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and brought to the ancient Jewish idealism a practicality which Johannes recognized as

Yankee, a sternness derived from her ancestral Puritanism. Bess was the reddest of

them all, and the most uncompromising. Her expression would be full of pity and

tenderness, but it was all for those whom she chose to regard as the victims of social

injustice. For those others who held them down and garnered the fruits of their toil she

had a dedicated antagonism; when she talked about capitalism and its crimes her face

became set, and you knew her for the daughter of one of Cromwell's Ironsides.

Lanny understood that in the depths of his soul Johannes quailed before this daughter-in-law.

He tried to placate her with soft words, he tried to bribe her with exactly the right motor-car,

a piano of the most exquisite tone, yachting-trips to the most romantic places of the seven seas,

and not a single person on board who would oppose her ideas; only the members of her own

two families and their attendants. "Look!" the poor man of nullions seemed to be saying. "Here

is Rahel with a baby who has to be nursed, and here is the lovely baby of your adored brother;

here is this ship of dreams which exists for the happiness of all of you. It will go wherever you

wish, and the service will be perfect; you can even break the rules of discipline at sea, you and

Hansi can go into the forecastle and play music for the crew, or invite them up into the saloon

once a week and play for them—in spite of the horror of an old martinet trained in the

merchant marine of Germany. Anything, anything on earth, provided you will be gracious, and

forgive me for being a millionaire, and not despise me because I have wrung my fortune out of

the toil and sweat of the wage-slaves!"

This program of appeasement had worked for four years, for the reason that Bess had laid hold

of the job of becoming a pianist. She had concentrated her Puritan fanaticism upon acquiring

muscular power and co-ordination, in combining force with delicacy, so that the sounds she

produced would not ruin the fine nuances, the exquisite variations of tone, which her more

highly trained husband was achieving. But Johannes knew in his soul that this task wasn't

going to hold her forever; some day she and Hansi both would consider themselves musicians—

and they meant to be Red musicians, to play for Red audiences and earn money for the Red

cause. They would make for themselves the same sort of reputation that Isadora Duncan had

made by waving red scarves at her audiences and dancing the Marseillaise. They would plunge

into the hell of the class struggle, which everyone could see growing hotter day by day all over

Europe.

X

Besides Mama, the only person to whom Johannes Robin unbosomed himself of these anxieties

was Lanny Budd, who had always been so wise beyond his years, a confidant at the age of

fourteen, a counselor and guide at the age of nineteen. Lanny had brought Johannes together

with his father, and listened to their schemes, and knew many of the ins and outs of their

tradings. He knew that Johannes had been selling Budd machine guns to Nazi agents, to be used

in the open warfare these people carried on with the Communists in the streets of Berlin.

Johannes had asked Lanny never to mention this to the boys, and Lanny had obliged him.

What would they do if they found it out? They might refuse to live any longer in the Berlin

palace, or to travel in the hundred-dollar-an-hour yacht. Bess might even refuse to let it carry

her name. Thus Jascha Rabinowich, standing in front of his private wailing wall. Oi, oi!

He was in the position only too familiar to the members of his race through two thousand

years of the Diaspora: surrounded by enemies, and having to play them one against another, to

placate them by subtle arts. Johannes had risen to power by his shrewdness as a speculator,

knowing whom to pay for inside information and how to separate the true from the false.

Having made huge sums out of the collapse of the mark, he had bought up concerns which

were on the verge of bankruptcy. To hold them and keep them going meant, in these days of

governmental interference with business, some sort of alliance with politicians; it meant paying

them money which was close to blackmail and became ever closer as time passed. It meant not

merely knowing the men who were in power, but guessing who might be in power next week,

and making some sort of deal with them.

So it came about that Johannes was helping to maintain the coalition government of the

Republic and at the same time supporting several of the ambitious Nazis; for, under the strain

of impending national bankruptcy, who could tell what might happen? Knowing that his

children were in touch with the Reds, and continually being importuned for money—who

wasn't, that had money?—Johannes would give them generous sums, knowing that they would

pass these on to be used for their "cause." Yet another form of insurance! But do not let any of

these groups know that you are giving to the others, for they are in a deadly three-cornered

war, each against the other two.

All this meant anxious days and sleepless nights. And Mama, from whom nothing could be

hidden, would argue: "What is it for? Why do we need so much money?" It was hard for her

to understand that you must get more in order to protect what you had. She and the

children would join in efforts to get Papa away from it all. For the past three summers they had

lured him into a yachting-trip. This year they had started earlier, on account of the two young

mothers, and they were hoping to keep him away all summer.

But it appeared that troubles were piling up in Berlin: business troubles, political troubles.

Johannes was receiving batches of mail at the different ports, and he would shut himself up with

his secretary and dictate long telegrams. That was one of his complaints concerning the Soviet

Union: letters might be opened, and telegrams were uncertain; you paid for them but couldn't

be sure they would arrive. Everything was in the hands of bureaucrats, and you were wound up

in miles of red tape—God pity the poor people who had to get a living in such a world. Johannes,

man of swift decisions, plowman of his own field, builder of his own road, couldn't stand Odessa,

and asked them to give up seeing the beautiful Sochi. "There are just as grand palaces near

Istanbul, and the long-distance telephone works!"

XI

The Bessie Budd returned in her own wake, and in Istanbul its owner received more

telegrams which worried him. The yacht had to wait until he sent answers and received more

answers, and in the end he announced that he couldn't possibly go on. There was serious

trouble involving one of the banks he controlled. Decisions had to be made which couldn't be left

to subordinates. He had made a mistake to come away in such unsettled times!—the Wall

Street crash had shaken all Europe, and little by little the cracks were revealing themselves.

Johannes had to beg his guests to excuse him. He took a plane for Vienna, and from there to

Berlin.

It had come to be that way now; there were planes every day between all the great capitals of

Europe. You stepped in, hardly knew that you were flying, and in a few hours stepped out and

went about your affairs. Not the slightest danger; but it tormented Mama to think of Jascha up

there amid thunder and lightning, and so many things to bump into when you came down.