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Zoltan Kertezsi was there, and they wanted to see the spring Salon through his expert eyes; also

there were plays to be seen, of interest to professionals such as they were about to become. As it

happened, France was in the midst of a furious election campaign, and when you had an uncle

running for the Chamber of Deputies, you were interested to see the show. Hansi and Bess had

consented to come and give a concert for the benefit of his campaign, so it would be a sort of

family reunion.

The Hungarian art expert was his usual serene and kindly self. He had just come back from a

trip to the Middle West, where, strange as it might seem, there were still millionaires who

enjoyed incomes and wanted to buy what they called "art paintings." Lanny had provided

Zoltan with photographs of the Detazes which were still in the storeroom, and three had been

sold, at prices which would help toward the production of The Dress-Suit Bribe. Irma insisted

upon putting up a share of the money, not because she knew anything about plays, but because

she loved Lanny and wanted him to have his heart's desires.

She took the same tolerant attitude toward political meetings. If Lanny wanted to go, she would

accompany him, and try to understand the French language shouted in wildly excited tones.

Jesse Blackless was running as candidate in one of those industrial suburbs which surrounded

Paris with a wide Red band. Under the French law you didn't have to be a resident of your

district but had to be a property-owner, so the Red candidate had purchased the cheapest

vacant lot he could find. He had been carefully cultivating the constituency, speaking to

groups of workers every night for months on end, attending committee meetings, even calling

upon the voters in their homes—all for the satisfaction of ousting a Socialist incumbent who had

departed from the "Moscow line." Irma didn't understand these technicalities, but she couldn't

help being thrilled to find this newly acquired uncle the center of attention on a platform,

delivering a fervid oration which drove the crowd to frenzies of delight. Also she couldn't fail to

be moved by the sight of Hansi Robin playing for the workers of a foreign land and being

received as a comrade and brother. If only they hadn't been such terrible-looking people!

III

All this put Lanny in a peculiar position. He attended his uncle's réunion, but didn't want

him to win and told him so. Afterward they repaired with a group of their friends to a cafe

where they had supper and argued and wrangled until the small hours of the morning. A noisy

place, crowded and full of tobacco smoke; Irma had been taken to such haunts in Berlin,

London, and New York, so she knew that this was how the intelligentsia lived. It was supposed

to be "bohemian," and certainly it was different; she could never complain that her marriage

had failed to provide her with adventures.

By the side of the millionairess sat a blond young Russian, speaking to her in English, which

made things easier; he had just come out of the Soviet Union, that place about which she had

heard so many terrible stories. He told her about the Five-Year Plan, which was nearing

completion. Already every part of its program had been overfulfilled; the great collective farms

were sowing this spring more grain than ever before in Russian history; it meant a complete

new era in the annals of mankind. The young stranger was quietly confident, and Irma

shivered, confronting the doom of the world in which she had been brought up. From the

attitude of the others she gathered that he was an important person, an agent of the Comintern,

perhaps sent to see that the campaign followed the correct party line; perhaps he was the

bearer of some of that "Moscow gold" about which one heard so much talk!

Across the table sat Hansi and Bess; and presently they were telling the Comintern man

details about the situation in Germany. Elections to the diets of the various states had just

been held, and the parties of the two extremes had made tremendous gains; the middle classes

were being wiped out, and with them the middle-class point of view. Hansi said that the battle

for the streets of the German cities, which had been waged for the last two or three years, was

going against the Communists; their foes had the money and the arms. Hansi had witnessed a

battle in broad daylight in Berlin. A squad of Stormtroopers had been marching with their

Hakenkreuz banners and a fife and drum, and passing a co-operative store they had hurled

stones through the windows; the men inside had rushed out and there had been a general

clubbing and stabbing. The Jewish violinist hadn't stayed to see the outcome. "I don't suppose

I ought to use my hands to beat people," he said, spreading them out apologetically.

"Poor Hansi!" thought Irma. He and Freddi were unhappy, having discovered how their

father was dealing with all sides in this German civil war. The Nazis were using Budd machine

guns in killing the workers, and how could that have come about without the firm of "R & R"

knowing about it? The boys hadn't quarreled with their father—they couldn't bear to—but their

peace of mind was gone and they were wondering how they could go on living in that home.

Also Irma thought: "Poor Lanny!" She saw her husband buffeted between the warring

factions. The Reds were polite to him in this crowd because he was Jesse's nephew, and also

because he was paying for the supper, a duty he invariably assumed. He seemed to feel that he

had to justify himself for being alive: a person who didn't enjoy fighting, and couldn't make up

his mind even to hate wholeheartedly.

Yet he couldn't keep out of arguments. When the Communist candidate for the Chamber of

Deputies put on his phonograph record and remarked that the Social-Democrats were a

greater barrier to progress than the Fascists, Lanny replied: "If you keep on asking for it,

Uncle Jesse, you may have the Fascists to deal with."

Said the phonograph: "Whether they mean to or not, they will help to smash the capitalist

system."

"Go and tell that to Mussolini!" jeered Lanny. "You've had ten years to deal with him, and

how far have you got?"

"He knows that he's near the end of his rope."

"But we're talking about capitalism! Have you studied the dividend reports of Fiat and

Ansaldo?"

So they sparred, back and forth; and Irma thought: "Oh, dear, how I dislike the

intelligentsia!"

But she couldn't help being impressed when the elections came off, and Zhess Block-less, as

the voters called him, showed up at the top of the poll in his district. On the following Sunday

came a runoff election, in which the two highest candidates, who happened to be the Red and

the Pink, fought it out between them. Uncle Jesse came to Irma secretly to beg for funds, and

she gave him two thousand francs, which cost her seventy-nine dollars. As it happened, the

Socialist candidate was a friend of Jean Longuet, and went to Lanny and got twice as much; but

even so, Zhess Block-less came out several hundred votes ahead, and Lanny had the distinction

of having an uncle who was a member of the Chamber of Deputies of the French Republic.

Many a young man had made his fortune from such a connection, but all Lanny could expect

was a few more additions— that is to say, accounts for food and wine consumed by parties in

restaurants.

IV

The Pomeroy-Nielsons had gone to London, where Rick was engaging a stage director and a