Die mehreren Wehmüller und ungarischen Nationalgesichter

In the waning days of a harsh summer, a wandering painter named Wehmüller finds himself stranded in a plague‑ravaged borderland. A desperate letter from his wife, who has already set out for their home, urges him to hurry back before a regiment of Hungarian grenadiers departs, threatening to tear apart the fragile ties of love and friendship he has cultivated. With his precious collection of thirty‑nine painted “national faces” in a battered tin case, he prepares to dash through quarantined towns, balancing his art, his supplies, and the lingering scent of turpentine.

The story unfolds in a vivid tapestry of travel, duty, and the peculiar commerce of portraiture. Wehmüller’s method—offering ready‑made likenesses for a modest fee, then adding a personal touch for the buyer—has won him both admirers and rivals. As he straps his case to his back and readies his makeshift travel staff, he must decide whether to heed the warning of a farmer’s messenger or press on toward Stuhlweißenburg, where his wife's waiting hands and the regiment’s march await.