The occupants of the mezzanine floor, Karl with his wife and Artur, were present at the dinner. Artur, then a young man of twenty-three, was the special favorite of his sisters. Not only that, he was the favorite of every one. I never knew any one, not one, who was not delighted with Artur Gundaccar von Suttner. As rare as white blackbirds are those creatures who radiate a _charme_ so irresistible that all, young and old, high and low, are captivated by it; Artur Gundaccar was such a person. I purposely do not translate the word _charme_ by “enchantment” because the French word gives a hint at the derivative _charmeur_, an expression which would be very inaptly rendered by “enchanter.” What such a _charme_ consists in, is hard to say; it is not so much a complex of characteristics as it is a characteristic in itself. It operates by an inexplicable and irresistible magnetic and electric force. One thinks it needful to explain why some persons are so attractive and pleasing and inspire such confidence and affection in others, and ascribes this to their cheerful disposition, their friendly spirit, their good looks, or their talents; but that is all a mistake: others have the like characteristics, perhaps even to a higher degree, but the same effect is not produced, for they are no _charmeurs_. They are not sunshine-people. Artur Gundaccar was. When he entered a room it immediately grew twice as bright and warm as it was before. This does not mean that I fell in love with him at first sight; I only shared the delight which the four sisters felt when the favorite brother joined in their jests and diversions, when he sat in our midst chatting, when he chanced to take part in our entertainments and excursions. He could not do this any too often, for he had to drudge in preparation for a civil-service examination; this, to be sure, he did as little as possible, for he learned very easily but not with avidity. Zeal for the study of law was not one of his strong points. “A lazy dog” his former tutor, now his private secretary, complainingly called him; his father dubbed him “a frivolous good-for-nothing”; “He is a real affliction,” sighed his mother; and at the same time they all worshiped him. He was handsome and elegant beyond all comparison. He had an incredible gift for music; without having studied, he played everything by ear and composed ravishing melodies. And the basis of his character—is this perhaps the secret of the sunshine effect?—the basis was kindness.