Leo rewarded her keenness by pressing her to his breast. “And I’ll do my share to make their longing irresistible.” “But be very careful, Leo! Don’t forget that if they kill you I’ll have to die, too!” CHAPTER XIII. A MELANCHOLY CHRISTMAS Never had Vienna experienced a more melancholy Christmas. The enormous cost of living was supplemented by an absolute standstill of all activity. High prices alone would not have bothered the worthy Phæaceans. They had been accustomed to them for a decade; as a matter of fact it did not make much difference whether a half-pint of wine cost five or ten thousand kronen, if people earned enough, if the laborer received high wages, and the merchant had his safe full of money every evening. But this was the case no longer. The bulk of the currency lay dormant in the stockings of the peasants; in the cities no one wanted to buy; a large part of the working class was idle and dependent on government support; and the Christmas numbers of the papers published statistics which revealed that in two years about five thousand branch banks, cafés, restaurants, and shops had closed down in Vienna alone. Lately one big failure after the other had been occurring in industry. Corporations that to the last minute had been thought bomb-proof were now declaring themselves insolvent, and rumor predicted the collapse of two great banks. Matters having reached such a state, what did it avail the Viennese that there was plenty of room everywhere, that the theatres were not sold out even on the Christmas holidays, and that one no longer had to meet those provoking Jewish noses? What did it avail them that they had returned to Christian simplicity and the full beard, when the barbers’ assistants had to be discharged by the dozen because there was no more work for them?