'But this is by Klinger too.'
'Yes, but it's not Klinger's Beethoven, is it?'
Liebermann smiled, enjoying the girls' frustration.
They emerged in a large austere space under a vaulted ceiling decorated with ceramic plaques and primitive sculptures. Liebermann was utterly enchanted. He felt like an archaeologist, exploring the miraculously preserved tomb of an ancient king.
'Isn't it wonderful?' he said.
'It is indeed,' said Clara. 'But if we continue at this rate, we'll never get to see the main exhibit.'
Ignoring Clara's remark, Liebermann continued: 'Curiously affecting, don't you think – the atmosphere they've created? You know, I was reading in the
Stretching her hands out in front of her body, Clara closed her eyes and shuffled along like someone walking in their sleep. Unfortunately, at that moment a party of gentlemen appeared. One of them looked particularly flamboyant – a large, bearded man wearing a straw hat and a white pique vest.
'Clara!' said Hannah.
Clara opened her eyes and, quickly appraising the situation, pretended to be reaching towards Liebermann in order to brush a hair from his jacket. After the men had passed, Clara and Hannah burst out laughing – chattering breathlessly about what had just happened.
'Ladies,' said Liebermann, wagging his finger. He walked on, aware that Clara and Hannah were following, feigning remorse but unable to stop giggling.
Klinger's Beethoven was situated in the middle of the central aisle, on a raised dais and surrounded by a low circular fence. Semi-nude and seated on a large throne, the great composer leaned forward with clenched fists, gazing into an infinite, visionary distance. He was entirely godlike – the familiar heavy, square head exuded gravitas, power and dignity.
Here, then, was the inner sanctum, the fulcrum of the entire exhibition, a sacred place where the votaries of art could worship and pray.
There was no sign of the frosty couple whom they had encountered earlier, but many other people were milling around the sculpture.
'Now, that is beautiful,' said Clara. 'He looks like . . . he looks like Zeus.'
'Yes,' said Liebermann, pleasantly surprised. 'I think that must have been the intention.'
'He looks thoroughly annoyed,' said Hannah.
'Well,' said Liebermann, 'Beethoven had a lot to be annoyed about. Did you know, Mahler conducted a chamber arrangement of the Ninth symphony here – on the opening night?'
'Did he?' said Hannah. 'Oh, that would have been wonderful.'
'And in the presence of the artist, I believe.'
'My dear,' said Clara, taking Hannah's arm confidentially, 'do you know the Molls? They live in a new semi- detached villa in Heiligenstadt – on Steinfeldgasse?'
Hannah shook her head.
'Well,' continued Clara, 'if you don't, your mother will. Frau Moll used to be married to Emile Schindler, the painter. He died a few years ago, and Frau Moll married one of his pupils. Anyway, the daughter, Alma Schindler –' Clara lowered her voice '– such a flirt, you wouldn't believe it. They say she's very good-looking but, to tell the truth, I can't see it. Well, she was married in February – to Director Mahler.'
'Oh,' said Hannah, 'how lovely for her.'
'Well,' continued Clara, 'perhaps not. I've heard it said that the wedding was rather hurried . . .'
Hannah looked puzzled, and Clara, bending close, whispered something into the young girl's ear. Liebermann watched his sister's expression change from amusement to disbelief.
'Clara,' said Liebermann. 'Must you fill Hannah's head with such idle gossip!'
'Maxim,' said Hannah, 'you sound just like father.'
Opening her fan, Clara peered over its quivering fringe like a coquette.
'Someone has to keep Hannah informed . . .'
Liebermann sighed and stared into Beethoven's eyes. Clara and Hannah continued to chatter – but they fell silent when two gaily dressed young men genuflected in front of Klinger's masterpiece.
37
'IT WAS VERY KIND of you to see me, Minister Schelling. I realise that you are a very busy man.'
Schelling's jowls wobbled when he rocked his head backwards and forwards as he ushered Liebermann into the drawing room.
'It is my earnest wish that Miss Lydgate should be returned to health as soon as possible – she seemed so distressed when she was living here. My schedule today is rather hectic but I am perfectly happy to place myself at your disposal for the next half-hour or so, if you feel that my layman's opinion will be of some value.'
Schelling was of medium build and wore a dark suit, wing collars and a black bow tie. A gold watch-chain hung from his waistcoat, the fabric of which bulged against the pressure of an incipient paunch. His formal dress suggested that he intended to leave for the parliament building as soon as the interview was finished.
'Thank you,' said Liebermann. 'I won't delay you any longer than is absolutely necessary.'
A woman appeared in the hallway and entered through the open double doors. Her face was rather careworn, and the style and cut of her floral dress gave her a somewhat matronly appearance.
'My wife,' said Schelling. 'Beatrice, this is Doctor Liebermann, Amelia's doctor.'
'Frau Schelling,' said Liebermann, bowing.
She stood on the threshold, seemingly unsure of whether to enter the room.
'Would you like some tea, Herr Doctor?' she asked.
'No, thank you,' Liebermann replied.
She glanced quickly and anxiously at her husband.
'In which case, you will excuse me.'
She stepped backwards and closed the doors.
'Forgive me, Minister,' said Liebermann, 'but I was hoping to speak with Frau Schelling.'
'I'm afraid that won't be possible,' said Schelling in a peremptory fashion. 'My wife has found this business most upsetting. I must insist that she be spared any further distress.'
'Of course,' said Liebermann.
'I knew that you would understand. Please, do sit down.'
The room was large and well furnished. In the centre was a circular table over which a tablecloth with tasselled edges had been draped. The impressive display of flowers that it supported consisted of blooms that were out of season and Liebermann suspected they were synthetic: probably expensive silk copies. On an ornate chest of drawers, a glass cabinet was crowded with a collection of objets d'art, and on either side of this stood two electric lamps with green shades. Numerous family photographs in silver frames had been arranged on a small corner table. Liebermann noticed that none of them showed Herr Schelling and his wife together.
'Minister,' Liebermann began. 'I understand that you are related to Miss Lydgate?'
'Indeed. Her mother is a distant cousin – our families have always corresponded. When Amelia completed the English equivalent of the
'Yes, she has.'
'I suggested to Greta – Amelia's mother – that Amelia should live here. It's a big house and I thought the children might benefit. I was happy to support Amelia if, in return, she was willing to provide Edward and Adele with English lessons.'
'Were the children fond of their governess?'
'Yes, they were. It was a very satisfactory arrangement.'
Schelling leaned back in the well-upholstered chair and rested his hands on his stomach.
'When did you first realise that Miss Lydgate was unwell?'
