Life in Munich

Adolf's four paintings, commissioned by Heidi and Otto von Hoffingen, marked the start of a lifelong career for Adolf as a romantic painter. There was a constant demand for his work, and people were willing to pay good money for it. Dreufey could in turn demand money from Adolf because of her role in his life.

"Without me, you're nothing!" she said mockingly whenever Adolf got a little full of himself. "You'd be sitting there, rotting away in that grotty little loft of yours."

Adolf would in turn acknowledge the facts. "You're right. You're a goddess, sent to Earth to save me."
"You're damn right, I am!" Dreufey would reply with a smile.

It wasn't difficult to convince Adolf to split his profits fifty-fifty with Dreufey. The division was largely symbolic anyway. They were a team, and most things were paid for jointly by the two of them.

Their arrangement gave Adolf more time to focus on his work, which resulted in even more money coming in.

Pretty soon, they had enough savings to buy a house with a large garden in one of Munich's most affluent suburbs, and they were able to do this despite the fact that Germany was in the midst of crippling hyperinflation.

Dreufey never trusted the paper money system, so she didn't put her savings into bank accounts where they would have been rendered worthless through inflation. She bought instead gold. What money she didn't need for daily expenses was taken to a local goldsmith and exchanged for coins.

Instead of selling one of her gold coins every now and again, she became a buyer. Adolf found this strange at first, but with inflation accelerating, it soon became clear that Dreufey's strategy was the better one. He too became a buyer of gold coins.

This put Dreufey and Adolf in the fortunate position of having a lot of savings at a time when most people were desperate for money, and the two were in this way able to buy a bigger and better house than they had thought possible only months earlier.

They ended up buying a modern two-story house. Upstairs, it had four bedrooms, an office, and a bathroom. Downstairs, it had a living room, library, dining room, kitchen and rest room, all arranged around an entrance hall with a wide staircase.

The house had a white plaster façade and a flat roof. There was also a large shed in the garden suitable as an atelier for Adolf.

The house had several rose beds, which made Dreufey think of Freya's gardens in Folkvangr.

"This reminds me of home," she said on visiting the place with Adolf for the first time.
"You grew roses in Iceland?"

Dreufey turned and looked at Adolf.

"Yes, we did," she said sternly.
"I didn't know you could grow roses in Iceland."
"Don't be silly. Of course, we do."

Adolf figured it better to drop the subject. It irked him that Dreufey would sometimes say these strange things, but he never dug into it, partially out of fear for what he might find.

However, they both agreed that the house was perfect for them, and with things being as they were, they were able to buy the house with their savings without resorting to bank loans.

The house became the center of their lives. Adolf set up his atelier in the large shed at the back of the house, and Dreufey became a full-time homemaker, sometimes spending time in Adolf's atelier as his model and companion.

Their lives revolved around all things pleasant and sensual, with frequent visits to friends, exhibits, theatres, galleries and restaurants. All of these things would in turn inspire Adolf to make even better art. The more they enjoyed life, the better his art became, and the more money they made.

"To think that sensuality can be so profitable," Dreufey said one day in Adolf's atelier. "The more we enjoy ourselves, the richer we become. Who would have thought that this is how the world works?"
"It doesn't come without effort on my part. I'm working hard for my money."
"But you're enjoying it, aren't you?"
"I'm loving it."
"So, it's not much of a sacrifice."
"Not at all."

Adolf directed Dreufey into the bed he had put into his atelier. He told her how and where to sit.

"Like this?" she asked.
"That's perfect!"

Adolf could never get enough of Dreufey. His sketchbooks were full of her in various poses and outfits. Every commission would result in sketches both in his green and blue books. He had to bring bookcases into his atelier to store them all. But his sketchbooks weren't merely put into the bookcases for storage. Adolf would frequently revisit his past work for inspiration.

After moving into their house in the suburb, Adolf never again mentioned any of his old drinking buddies, except for one time when he had come home from town, angry and upset. When asked about it, he told Dreufey that he had come across Anton in the streets, and a short conversation with the man had revealed that Anton had nothing but contempt for Adolf and his success.

"The man was green with envy and anger," Adolf told Dreufey. "Called me a dirty Jew, he did."
"Really. But why?"
"We bought this house with our gold savings, and that's a Jewish thing to do, according to him."
"What a strange little man."
"Not that little... But he's strange. You got that right."

Having bought a house together with Dreufey, Adolf thought it a good time for them to marry; to make their relationship official, and wholesome in the eyes of God.

He bought a diamond ring, set in a small box, and gave this to Dreufey one morning over breakfast.

"Will you marry me?" he asked.

Dreufey opened the box. Delighted to see the ring, she answered:

"But of course. Let's invite friends and have a party."

Adolf nodded in agreement.

"That too. But I want a Church wedding; a Catholic Church wedding."
"You want me to convert to Catholicism?"
"Is that a problem for you?"
"Yes, it is."
"You're that attached to your Protestant belief?" he asked.
"My what?"
"Your Protestant belief."
"Exactly. I'm very attached to it."

Adolf looked at Dreufey, bewildered. There were these strange little holes in her knowledge of things, as if she was from some other planet.

There was also the odd absence of any family in her life. There never was a letter or any other communication. Dreufey hardly ever mentioned her family, and this became particularly noticeable during their wedding preparations. The only guests invited by her were people she had come to know recently in Munich.

Adolf on his side, invited family and friends, but not a single one of his drinking buddies. That part of his life had come to a permanent end.

Their wedding took place at the town hall. It was the only practical solution, given that neither of them wanted to convert.

There were about twenty people present when they signed their names into the registry. On completing their signatures, they kissed, and everybody applauded.

The wedding reception was held in their new home. It was a beautiful day in May, and the guest wandered freely about downstairs and out on the balcony and into the garden. Adolf and Dreufey had food ordered and servants hired for the occasion, as was their usual way of arranging parties for more than a couple of people. All in all, it was a great success.

Life in the suburbs took on a rhythm of its own. Every day was a pleasant adventure, and Adolf's success allowed them to observe the world around them with distance and detachment. They didn't worry much about anything. Not even the constant war mongering during the late 1930s was of any direct concern to them. 

One day, while reading the newspaper in an easy chair by the bay window in their living room, Adolf remarked on the blatant propaganda that journalists were relaying to their readers.

"Politics really brings the worst out in people," he said with a sigh.
"Nasty bunch of liars. That's what they are," Dreufey said reflectively, knowing that Adolf liked to think of them that way.
"Why can't they let us alone to live our lives in peace?" he continued.
"There's no money in that, and no power. That's why."
"You're so right. I couldn't have said it better myself."

Adolf's pet-hate those days was radio news, which he refused to listen to.

"That stuff is nothing but dark magic," he said one day before turning off the radio at the start of a news broadcast. "People become unthinking drones when they listen to that drivel. It's sad to see how even smart people start repeating slavishly what they've heard on the radio, as if it must be true because it was told to them through this box on their shelf."

Dreufey, who knew a thing or two about magic, could only agree. It was sad and frightening to see how people would go along with even the most preposterous lies. The world was brought to the brink of war for no reason whatsoever.

However, the war never materialized. There was no charismatic leader to draw the people into it. People got tired of the incessant war mongering. They turned off their radios, and the spell was broken. Instead of sitting at home, agreeing with the talking heads on their radios, they went out to enjoy their lives, in the parks, in cafés and at home with friends.

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