Chapter 8

One evening in February, Theresa and Philippina chanced to be sitting by the lamp mending the week’s wash. Jason Philip entered the room; there was a sheepish expression on his face; he rubbed his hands.

Since Theresa did not consider it worth her trouble to ask him why he was in such a good humour, he suddenly laughed out loud and said: “Now we can pack up, my dear. I see it in writing: The wonder of the age, or the humiliated relatives. A touching tableau presented by Herr Daniel Nothafft of the Schimmelweis family.”

“I do not understand you; you are talking like a harlequin again,” said Theresa.

“Compositions by Daniel are going to be played in a public concert,” Philippina informed her mother with that old, harsh voice of hers.

“How do you know?” asked Theresa, in a tone of evident distrust.

“I read it in the paper.”

“The miracle is to take place in the Harmony Society,” said Jason Philip, by way of confirming Philippina’s remark, with an expression of enigmatic malevolence. “There is to be a public rehearsal on Thursday, and there is nothing on earth that can keep me away. The music dealer, Zierfuss, has given me two tickets, and if you want to, why, you can come along and see how they make a local hero out of a plain loafer.”

“I?” responded Theresa, in a tone of contemptuous amazement, “not one step will I take. What have I got to do with your imbecile concerts?”

“But these gentlemen are going to be disillusioned, terribly so,” continued Jason Philip in a threatening tone. “There is still a certain amount of common sense left, just as there are means of proceeding against a common, ordinary swindler.”

Philippina raised her head in the mood of a person who has come to a sudden decision: “C’n I go ’long, Pop?” she asked, her ears as red as fire.

It was more than a request. Jason Philip was startled at the intractable expression on the girl’s face. “Sure,” he said, avoiding as well as he could the mute opposition on the part of Theresa, “but take a whistle along so that you can make cat calls.”

He sank back with a comfortable sigh on his chair, and stretched out his legs. Philippina knelt down and took off his boots. He then put on his slippers. Each of them bore a motto embroidered in red. On the left one were the words “For tired father”; on the right one, “Consolation.”