Character

Text: The Brothers.

“Come along, boys, this is Emma Harte. Mrs. Harte”. She led them to Emma, her face radiant. “This is David,” she said, introducing the taller boy, “and this is Victor.” The Kallinski boys shook hands with Emma, extended their greetings, and thanked her for coming to their father’s aid. They crossed the room to the sofa and sat down together.

David and Victor Kallinski were as different in every way as two brothers could be. David, who was the elder at nineteen, was tall like his mother and well built. He had been blessed with her lovely blue eyes, and his face, handsome and open, had a suggestion of her Slavic bone structure. He had the same black wavy hair his father’s had once been and he had also inherited the older man’s outward – going manner. David was a mover, a doer, ambitious, clever and driven. If there was a faint hint of cynicism in his alert blue eyes it was counteracted by generosity of his wide mouth and his friendly demeanor. David was intelligent, intuitive, and excessively motivated towards one goal: success. He lived by one rule and one rule alone – the survival of the fittest. He not only intended to survive, but to survive in style and with wealth.

Victor, who was sixteen, was small, almost birdlike, and this he resembled his father to some extent. He had his mother’s straight shiny black hair, but otherwise he did not appear to physically favor either of them. His large eyes were soft and hazel in color and his face was smooth and bland without any emphatic features, but he was pleasant – looking. His sober face mirrored his character, for Victor Kallinski was a gentle and reflective boy; and in one way his temperament was similar to his father’s, he had a great forbearance and a deep understanding of human frailties, an understanding that was mature and remarkable in one so young. He was a thinker and a dreamer, and he had the soul of a poet. Victor was happiest when he was alone reading, or gazing at great paintings in the museum, or listening to the music of Mahler and Beethoven. He was reserved of nature to a point of shyness and not given to conversing easily with anyone, especially strangers. Victor was looking at Emma from under his long dark lashes, a quiet smile playing around his mouth, thinking what a compassionate girl she must be, and how her actions today only reinforced his inherent belief that essentially mankind was good. Like his father, Victor was utterly without bitterness.