Konrad and Alexandra (PDF) - Rolf Gross

new provocation in modern music and painting. Tell me, Walter is so depressed, what has happened?"Sally did not answer. For a while she continued to pound the veal cutlets. After she had finally shaken them energeticallyin a bag with flour, she faced Alexandra. "Please, don’t take his words about the Russian progroms personally. You areright, he is depressed. The boycott is only part of the reason. The art market is changing rapidly. To make ends meet, Ihelp him sell modern art, but his heart is not in modern painting. The business in Renaissance paintings is shrinking andso is the supply."She put the flour-dusted scaloppini into the pan and lit a ladle of cognac over them. For a second her features were lit bythe flickering light. Alexandra noticed how much she had aged. A tear was running down her cheek. "Ach, Alexandra,most discouraging, he lost his best Renaissance customer, a woman in Boston, to an arrogant, young snob whom thatwoman put through Harvard and now uses as her exclusive scout and agent. There are indications that this Mr.Berenson is also working for a dealer in London, stealing Walter’s customers in exchange for high commissions fromLondon. Walter is too honest to expose the often dubious expertise of this young spud. I had hoped that you would helpme cheer up Walter, and then he plows right into you at the first opportunity. Do remember that Walter is very fond ofyou."While mixing the salad Alexandra considered how she could help. She was so full of her own discoveries in music, thatshe would have liked to talk with Walter about them. She now realized that in his downhearted mood Walter would not befree to listen to her excitement. She had to find a subject closer to his heart. Maybe later, with Sally’s help, she could tryto discuss the paintings she had seen at Becky’s house and her conversations with Marti and Kandinsky. She definitelywanted to test her new understanding in the Uffizi.The preparation of the crostini was finished. Alexandra smiled at Sally. "Let me briefly talk to my old friend until you callfor dinner. Maybe I can help you."She found Walter absorbed in a book in the library. He looked up as she entered and caressed her graceful figure withgentle eyes as she pulled a chair next to him."Walter, I have never told you how much you influenced my life in the past years. Your challenge to ‘know yourself andbe accountable for your actions’ has been with me every day since that evening when you gave me Petrarca’s letter toread. I want to thank you for this gift."Walter averted his eyes. "Do you forgive me my thoughtless remarks earlier? I should have tried to keep my worrieshidden from you. You know how very fond I am of you."She searched his sad, old eyes and nodded.He looked past her and sought support in his memories. "When I was your age, every day brought new surprises, lifewas glorious, exciting, and dangerous. Now fickle Fortuna has reduced me to holding still. I parry her strokes of as best Ican. Do tell me of the great discoveries you have made during the past years."Sally banged the gong and called. "A table touts mes enfants!"Alexandra offered Walter her hand and playfully pulled him out of his chair. He gladly suffered her help.Next morning they all had different wishes, Katharina wanted to take Friedrich to the top of the Duomo. Alexandra hadmade up her mind to brave the Uffizi. Only Konrad had no specific plan. He finally joined Alexandra, who, he knew, wouldhave liked to be left alone.As a compromise, he suggested that they explore the museum separately and meet after two hours to exchange theirdiscoveries. Konrad was a meticulous viewer of pictures. He examined every detail of a painting as carefully as hisplants. Alexandra could take one look at an entire room of paintings and dismiss it as unimportant to her at the time,although she knew from experience that one day she would find something entirely new among exactly those pictures.She had invented a method that fitted her perfectly. Almost frivolously she would ask, why did this place lure me here?What is the reason for my coming? Where is the fascinating painting to be discovered, ready to explode in my mind? Shenever failed in this game.Last time Walter had taken her to the Uffizi eager to demonstrate how the Renaissance transformed man’s vision in thefifteenth and sixteenth centuries. She still saw the Duccio Madonna, the vanishing lines of Massacio, the clear,transparent van der Goes, and Botticelli’s enigmatic Primavera in her mind.Somehow she felt she had passed beyond the question of seeing in three dimensions, of understanding the awareness,which Walter had insisted the Renaissance demanded of the New Man. What was beyond this world? Where wasmodern painting heading and most importantly, what was the next goal in her life? She restlessly searched for anexpansion of her understanding that would include her experiences of the past five years.Almost in a trance, all her senses alert, she walked through the galleries and deeply puzzled discovered that theByzantine paintings—where years ago Walter had taken her much against her will—exerted an irresistible attraction.Perplexed, she sat down on the only bench in the room. The well remembered panels of the Primitivi surrounded her.Figures in blue, dark green, or purple robes floated on shimmering gold surfaces. A sunspot brightly illuminated aMadonna, and the reflected light caught a flock of angels on the opposite wall. There was no question, these earlyvisions were beautiful, their colors were as fresh as on the day they had been painted.But what was their message? She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. The gleam of the gold panels would not go113