The Goose Man · Jakob Wassermann
Chapter 8
Chapter 163 of 219 · 2 min read
Dorothea had succeeded in making it clear to her father that it would be highly advantageous to her, as the nearest relative, to show Herr Carovius every conceivable favour. Andreas Döderlein baulked at first; but he could not refuse recognition to the far-seeing penetration of his daughter.
When she told him of her appearance in the baronial residence, and mentioned the enormous sum Herr Carovius had collected with the mien of an undaunted victor, Döderlein became serious; he stared into space and did some hard thinking. Recalling the now superannuated feud, he preserved the appearance of inapproachability, and said: “We will not debase ourselves for the sake of Mammon.”
A few days later, however, he said, quite of his own free will, sighing like a man who has gone through some great moral struggle and come out of it victorious, “Well, do as you think best, my child, but don’t let me know anything about it.”
His argument, had he expressed it in so many words, would have been something like the following: We are poor; we are living from hand to mouth. The negligible dowry Herr Carovius gave his sister has been used up. Marguerite would have been perfectly justified in putting in her claim for thirty thousand marks, but Herr Carovius settled with her for only twelve thousand, and there was no possibility of redress. For Herr Carovius had wheedled his sister into giving him a written statement that she was satisfied with the sum of twelve thousand: the remaining eighteen thousand was the price he demanded in return for her consent to have his sister, who was slavishly submissive to him, marry the man of her choice.
“I have been duped,” said Andreas Döderlein, and bore up under his grudge with becoming dignity.
The director of the conservatory died, and Andreas Döderlein, who, by virtue of his achievements and his personality, had the first right to the vacant position, was appointed to it. His former colleagues were stout in their contention that the appointment cost him many a bitter visit to the powers that be. Döderlein read envy in their eyes and smiled to himself.
But it was a hard life. “Art cannot live without bread,” said Döderlein, with a heroic glance into the future. “But oh, what works I could bring out if I only had time! Give me time, time, and,” swinging his hands cloudward, “the eagles above would greet me!”
