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It was easy to see that this, her eldest son, was the apple of Frau Furst's eye; her other children seemed to be there only to meet his needs; his lightest wish was law. Each additional pupil that sought him out, was a fresh tribute to his genius, each one that left him, no matter after how long, was unthankful and a traitor.
His genial bonhomie disappeared, as if by magic, when he entered his home circle, and he was particularly gruff with this adoring woman. "GLEICH, FRANZCHEN, GLEICH," she answered soothingly, and whisked about her work again, with the air of one caught napping. Maurice followed Furst's invitation to join the rest of the party.
If wishes could have injured or killed, Furst's career would then and there have come to an end: his ingratitude, his treachery, and his lack of moral fibre, were denounced on every hand. One day, at this time, Maurice entered Schwarz's room. The class was assembled; but, although the hour was well advanced, no one had begun to play.
He did not sit down, but, returning to the public room, leaned over the counter and talked to the BUFFETDAME, in a tone which had nothing in common with Furst's hearty familiarity. Next came a couple of Americans, loud, self-assertive, careless of dress and convention; close behind them still another group, and at its heels, Dove.
This dream was present to him all the morning, like a melody that haunts and recalls. But he worked more laboriously than usual; for he was aggrieved with himself for having idled away the previous afternoon, and then, too, Furst's playing had made a profound impression on him.
Schilsky, persuaded by those next him to let the incident pass unnoticed, contented himself with a: "VERFLUCHTE SCHWEINEREI!" spat, after Furst's gurgled account of Maurice's previous insobriety, across the floor behind him, to express his contempt, and proceeded as dominatingly as before with the narration of his love-affairs.
Here were collected a red plush suite, which was the pride of Frau Furst's heart, and all the round, yellowing family photographs; here, too, stood the well-used Bechstein, pile upon pile of music, a couple of music-stands, a bust of Schubert, a faded, framed diploma.
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