birds fluttering in the air, rabbits and other delightful things scampering on the ground. Hand
in hand came young people in flowing garments. "Oh, youths and maidens, oh, youths and
maidens, come laugh, and sing, and dance with me!" It was the Isadora rout that Lanny would
always carry in his memory. When the storm of the orchestra drowned out Hansi's fiddle, the
listener was leaping to a mountain-top and from it to the next.
Others must have been having the same sort of adventure, for when the last note sounded
they started to their feet and tried to tell the artist about it. Lanny saw that his brother-in-law
had won a triumph. Such a sweet, gentle fellow he was, flushed from his exertions, but even
thinner than usual, showing the strain under which he was living. People seemed to realize
that here was one who was not going to be spoiled by adulation. He wasn't going to enjoy
himself and his own glory, he would never become blase and bored; he would go on loving his
art and serving it. Nobody in that hall failed to know that he was a Jew, and that this was a
time of anguish for his people. Such anti-Semitism as there was in Paris was not among the
art-lovers, and to shout "Bravo!" at this young virtuoso was to declare yourself for the cause
of freedom and human decency.
Lanny thought about the great composer, friend of mankind and champion of the oppressed.
His concerto had been played badly in his own lifetime, and what a revelation it would
have been to him to hear it rendered by a soloist and a conductor, neither having a score. But
then Lanny thought: "What would Beethoven think if he could see what is happening in the
land of his birth?" So the dreams of art fled, and painful reality took their place. Lanny
thought: "The German soul has been captured by Hitler! What can he give it but his own
madness and distraction? What can he make of it but an image of his distorted self?"
X
Hansi always wanted to be taken straight home after a performance; he was exhausted, and
didn't care for sitting around in cafes. He entered the palace and was about to go to his room,
when the telephone rang; Berlin calling, and Hansi said: "That will be Papa, wanting to know
how the concert went."
He was right, and told his father that everything had gone well. Johannes didn't ask for
particulars; instead he had tidings to impart. "The Reichstag building is burning."
"The Nazis are saying that the Communists set fire to it."
"But, Papa, that is crazy!"
"I must not talk about it. You will find the news in the papers, and do your own guessing. The
building has been burning for a couple of hours, and they say that men were seen running
through it with torches."
"It is a plot!" exclaimed Hansi.
"I cannot say; but I am glad that you are not here. You must stay where you are for the
present. It is a terrible thing."
So Hansi did not go to bed for a long while. They sat and talked, and Lanny, who had
friends on
great building was gutted, and the government was charging that it had been deliberately fired
by emissaries of the Red International.
All four of the young people were familiar with that elaborate specimen of the Bismarck style
of architecture, and could picture the scenes, both there and elsewhere in the city. "It is a
frame-up," said Bess. "Communists are not terrorists." Lanny agreed with her, and Irma,
whatever she thought, kept it to herself. It was inevitable that every Communist would call it a
plot, and every Nazi would be equally certain of the opposite.
"Really, it is too obvious!" argued Hansi. "The elections less than six days away, and those
scoundrels desperate for some means of discrediting us!"
"The workers will not be fooled!" insisted Bess. "Our party is monolithic."
Lanny thought: "The old phonograph record!" But he said: "It's a terrible thing, as Papa
says. They will be raiding Communist headquarters all over Germany tonight. Be glad that you
have a good alibi."
But neither of the musicians smiled at this idea. In their souls they were taking the blows
which they knew must be falling upon their party comrades.
XI
What happened in the Reichstag building on that night of February 27 would be a subject of
controversy inside and outside of Germany for years to come; but there could be no doubt
about what happened elsewhere. Even while the four young people were talking in Paris, the
leader of the Berlin S.A., Count Helldorf, was giving orders for the arrest of prominent
Communists and Socialists.
The list of victims had been prepared in advance, and warrants, each with a photograph of
the victim in question. The Count knew that the Marxists were the criminals, he said; and
Goring announced that the demented Dutchman who was found in the building with matches
and fire-lighters had a Communist party membership card on him. The statement turned out
to be untrue, but it served for the moment.
