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Authors: M. L. Malcolm
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appreciated the fact that his concern, for once, was transparent.
If anyone had ever been bold enough to ask Professor Levy which of his two daughters was his favorite, he would have said he loved them both equally, although in his heart he knew this was not true. Bernice was his eldest. He was often startled by how closely her thoughts tracked his own, and reassured by how easily they understood each other. She lacked the flighty nature of most women, and knew that coolheaded reasoning was the key to handling any problem. Even her plain features resembled his own, too much so for her to ever be called pretty. Professor Levy knew that Bernice was his favorite, for she had been the perfect child for him to raise. She had been so easy.
Yet it was Martha to whom he felt the greater responsibility, precisely because she always seemed balanced on the edge of some harrowing danger, from climbing up on tables as a toddler, to escaping from the house to watch the Palm Sunday riots in the spring of 1919, during the short-lived reign of the Bavarian Soviet Republic. One could never be sure what the child would try next.
His wife’s love had filled him with awe, and yet always made him feel inadequate, for he had never known how to return it. When Ruth died, David knew the only way he could thank her for all the love she had given him was to take care of her Martha. For Ruth understood that Martha was born with a more restless spirit than she, or her husband, or their brilliant daughter Bernice, possessed.
He knew that to protect her he had to teach his impetuous and unruly daughter to rein in her dangerous emotions; he had to persuade her that only cool heads and clear minds would succeed in these turbulent times. To educate her in this manner was the only way he knew how to express the love he felt. He could only hope that it was enough.
Now he was chiding himself for having let her go alone to Paris. Yet she’d wanted to go so badly, and seemed so grown up, so practical, in suggesting that she take the trip as soon as her exams were finished so that she could look for a job right after Christmas. She was determined to take at least one semester off and work, to see if that helped her become more motivated to succeed at her studies. Given this admirably rational plan and the new potential for self-discipline it revealed, Professor Levy had agreed that a short trip to Paris was not such a bad idea. What had gone wrong?
He watched Martha descend from the train, then walked up to her, put one arm around her shoulder, and gave her a light squeeze. Marthalooked up at him in grateful surprise. A public hug was profound, coming from Professor Levy.
“So, you don’t feel well?” he asked her as they headed toward the station exit.
“No, Papa, I’m fine, really. Just too much rich food and not enough sleep. I tried to see too many things in too short a period of time. No self-restraint, isn’t that what you always accuse me of?” Her question could have been provoking, but it was not. Delivered with a tired smile, her words contained an element of resignation that Professor Levy found disconcerting. A change had come over Martha. He could not quite put his finger on it. She looked at him with eyes that seemed…different.
He hired a cab to take them home, an unusual luxury for the frugal professor, for one could generally walk wherever one needed to go in Munich. As they passed by the snow-covered rooftops of the town, Martha could not help but compare the massive twin towers of Munich’s cathedral to the ornate architecture of Notre Dame. The two towers of the Frauenkirche were each adorned with a clock and topped with a low, round, copper cupola. The townspeople had run out of money before finishing the steeples in 1488, so they decided to add the Gothic spires later. But by the time more funds became available, the people of Munich decided not to make any additions to the church. They liked it just the way it was. For all
If anyone had ever been bold enough to ask Professor Levy which of his two daughters was his favorite, he would have said he loved them both equally, although in his heart he knew this was not true. Bernice was his eldest. He was often startled by how closely her thoughts tracked his own, and reassured by how easily they understood each other. She lacked the flighty nature of most women, and knew that coolheaded reasoning was the key to handling any problem. Even her plain features resembled his own, too much so for her to ever be called pretty. Professor Levy knew that Bernice was his favorite, for she had been the perfect child for him to raise. She had been so easy.
Yet it was Martha to whom he felt the greater responsibility, precisely because she always seemed balanced on the edge of some harrowing danger, from climbing up on tables as a toddler, to escaping from the house to watch the Palm Sunday riots in the spring of 1919, during the short-lived reign of the Bavarian Soviet Republic. One could never be sure what the child would try next.
His wife’s love had filled him with awe, and yet always made him feel inadequate, for he had never known how to return it. When Ruth died, David knew the only way he could thank her for all the love she had given him was to take care of her Martha. For Ruth understood that Martha was born with a more restless spirit than she, or her husband, or their brilliant daughter Bernice, possessed.
He knew that to protect her he had to teach his impetuous and unruly daughter to rein in her dangerous emotions; he had to persuade her that only cool heads and clear minds would succeed in these turbulent times. To educate her in this manner was the only way he knew how to express the love he felt. He could only hope that it was enough.
Now he was chiding himself for having let her go alone to Paris. Yet she’d wanted to go so badly, and seemed so grown up, so practical, in suggesting that she take the trip as soon as her exams were finished so that she could look for a job right after Christmas. She was determined to take at least one semester off and work, to see if that helped her become more motivated to succeed at her studies. Given this admirably rational plan and the new potential for self-discipline it revealed, Professor Levy had agreed that a short trip to Paris was not such a bad idea. What had gone wrong?
He watched Martha descend from the train, then walked up to her, put one arm around her shoulder, and gave her a light squeeze. Marthalooked up at him in grateful surprise. A public hug was profound, coming from Professor Levy.
“So, you don’t feel well?” he asked her as they headed toward the station exit.
“No, Papa, I’m fine, really. Just too much rich food and not enough sleep. I tried to see too many things in too short a period of time. No self-restraint, isn’t that what you always accuse me of?” Her question could have been provoking, but it was not. Delivered with a tired smile, her words contained an element of resignation that Professor Levy found disconcerting. A change had come over Martha. He could not quite put his finger on it. She looked at him with eyes that seemed…different.
He hired a cab to take them home, an unusual luxury for the frugal professor, for one could generally walk wherever one needed to go in Munich. As they passed by the snow-covered rooftops of the town, Martha could not help but compare the massive twin towers of Munich’s cathedral to the ornate architecture of Notre Dame. The two towers of the Frauenkirche were each adorned with a clock and topped with a low, round, copper cupola. The townspeople had run out of money before finishing the steeples in 1488, so they decided to add the Gothic spires later. But by the time more funds became available, the people of Munich decided not to make any additions to the church. They liked it just the way it was. For all
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