Vienna Blood Read Free Page B

In addition to Clara and her parents, several other members of the Weiss family were present: Clara's adolescent sister, Rachel, her older brother, Konrad, and his wife, Bettina. Konrad and Bettina's two infant sons—Leo and Emil—were asleep in a bedroom upstairs.
    The company had just finished the main course, which consisted of boiled beef with green vegetables, and the servants were clearing the plates.
    Clara was in full spate.
    “You will never guess who I saw yesterday—Fräulein Stahl. Outside Lobmeyr's. I haven't seen her for ages—apparently she went to Franzenbad this year, although she didn't have a single good thing to say about the place.”
    “Where did she stay?” asked Esther.
    “The Hotel Holzer. She said that the people there were very stuck-up.”
    “Yes, I'd only go to Meran now,” Jacob proclaimed. Turning to Liebermann, he spoke more softly. “We went there in the summer, of course.” Then, addressing the table at large, he added, “A much nicer atmosphere. I don't know why we've never been before. The grapes were particularly good.”
    “Fräulein Stahl said the water in Franzenbad tasted disgusting,” said Clara. “Even so, she was made to drink buckets of the stuff because her doctor—what's his name—Rozenblit—thinks she has a weak liver and he believes the waters of Franzenbad are particularly good for such complaints. Do you know him, Max? Rozenblit?”
    “No,” said Liebermann. “I'm afraid I don't.”
    “Max,” said Clara, a trace of exasperation creeping into her voice. “You never know any of the society doctors!”
    “He will,” said Jacob, smiling. “Given time—won't you, my boy?”
    Liebermann smiled patiently at his host. “Perhaps, Herr Weiss.”
    “Rozenblit advised Fräulein Stahl to consult the doctors at Franzenbad,” continued Clara, “who prescribed a special diet of cabbage and dumplings, and she had a mineral bath every day. But she said the evenings were very boring. The main street had one hotel after another and the whole place was lifeless after eight o'clock.”
    The conversation stopped as the cook arrived with a monumental emperor's pancake. Soft lumps of fragrant batter had been piled high to form a massive yellow pyramid, the slopes of which were sprinkledwith generous snowdrifts of castor sugar. A kitchen maid followed, carrying two bowls: one filled with a thick maroon plum stew and the other with a spiraling conch shell of stiff whipped cream. Jacob complimented the cook, a sentiment that was echoed around the table.
    When the conversation started again, Bettina inquired if Fräulein Stahl was still being courted by Herr Bernhardt, the famous entrepreneur, and slowly, talk flowed from incipient romances, through society engagements, to the forthcoming wedding of the couple present.
    “Have you decided where the ceremony will take place?” asked Bettina.
    “The Stadttempel,” said Clara.
    “How wonderful,” Bettina exclaimed, “I love the Stadttempel— the ceiling … with its gold stars.”
    “Very romantic—and we're having the dress made by Bertha Fürst,” said Esther.
    “Clara,” said Bettina, “you'll look stunning.”
    “And me …,” said Rachel. “I'm going to have one made too.”
    “Well,” said Jacob, “we'll see—”
    “But you promised, Father!” said Rachel, her face beginning to color.
    “I promised you a new dress. I didn't promise you a Bertha Fürst dress.”
    “Oh, Father,” said Clara, appealing to him with wide eyes. “Rachel must look her best on the day too.”
    Jacob groaned.
    “Oh, very well then—a Bertha Fürst.” He leaned toward Liebermann and said under his breath, “See what I have to put up with.”
    Rachel clapped her hands together and her face radiated joy.“Thank you, Father,” she cried. Then, getting up, she ran around the table and threw her arms around Jacob's neck, kissing his cheek.
    “Enough now,” he said, theatrically shaking her off in mock high