Staring down at his whiskers, which appeared to be giving off smoke, Herr Gottlieb murmured: Bertold, tobacco.
Hans became absorbed for a while watching Sophie’s restless hands and waiting for her lips to purse slightly when she made a comment. Hearing Herr Levin mention Kant, he turned his attention back to the conversation and waited his turn to speak. On the subject of religion, Hans said with a shrug, I simply follow Kant’s example. I doubt I shall ever understand the mysteries of the divine, and in the meantime there are many more unresolved matters here on earth. (Once again, Herr Hans, said Professor Mietter disapprovingly, you reduce human knowledge to the empirical, you are incapable of abstract thought, you haven’t gone beyond Hume.) On the contrary, Professor, on the contrary, I would say I expand it, empirical thought seems to me infinite! And I believe when little old reason ceases to bow to a superior power, it comes up against the biggest unknown of all — how to understand the world without any help from the divine, is this what you mean by limiting knowledge? (And I say to you, replied Professor Mietter, that if we dispense with the divine, our reason is left empty-handed.) That depends, I didn’t say I was opposed to any form of divinity. For me divinity is our two feet on the ground, don’t you see? (An interesting thought, ventured Herr Levin, but what of the higher emotions? Do we not explore the world through them? To what realm does a heartfelt prayer or a Bach cantata belong? Do Bach’s cantatas have their feet on the ground, or …)
If you’ll allow me, said Sophie, joining in the debate, I don’t see why higher emotions cannot also spring from reason, why they need to be separated. For example? asked Herr Levin. For example in chess, Hans agreed, his eyes fixed on Sophie’s moist lips, isn’t it possible to be moved by the inexorability of a checkmate? I mean, don’t you consider that thinking to the limits of our possibility ennobles our spirit? I don’t know, Sophie said very slowly staring at Hans’s chin, if I’m able to play chess.
Sophie opened her lips to cool them. Hans’s mind was no longer on Kant, although it was occupied with empirical knowledge.
The other members of the salon resumed their conversation about national religiosity. Professor Mietter railed against the Council of Trent. Herr Gottlieb spoke of an understanding between the different creeds. Herr Levin referred to the influence of Semitic studies and astronomy. Frau Pietzine extolled the Eucharist. Sophie tried to moderate the discussion, giving everyone a chance to speak, and doing her best to weave together the different themes. Álvaro and Hans whispered to each other, heads together. Gentlemen, gentlemen, Sophie said in a tone of light-hearted reprimand, pray do not leave us out of your reflections, they give every indication of being fascinating. As a matter of fact, Álvaro smiled, we weren’t engaged in any great discussion, you are already familiar with our religious limitations.
Álvaro looked around him and saw that everyone was staring at him in silence. Very well, he said clearing his throat, a moment ago I was saying to Hans that countries that failed to undergo their own Reformation, such as Spain, Italy and Portugal, were obliged, as it were, to come up with a home-grown alternative — anticlericalism. What else were we to do, take Communion every Sunday, absolve our sins, and support the Inquisition? However, out of self-respect, we Spanish anticlericalists ended up rejecting every kind of religious manifestation. What worries me is that one day we may no longer be able to enjoy St John, St Teresa or St Augustine. And I think you Germans had an easier time of it, you had Luther, Bach and Lessing who acted as partial counterweights. For over half a century all we have had is Father Feijóo, may he rest in peace. You Germans invented the Reformation, and we Spaniards the Counter-Reformation, you split into two and we drove the other half out, just think what a difference (ahem, quite, said Herr Levin, but remember there weren’t two halves but three thirds, in the old Spain there were at least three religions, not forgetting the Toledo School, all those Christians, Jews and Muslims translating, ahem, as I mentioned before, works of astronomy and theology, naturally, not to mention Juan Hispalense, who), yes, yes, but that was centuries ago and since then there has been nothing, absolutely nothing. For centuries Spanish Catholicism has refused to cohabit with any other creeds or denominations, making it almost impossible to think seriously about God. You Germans on the other hand are capable of looking Christianity straight in the face and giving it a piece of your mind; you can dialogue with it without worshipping it or detesting it completely, you can even try to understand its reasons, and I admire you for that! (Bravo! said Professor Mietter sardonically, you speak like a Protestant!) I, on the other hand, cannot — I see a crucifix and my blood begins to boil. And then I am no longer capable of listening or of understanding a word, despite having been educated by monks. But perhaps German secularism is more logical. (Ah, said Herr Levin, incidentally, speaking of Lessing, let me tell you that besides being admirably logical he was an infamous anti-Semite. Being persecuted for his ideas did not prevent him turning his back on a persecuted people. Deep down, that is typically Jewish. Let go of my arm, will you dear.)
Frau Levin murmured a few words into her husband’s ear, Professor Mietter remarked on the difference between secularism and being non-religious, Frau Pietzine asked him what the difference was, and everyone went back to talking at once. Sophie did her best to order the debate, and, as she smiled and calmed this or that guest, she tried to eavesdrop on Álvaro and Hans who were once more whispering to each other, heads together. The whispers she was unable to hear at that moment went as follows: (… Yes, Álvaro, I’m not saying it isn’t, just that the Reformation also created a misunderstanding, do you see? There are numerous churches here all springing from the same damned branch. People here may have accustomed, or resigned, themselves to a certain coexistence, but it is because of these religious differences that many think they look to other religions for a solution, and … Have you noticed the way Frau Pietzine is fondling her necklace? She looks as if she’s playing with herself … Shh! You idiot, they can hear us! … But do you see what I mean, Hans? Yes, I see, what I’m saying is that here a discontented Catholic might be tempted by Protestantism, or vice versa, and consequently, yes, now you mention it, she is fondling her necklace as if … Anyway, that means both churches lose out, yet religion always triumphs. For the Spaniards on the other hand, albeit by dint of atrocities, things are much clearer, look at you … Ah, Hans, how much happier foreigners always seem, don’t they? You can say that again! That necklace is making me nervous …)
Álvaro and Hans laughed. As the laughter made their heads pull apart, Sophie was able to pour them some tea without appearing intrusive. Hans understood that she was rebuking them not for whispering in private, but because they were excluding her from their reprehensible conversation, which was the sort she preferred. Hans explained in hushed tones as she filled their cups and her neckline gave slightly: We were talking discreetly about the necessity of God’s non-existence so as not to offend your father. Álvaro added sardonically: I hope we haven’t offended you either. Well, Sophie replied, I had moments of devoutness in my teens. And then? asked Hans. And then, gentlemen, Sophie grinned, straightening up, I made a full recovery. A recovery, my child? Herr Gottlieb enquired, pricking up his whiskers. From my migraines, Father! She wheeled round. Do you remember my dreadful migraines?