They returned to their rooms with eleven minutes to spare before bed check. In the hansom ride back, Friedrich Wilhelm Plumpe could not put into words what the evening had meant to him. It had been similar to how he’d imagined storms in the tropics progressed: from exhaustion and terror to exhilaration and exaltation. The whole way back they barely spoke. Occasionally Hans smiled to himself, and when they arrived, he refused to let Wilhelm pay the fare.

A week later Wilhelm was again pitched into a hansom, and this time taken to the Ehrenbaum-Degele home in the Grunewald for Sunday dinner.

The house was five stories high. The bottom floor was faced with antique fitted stone, the next two stories with granite, and the top two with Tudor paneling. In the center of the second story, the family initials were worked in iron and followed by an exclamation point. On one side, a dormer with two small attic windows and a large, arched window below created the effect of a house gaping at its approaching visitors. On the other, a stand of hundred-year-old pines extended into the forest. As they walked down the drive, Wilhelm felt unreasonable joy at the wealth of others.

They entered through a garden drowsy with sunlight. Wicker armchairs were arranged at intervals. A gardener dozed in a caved-in chair.

The house’s sunroom was decorated with bowls of primroses and asters. The window frames were bright green. His host handed him a magazine, then went off to round up his father and mother. In the four corners were sprays of a dark red flower he could not identify. The Fallen Warrior from the Glyptothek confronted a Praxiteles Hermes on the mantel. Some contemporary paintings were lined up in box frames over the buffet table. Underneath, a dog, an Alsatian, lay asleep. Each paw constricted alternately, as if it were playing the piano.

The Ehrenbaum-Degeles made their entrance. Hans’s father was the portrait of the prosperous Jewish banker. He had the expression of someone who, having discovered some minor embezzling, had decided to overlook it. When introduced, he transformed that into a warm smile and a searching look. He shook his guest’s hand once, firmly, and introduced himself as Herr Ehrenbaum.

The mother introduced herself as Mary Degele, and insisted on “Mary.” She was two inches taller than her husband, with her son’s large-boned features and the sort of hair one saw in Biedermeier prints. From her first glance at Hans it was clear that her devotion was for her an unshakeable source of satisfaction.

Both parents were pleased to hear that their guest had admired Mary onstage, as Lucia. She engaged Wilhelm immediately with questions about school, and they all arranged themselves on some Swedish chairs. He answered the questions as best he could. He found he could not move his eyes from her.