Perhaps the old man's thoughts had taken a very gloomy turn, for he
leaned his head on his hand, and seemed sunk in revery. The Fräulein
rose quietly, and, beckoning me to follow her, moved noiselessly into an
adjoining room. This chamber, furnished a little more tastefully, had a
piano, and some books and prints lay about on the tables.
“My father likes to be left alone at times,” said she, gravely; “and
when you know us better, you will learn to see what these times are.”
She took up some needlework she had been engaged on, and sat down on a
sofa. I did not well know whether to take my leave or keep her company;
and while I hesitated she appeared to read my difficulty, and said, “You
are free, Herr von Owen, if you have any engagement.”
“I have none,” said I; then remembering that the speech might mean to
dismiss me, I added hastily, “but it is time to go.”
“Good-bye, then,” said she, making me a slight bow; and I went.
CHAPTER XXI. THE OFFICE
On the following day the cashier sent for me to say it was Herr
Oppovich's wish that I should be attached to some department in the
office, till I had fully mastered its details, and then be transferred
to another, and so on, till I had gradually acquainted myself with the
whole business of the house. “It's an old caprice of Herr Ignaz's,” said
he, “which repeated failures have not yet discouraged him with. You 're
the fifth he has tried to make a supervisor of, and you'll follow the
rest.”
“Is it so very difficult to learn?” asked I, modestly.
“Perhaps to one of your acquirements it might not,” said he, with quiet
irony, “but, for a slight example: here, in this office, we correspond
with five countries in their own languages; yonder, in that room, they
talk modern Greek and Albanian and Servian; there's the Hungarian group,
next that bow window, and that takes in the Lower Danube; and in what we
call the Expeditions department there are; fellows who speak seventeen
dialects, and can write ten or twelve. So much for languages. Then what
do you say to mastering--since that's the word they have for it--the
grain trade from Russia, rags from Transylvania, staves from Hungary,
fruit from the Levant, cotton from Egypt, minerals from Lower Austria,
and woollen fabrics from Bohemia? We do something in all of these,
besides a fair share in oak bark and hemp.”
“Stop, for mercy's sake!” I cried out “It would take a lifetime to gain
a mere current knowledge of these.”
“Then, there's the finance department,” said he; “watching the rise and
fall of the exchanges, buying and selling gold. Herr Ulrich, in that
office with the blue door, could tell you it's not to be picked up of
an afternoon. Perhaps you might as well begin with him; his is not a bad
school to take the fine edge off you.”
“I shall do whatever you advise me.”
“I'll speak to Herr Ulrich, then,” said he; and he left me, to return
almost immediately, and conduct me within the precincts of the blue
door.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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