean an argument. He

was learning to keep his unhappiness locked up in his soul. His wife was having a very good time

in Berlin, meeting brilliant and distinguished personalities; and Lanny was going about

tormenting himself over the activities and the probable fates of a little group of secret

conspirators in a Berlin slum!

He could guess pretty well what they were doing; he imagined a small hand-press in the back

of the tailor shop, and they were printing leaflets, perhaps about the Brown Book and its

revelations concerning the Reichstag fire, perhaps quoting opinions of the outside world, so as

to keep up the courage of the comrades in a time of dreadful anguish. Probably Trudi was

carrying some of this "literature" to others who would see to its distribution. All of them were

working in hourly peril of their lives; and Lanny thought: "I ought to be helping them; I am the

one who could really accomplish something, because I could get money, and bring them

information from outside, and carry messages to their comrades in France and England."

But then he would think: "If I did that, I'd ruin the happiness of my mother and my wife and

most of my friends. In the end I'd probably wreck my marriage."

24

Die Juden Sind Schuld

I

A PLEASANT thing to leave the flat windy plain of Prussia at the beginning of winter and

motor into the forests and snug valleys of South Germany. Pleasant to arrive in a beautiful and

comparatively modern city and to find a warm welcome awaiting you in an establishment called

the "Four Seasons of the Year" so as to let you know that it was always ready. Munich was a "Four

Seasons of the Year" city; its life was a series of festivals, and the drinking of beer out of

Maßkrugen was a civic duty.

The devoted Zoltan had come in advance and made all arrangements for the show. The Herr

Privatdozent Doktor der Philosophie Aloysius Winckler zu Sturmschatten had applied his arts,

and the intellectuals of Munich were informed as to the merits of the new school of

representational painting; also the social brilliance of the young couple who were conferring this

bounty upon them.

In the morning came the reporters by appointment. They had been provided with extracts

from what the Berlin press hadsaid about Detaze, and with information as to the Barnes fortune

and the importance of Budd Gunmakers; also the fact that Lanny had been on a shooting trip

with General Göring and had once had tea with the Führer. The young couple exhibited that

affability which is expected from the land of cowboys and movies. Lanny said yes, he knew

Munich very well; he had purchased several old masters here— he named them, and told in what

new world collections they had found havens. He had happened to be in the city on a certain

historic day ten years ago and had witnessed scenes which would make the name of Munich

forever famous. Flashlight bulbs went off while he talked, reminding him of those scenes on the

Marienplatz when the Nazi martyrs had been shot down.

The interviews appeared in due course, and when the exhibition opened on the following

afternoon the crowds came. An old story now, but the people were new, and those who love

greatness and glory never tire of meeting Herzog und Herzogin Überall und Prinz und

Prinzessin Undsoweiter. A great thing for art when ladies of the highest social position take

their stand in a public gallery to pay tribute to genius, even though dead. While Parsifal Dingle

went off to ask the spirit of the dead painter if he was pleased with the show, and while Lanny

went to inspect older masters and dicker over prices, Beauty Budd and her incomparable

daughter-in-law were introduced to importantpersonages, accepted invitations to lunches and

dinners, and collected anecdotes which they would retail to their spouses and later to their

relatives and friends.

There was only one thing wrong between this pair; the fact that Marcel Detaze had died when

Irma was a child and had never had an opportunity to paint a picture of her. Thus Beauty got

more than her proper share of glory, and there was no way to redistribute it. The mother-in-law

would be humble, and try not to talk about herself and her portraits while Irma was standing

by; but others would insist upon doing so, and it was a dangerous situation. Beauty said to her

son: "Who is the best portrait painter living?"

"Why?" he asked, surprised.

"Because, you ought to have him do Irma right away. It would be a sensation, and help to

keep her interested in art."

"Too bad that Sargent is gone!" chuckled Lanny.

"Don't make a joke of it," insisted the mother. "It's quite inexcusable that the crowds should

come and look at pictures of a faded old woman who doesn't matter, instead of one in the

prime of her beauty."

"Art is long and complexions are fleeting," said the incorrigible one.

II

A far greater event than the Detaze exhibition came to Munich, causing the city to break out

with flags. The Reichskanzler, the Führer of the N.S.D.A.P., had been motoring and flying all

over his land making campaign speeches. After his overwhelming triumph he had sought his