Warrior Gentlemen

The Vices

In his second spring abroad, a young translator met his publisher at a cosy gathering. Seeing him for the first time, Herr Lehmann was astonished at his Chinese translator's youth.

"How old are you, dear?"

Three dinner guests — Adam, David, and Lehmann arrived at the Weiss residence at same time. After exchanging pleasantries on the stairs, and with the host, the trio went into a bathroom to wash their hands. Below an arched mirror was a polished steel tap with running water. By custom, one had to wash with a cup, pouring over the right hand then the left. Since the Weiss household had running water, the ritual was modified like this: guests were to wash their hands first with soap, after in the customary manner. A tin mug was placed beside the sink for this purpose. Rinsing his soapy hands under the tap, Adam griped:

"Please don't call him 'dear', that's for girls. He's a young man and seventeen."

David blushed, unsure if Herr Lehmann had mistaken his sex as so many had before. The German, leaning against the bathroom door, eyed him curiously. He'd heard the Jap call this Asian youth 'Davie' on the stairs. But outsiders were forbidden from addressing the little brother so casually. Aha....a glimmer of recognition shone in his opaque, deep brown eyes which could draw all the light in the room into them and penetrate even the hardest of heathen souls.

Respecting order, the eldest washed first, next Adam, and last, his little friend. When all had washed their hands with soap and the tin mug, Lehmann recited a prayer in a foreign language. It was not German, nor was it the one spoken by Weiss and his Matka. Hearing it for the first time, Davie thought it beautiful, mysterious, and ancient. Almost Arabic. Visions of camels and swirling desert storms crossed his mind as the elder murmured his prayer. The camels stopped, the desert calmed. One by one, three men dried their hands on a white towel hung from the bathroom door.

It was a Sabbath day. Weiss, being a generous man, had invited his friends for dinner. Due to the faith of those present, steak and cheese were not laid on the table. If there was steak, there was no cheese. If there was fish, no steak. The Fujiwaras visited on a fish day. Mrs Weiss and her daughter, Else, had prepared sweet fish cakes garnished with carrots and parsley. Sour bread bowls filled with vegetable stew were served on the side. The vegetable stew, a yellow wholesomeness, was made with barley, carrots, potatoes, and mushrooms. A plate of sauteed herring completed the homely spread. The host sat at the head of the table. In his ironed shirt and charcoal waistcoat, he was the picture of elegance. On his left were family: Mr and Mrs Weiss, and Else in her white frock. On his right were the guests: Lehmann in a checkered blue vest and both Fujiwaras donning grey waistcoats.

Once everyone was seated at table, Weiss said a blessing for the bread and wine:

Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu melech ha'olam hamotzi lechem min ha'aretz

Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, boreh p'ri hagafen

When this ritual had been completed, he turned his attention to the newcomer who he'd yet to introduce to his family.

"This is Kyung, friend of my friend, and a translator working for Lehmann."

Else, a bright-eyed girl of eighteen, raised her thin black brows. She'd long been acquainted with Pan Adam but never thought she'd see him with an Asian girlfriend. And such a pretty one too! Like fashionable girls, Kyung associated freely with men and dressed in menswear. Defying stereotype, her posture was refined, her face intelligent. You could tell with a glance that she was not the type to talk shop and fold cards with fast young men in the public houses. An elegant freewoman like this made girls envious. Sensing her curiosity, big brother eased her envy: