“Goodbye, _mein lieber Herr Zorn_,” murmured the older man. There was emotion in his voice, tenderness in his tone, sorrow on his face. “Adieu,” muttered the young man; an involuntary sigh escaped his lips. Their hands remained clasped. “I hope success will meet you wherever you turn,” the older resumed affectionately. “I hope your enemies will have no occasion to rejoice——” A smile again appeared on the young man’s pale face, a cynical smile that only touched the iris of his eyes and the corners of his mouth. “Don’t worry, _lieber Hirsch_. _Sie werden noch von mir hören!_” (You will hear from me yet!) A sympathetic pressure of their hands and they both smiled. The young man jumped into the vehicle, the driver slightly rose in his seat and clacked his tongue, the horses moved. “Goodbye,” the man called from the curb. “Goodbye,” called back the young man from the moving cart and waved his hand . . . PART TWO A FIGHTER IN THE MAKING THE SALON. I. Some cities are like affected women. In their desire to appear original, without possessing any originality, they ape the mannerism of one, the gait of another, the gestures of a third, striking poses not their own. While Paris, for example, has always been her natural self, with her vices and virtues, her elegance and tawdriness, her brilliance and superficial glitter, which spring from her native appetites; while London, likewise, is always herself, as is Vienna and Munich and Venice and Florence and Rome; Berlin, of all great cities, has never been her real self. With the subtle artifices of the poseur she has always imitated her envied rivals and at the same time ridiculed those whose manners she simulated. Her lurking jealousy has always decided her model. It is a safe prophecy that within a decade Berlin will pattern her life after New York and will at the same time raise her voice in derision against the materialism of the great American Metropolis. Berlin a century ago, no different from Berlin of today, had broad avenues, beautiful public gardens, spacious boulevards, gaudy palaces, luxurious homes, busy restaurants, noisy cafés, all immaculately kept with the orderliness of an army on parade, and with a palpable newness that made one feel that the city and all her gardens, avenues, boulevards, palaces, were laid out by cord and line, chiefly after the design of an individual, without the least indication of the character or ideas of the inhabitants.