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Updated: June 30, 2025
Frau Brohl often had tears in her eyes when looking at the familiar furniture in her room, which had been designed for a house three times as large, and she would rather have sacrificed one of her hands than one of her old sofas or tables.
He ran to the window and threw open the shutter; the growing dawn illumined the chamber with its grayish light. Thank God! there was no one there. The vision had been so real that it was some time before Samuel Brohl could fully regain his senses, and persuade himself that his nightmare was forever dissipated, that phantoms were phantoms, that cemeteries do not surrender their prey.
The first thing that M. Langis did was to set the bottle on the table, after which he went close up to Samuel Brohl, who, fainting and inanimate, bore almost the appearance of death. He examined him an instant, bent over him, then, folding his arms and shrugging his shoulders, he said to him, "Monsieur, Mlle. Moriaz is no longer here." Samuel Brohl did not stir.
How, then, had Mme. de Lorcy come to take it into her head that there was something of the appraiser about Samuel Brohl, and that his eyes took an inventory of her furniture? If he had forgotten himself at Maisons, he never forgot himself at Cormeilles. What cared he for the sordid affairs of the sublunary sphere?
Paul, who sat opposite, insisted against all the rules of etiquette on having Schrotter beside him as his left-hand neighbor. On his right, Frau Brohl, in rustling silk, sat in rapt silence. The ever-modest Frau Marker was content to take a lower place. The pastor said grace before the dinner began, which seemed to surprise the Landrath, but the Chamberlain was much edified.
He hastened to add, however, that every thing could be saved if the mother would once more set him on his feet; in every new undertaking one had to pay something for learning; he had hardly understood his position so far, but now he knew what he was about, he must be contented with modest profits. Frau Brohl made a fresh sacrifice, giving Marker his position in business again after six months.
Forthwith Samuel Brohl re-entered his box, whose cover closed over him, and it was a true Pole who said to Mlle. Moriaz, in a grave, melancholy, and respectful tone: "Pardon me, I am not always master of my impressions." "That is right," said she; "and you will remain, won't you?" "Impossible," he replied; "I should be cross, and you would not be pleased."
This was unquestionably Jeremiah Brohl, and this night it seemed truly that the whole world had arisen from the dead. The little old man continued to laugh jeeringly; then in a sharp, peevish voice, he cried: "Schandbube! vermaledeiter Schlingel! ich will dich zu Brei schlagen!" which signifies: "Scoundrel! accursed blackguard! I will beat you to a jelly!"
"It does not require much of it to distinguish an honest man from an adventurer." "Ah! permit me," returned M. Langis, "that depends a good deal on practice. The most skillful are deceived." Samuel Brohl rose and made a movement to leave. Mme. de Lorcy insisted on his sitting down again.
Sometimes he spoke in German with lapses into Yiddish, and any one would then have said that he was Samuel Brohl, a notorious Jewish adventurer. Then, recovering himself, he talked in Polish, and he might have been mistaken for a Polish gentleman.
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