Traveler of the Century by Andrés Neuman Page A

still some tea left and it would be a shame to waste it. Elsa, dear, would you …
    In the round mirror, Hans saw Sophie talking to Herr Levin, and he turned his attention to them. Monsieur Levin, Sophie said, you look rather pensive, tell us, what opinion do you have of our favourite monster? Ahem, said Herr Levin, none in particular, that is, well. Let us admit that among other things, ahem, worthy of mention, he introduced a certain civic equality, did he not? We quite understand, interrupted Professor Mietter with a scowl, I wonder what the Torah has to say about civic equality? My dear Professor, Sophie urged, that is not a joking matter. Then Álvaro said: Since we are on the subject, what does our charming hostess think of the matter? Hear, hear, agreed Professor Mietter, we are all dying to know. My dear, you are surrounded! declared Frau Pietzine. Herr Gottlieb’s whiskers bristled with anticipation. Frau Levin stopped sipping her tea. Hans glanced back at the mirror, eyes open wide. What I think, Messieurs, Sophie began, and I am aware that compared to you all I am an ignoramus when it comes to politics, is that the failures of a revolution needn’t make us regress historically. Perhaps I go too far in my conjectures, but you have all read Lucinde have you not ? And do you not consider this slim volume a legitimate product of revolutionary aspirations? My dear Mademoiselle, said Professor Mietter, that book is not about politics at all! Lieber Professor, Sophie smiled, shrugging her shoulders delightfully in order to soften their disagreement,
indulge me for a moment, and let us pretend that it is, that Lucinde is a deeply political novel, because it speaks not of matters of state but of people’s lives, the new intimacy of people’s lives. Can there be any greater revolution than that of social behaviour? Professor Mietter sighed: What bores the Schlegel brothers are. And how stupid their railings against Protestant rationalism. The younger brother has proved to be as insignificant as his aphorisms. And as for his elder brother, the poor man can think of nothing more interesting than to translate Shakespeare. But Hans, overwhelmed, had turned away from the mirror. So, you are an admirer of Schlegel, Mademoiselle? he asked in a hushed voice. Not of Schlegel himself, replied Sophie, well, that depends. I adore his novel, the world he evokes. You have no idea, Hans whispered, how profoundly we agree. Sophie lowered her gaze and began shifting the teacups around. Moreover, Sophie went on, seeing that her father and Professor Mietter had begun a separate conversation, I think Schlegel has become like Schiller—he is terrified of the present. In fact, if those two had their way I would be too busy trying on dresses even to discuss their work. My dear friends, Herr Gottlieb suddenly announced, standing up, I hope you enjoy the remainder of the evening. Then he walked over to the clock on the wall, which said ten o’clock sharp. He wound it up as he did every evening at the same time. He gave a nod and retired to bed.
    A while later, realising he should not be the last to leave, Hans rose from his chair. Bertold went to fetch his hat and coat. Hans bowed to the other guests, his eyes remaining fixed on Professor Mietter. Sophie, who seemed more spirited since her father’s departure, went over to say goodbye. Mademoiselle Gottlieb, said Hans, please do not think I am being polite when I say that, thanks to you, I have enjoyed a delightful evening. It was very kind of you to ask me to your salon, and I hope
my outspokenness will not result in me being exiled. On the contrary, my dear Monsieur Hans, Sophie replied, it is I who must thank you. Today’s discussion was one of the most lively and interesting we have had, and I suspect this is partly due to your presence. Your sympathy overwhelms me, Hans said, overstepping the mark with his flirtatiousness. Have no fear, Sophie retorted,