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Updated: June 29, 2025
"You haven't become a Science Communist yourself?" I bantered Benda. There was a metallic ring in the laugh he gave. "They'd like to have me!" was all he said. I was rather surprised at the emptiness of the large and well-kept park to which Benda took me. It was beautifully landscaped, but only a few scattering people were there, lost in its vast reaches.
He took him straight to his study. The walls of his hall as well as those of his room were covered with books from floor to ceiling. Benda said he was just getting ready to go on an extended journey.
From it they could step on to the next city." The other two stared at him. There was only one comment. "They seem to be sure that they could depend on us," Smith said. "They may be correct," Benda replied. "Would you stand by and see people perish if a turn of your hand could save them? You would for the moment, forget the issue between the old order and the new religion."
From that moment on, the conversation lagged, Benda suggested to his friend that it was time for them to leave. They thanked Jordan for his hospitality and departed. Jordan accompanied them down the stairs and unlocked the front door. When he returned, Eleanore was just going to her room: “Well, Eleanore, are you not going to say good-night?” he called after her.
At about that time Benda resigned his position with the New York Bell Telephone Company to accept a place as the Director of Communication in the Science Community. This, for many reasons, was a most amazing piece of news to myself and to anyone who knew Benda.
Fräulein Jasmina let a rose fall, and when Benda picked it up for her, she pressed her hand against her scarcely noticeable breast and gave voice to her gratitude, again with infinite grace. When they reached the street, Benda said in a tone of compassion: “They are three delicate creatures; they live their lonely lives like vestal virgins guarding a sacred fire.”
He spoke in the detestable idiom of the Oriental Jew. Benda was politely cold. The main point was still to come: “Vineta” had aroused Wurzelmann’s profound admiration; he had read the score on the side: “A great talent, Doctor, a talent such as we have not had for a long, long while,” said Wurzelmann. “Yes, but what am I to say about Herr Dörmaul’s opinion?” asked Benda.
“You played him a pretty scurvy trick, the old Döderlein,” replied Benda. “The night after the public rehearsal I heard him walking up and down for hours right under my bedroom.” “You feel sorry for him, do you?” “If I were you, I would go to him and beg his pardon.” “Do you really mean it?” exclaimed Daniel. Benda said nothing. Daniel continued: “To tell the truth, I should be grateful to him.
There is a good deal in the writings of the times to show that life was becoming almost unbearable for three-fourths of humanity. It is only natural, therefore, that Rohan, the prophet of the new religion, found followers more rapidly than he could organize them. About ten years before the visit of Dr. Hagstrom to his friend Benda, Rohan and his new religion had been much in the newspapers.
The maid stood in the door wringing her hands. And on a step above was Friedrich Benda, white as a sheet, and evidently suffering from great mental anxiety. Marguerite offered but little resistance. She looked behind her, and tried to see what the child was doing. Herr Carovius buried his hands in his overcoat pockets, and followed the mournful caravan out on to the street.
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