Vienna Secrets

12

ANNA KATZER AND OLGA Mandl were seated in the parlor of the Katzer residence in Neutorgasse. It was a pleasant room with landscape paintings on the walls and old-fashioned furniture. Opposite Anna and Olga sat Gabriel Kusevitsky and his older brother, Asher. Although Asher shared his brother’s diminutive physique, he was generally judged to be the better-looking of the pair. The prescription for his lenses was not so strong, and his beard had been finely groomed to conceal his receding chin. In Asher, Gabriel’s weak, neurasthenic appearance was transformed into something more appealing: artistic sensitivity, the romantic glamour of the consumptive-and the small dueling scar on his right cheek advertised that he was not without courage. He also affected a more bohemian style of dress, which was only fitting for a playwright.

The women had been speaking about the congress they had attended in Frankfurt the previous October, the German National Conference on the Struggle Against the White Slave Trade. In philanthropic circles there were many-mostly matrons with thickening waistlines and jowly, powdered faces-who were deeply suspicious of Anna’s and Olga’s involvement with good causes. Their fashionable dress and frequent appearance at gala balls made them seem more like dilettantes than fund-raisers. Yet there could be no denying that their coquettish charm had successfully loosened the purse strings of several famous industrialists.

“It is a shameful business,” said Anna, pouring the tea. “Jewish girls are sold by our own people, a fact that many find hard to accept. They cry ‘False accusation, slander!’”

“And one can see why,” said Asher. “The town hall would almost certainly use these reports against us-yet another example of Jewish immorality! Even so, I agree it is far better that the problem should be addressed than denied. There will be trouble when it all comes out, but it’ll be just one more unpleasant thing to deal with!”

“Why now?” asked Gabriel. “Jewish brothels have always been relatively rare.”

“The pogroms,” said Olga. An uneasy silence prevailed, as if the room had been preternaturally chilled by a horde of Russian ghosts. “And they are still arriving, these girls. Ignorant of any language other than their own jargon and bad Polish.” By “jargon” she meant Yiddish. “Needless to say, they can’t get good jobs, and they find themselves working as waitresses, peddlers, or shop assistants. Such positions allow them to develop irregular habits, and without family connections they soon become prey to profiteers and procurers.”

“How very sad,” said Gabriel.

“Indeed,” said Olga.

“But we intend to do something about it,” said Anna. “Which is why we wanted to talk with you.”

The two men looked at each other, then back at the women, before saying in perfect unison, “Us?” The comical effect made the women smile.

“I am a recently qualified physician,” said Gabriel, “and my brother is a struggling playwright…”

Anna waved her hand, dismissing the interruption.

“Our aim is to establish a new refuge,” she continued, “for young Jewish women. Naturally, it will be situated in Leopoldstadt, and will provide a safe haven for those who would otherwise be at risk. We will also offer assistance to abandoned mothers and their babies, pregnant girls, and those suffering from moral illnesses.”

Olga offered the men a dish of vanilla biscuits, shaped like stars and sprinkled with large granules of decorative sugar. Gabriel took one while Asher declined.

“We envisage a middle-size community,” said Olga, returning the plate to its resting place on a circular doily. “Two houses-adjoining-with ten to fifteen beds in each dormitory. Both buildings will be furnished simply; however, the atmosphere will be warm and friendly, like a family home, not like a hostel or hospital. There will be no forced detention. Every resident will be free to leave at any time, if that is her wish. And most important, there will be no punishment. These women have suffered enough already.”

Gabriel Kusevitsky bit into his biscuit, which crumbled in his mouth, releasing a flood of buttery flavors. He nodded with approval at both the sentiment expressed and the quality of the baking.

“We intend to provide clothing,” said Anna. “Which again should be simple, but not ugly or disfiguring. All women-in whatever circumstance they find themselves-like to look their best.” She smiled coyly at Gabriel before continuing. “And there will be a schoolroom, where those residents who do not speak good German will be coached by volunteers from the Women’s Association.”

Olga interjected, “We would prefer our refuge to be staffed entirely by women. It is our view that men-however well-intentioned-and young girls from the street are not a good combination. Further, the majority of our staff should be married, because they will then know about sexual relations and be neither excessively strict nor permissive.”

This bold, direct, and unflinching mention of “sexual relations” signaled that Olga and Anna considered themselves “new women.” They had both, no doubt, read Mantegazza’s popular book The Physiology of Love.

Gabriel stopped chewing his biscuit and waited.

“Hallgarten has already promised five thousand kronen,” Olga added, maintaining a steady gaze.

“It is a splendid idea,” said Asher, clapping his hands together. “And very modern. I like that.”

“Yes,” said Gabriel. “Much good could be accomplished. Five thousand, you say?”

“Indeed,” said Olga. “A very generous donation, but-as I’m sure you will appreciate-such an ambitious project will require funding from other sources.”

Anna offered Gabriel another biscuit.

“Should you happen to meet in the course of your work any potential benefactors,” Olga continued, “who might consider our scheme worthy of their patronage, I trust that you will remember us.”

Olga straightened her back, which had the effect of pushing her bosom forward.

“Of course,” said Asher. “If the opportunity arises, you can be assured of our cooperation.”

“Thank you,” said Olga. “You are most kind.”

Now that the main purpose of inviting the Kusevitsky brothers had been accomplished, Anna and Olga were free to steer the conversation toward lighter topics-mutual acquaintances, some royal gossip, and an operetta that they had both found amusing. Having mentioned the stage, the women were then obliged to ask Asher Kusevitsky about his new play. He took their interest seriously-perhaps too seriously-and spoke for some time about his principal themes of mental illness, creativity, and mysticism. The action of the play concerned a man’s decline after possession by a dybbuk (an evil spirit and a staple character of old Jewish folktales).

In due course, Anna and Olga politely turned their attention to Gabriel, who in response to their inquiries explained that he was conducting research into the meaning of dreams. Anna began to recount one of her own dreams, but Gabriel stopped her, saying that he would be unable to interpret it without asking her questions of a personal nature and that she would probably be embarrassed to answer them in the company of guests.

“Then some other time, perhaps,” said Anna.

When tea was finished and the Kusevitskys had been shown to the door by one of the servants, Anna and Olga retired to the drawing room, where they sat on a couch, heads together, conferring.

“Are you sure they’ll be useful?” asked Anna.

“I hope so,” said Olga. “They know Professor Priel, who is Rothenstein’s brother-in-law. That’s how Gabriel Kusevitsky got his scholarship; the professor put in a good word.”

“If Rothenstein took an interest in our project…”

“We would be able to do everything-and very soon too.”

“Where do the Kusevitsky brothers come from?”

Olga paused and looked off into space. A single straight line transected her forehead.

“I don’t know. I was introduced to Gabriel by my cousin Martin. They studied medicine together.”

“Do they have family in Vienna?”

“I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

Anna caught sight of herself in a silver decorative plate standing on the sideboard. She patted her hair and positioned her necklace more centrally.

“He’s interesting, isn’t he?”

“Asher, yes, although he did go on a bit about his play. Didn’t you think?”

“No, I meant the other one. Gabriel.”

“I didn’t really understand what he was saying: symbols, dreams…”

“And very intelligent.”

“Did you”-Olga rested her hand on her friend’s arm-“like him?”

The question contained a hint of alarm.

Anna shrugged. “I did find him interesting. Why? What is it?”

“I don’t think they’re the right type.”

“Right type?”

“They’re intellectuals, too preoccupied with their work.” Olga assumed a piqued expression. “Did you notice when I sat up straight?” She repeated the movement, lifting the fulsome weight of her breasts. “They didn’t even look!”

Anna laughed and squeezed her friend’s arm. She had noticed, and she too had been surprised by the Kusevitsky brothers’ indifference.