TEMPTATIONS OF DR. HOFFMANN
411
in her that could crystallize into action.
If
she was an atheist she was
certainly a mild one and refused to take part, I gathered, in religious
affairs, not because she was
in
opposition to her husband but due to
her
"inab~lity
to organize enough mental energy to take either side.
Still for all her indolence she was always precipitating the kind of·
quarrel that characterized the family after one got to know it. The
quarrels, or at least those I had observed in the past, were meaning–
less and sterile because nothing was changed by them, they had no
function beyond themselves, and no one was the victor. When I drop–
ped in one afternoon I came upon one of these disputes.
Dr. Hoffmann looked rather tired and more withdrawn into
hun–
self than I was accustomed to seeing him. Mrs. Hoffmann, as if to
explain his mood, said, "You missed it. Felix has just been talking to
a friend from Germany. They were reminiscing about Mrs.
Hoffmann~
my husband's mother, and what good times they used to have in her
house."
"Is your mother living?" I asked Dr. Hoffmann.
He was absent-mindedly tapping his finger against his wnst
watch and he didn't look up to answer me. I could see the plump line
of his jaw and could imagine him as a sturdy, industrious, and
amiable youth in Germany. "Yes," he said. "One gets so little word.
Yes, thank God she's alive."
"Felix and his friend had out all the family pictures and they
were talking about the way she sang and her amusing moods," Mrs.
Hoffmann continued. "I often grieve about her. She's a good wo–
man."
Dr. Hoffmann suddenly jerked his head back and there was such
a weary and oppressed expression on his face, one side of his mouth
twitched in a brief, nervous spasm and his fingers still tapped against
his watch, that I marveled at his ability to control his voice. "No
hypocrisy, please! You didn't think she was a good woman. As for
your grieving, I can't look inside your heart!"
I happened to notice Elsa as her father spoke. She had been sit–
ting in her chair, lazily turning the pages of the school book in her
lap. Elsa was in every way a bright and typically American girl and at
times it was hard for me to connect her with her parents or any
European past. Though she was a bit too broad-faced to be called a
beauty, she was strong and handsome and seemed to have every
equipment for a successful life. When I looked at her she was tremb–
ling with anger and I was amazed her parents didn't notice the state
she was in. She was silent until her mother, still in that flat good
