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I have already hinted at the disastrous trend taking place in Lucie: she now spends almost all her time gadding about in night spots, and, especially on days when she has been forced to take part in the ceremony at home, she throws all restraint to the winds. She wears cords, gaudy sweaters, runs around in sandals, and has cut off her glorious hair in favor of a plain square-cut style which, I now learn, has been in vogue more than once as “bangs.” Although I have not yet been able to observe any overt immorality on her part, merely a certain exaltation that she herself calls “existentialism,” I cannot see my way toward regarding this trend as desirable. I prefer women who are gentle, who move decorously to the rhythm of a waltz, who quote pleasant poetry, and whose diet does not consist exclusively of pickles and goulash over-spiced with paprika. Karl’s emigration plans seem to be crystallizing: he has discovered a country, not far from the equator, that promises to live up to his conditions, and Lucie is thrilled: in that country people wear clothes not unlike her own, love pungent spices, and dance to rhythms without which she maintains she is no longer able to live. Although it is somewhat shocking that this couple do not seem to cherish the idea of “Home, sweet home,” I can understand their desire to get away from it all.

The situation with Johannes is even worse. Unfortunately the nasty rumor has turned out to be true: he has become a Communist. He has broken off all connection with his family, ignores all his obligations, and attends the evening ritual only by proxy: that of his double. His eyes have acquired a fanatical expression; he acts like a dervish at the public functions of his party, neglects his practice, and writes furious articles in appropriate journals. Strangely enough, he now quite often sees Franz, who tries vainly to convert him and whom he tries just as vainly to convert. Despite all spiritual alienation, they have grown somewhat closer on a personal level.

As for Franz, I have not seen him for a long time, only heard of him. He is said to have fallen into a deep depression, spending hours in dim churches, and I believe one is justified in describing his piety as exaggerated. He began to neglect his profession after his family became engulfed in its troubles; and just the other day I saw on the wall of a demolished building a faded poster announcing “Last fight of ex-champion Lenz vs. Lecoq. Lenz retiring from the ring.” The poster was dated March, and we are now well into August. Franz is said to be in very poor shape. I believe he finds himself in a situation never before experienced in our family: he is poor. Fortunately he has remained single, so the social consequences of his irresponsible piety affect only himself. With amazing persistence he has been trying to arrange for Lucie’s children to be placed under protective guardianship, believing as he does that they are threatened by the evening ritual. But his efforts have been in vain: we can be thankful that the children of well-to-do couples are not exposed to the interference of social institutions.

The one who has removed himself the least from the rest of the family is, in spite of some repulsive traits, Uncle Franz, although it is true that, in spite of his advanced age, he has a mistress, and his commercial practices are of a nature of which, while we may admire them, we can by no means approve. Recently he unearthed an out-of-work stage manager who supervises the evening ritual and sees to it that everything goes like clockwork. And it really does.