Mortal Mischief

It would not be difficult – and, if she landed in the right place, it would be painless.

80

THEY HAD DINED on caviar, sardines, goose liver, and pheasant's eggs in aspic, washed down with two bottles of Asti and followed by the sweetest pineapple. Coffee was served with cognac pastilles, each delicately wrapped in silver foil. They had intended to leave an hour earlier, but somehow satiety, slivovitz and cigars kept them seated. None of the other tables were occupied, and a hovering waiter suggested that they had overstayed their welcome.

'We had a splendid time,' said Kanner. 'The play was excellent, and afterwards we walked the length of the Naschmarkt . . . I couldn't take my eyes off her. You know, Max, I have to admit that I haven't felt this way in a long time.'

'But Stefan, you said much the same thing of that shop girl – what was her name?'

'Gabrielle.'

'And the singer?'

'Cora.'

'And, if I'm not mistaken, the actress?'

'Emilie.'

'So how is Nurse Rupius different?'

'She just is . . .' said Kanner, making a circle in the air with his cigar. A flake of ash traced a figure of eight as it floated down to the table. 'I can't explain it. Which makes me more inclined to trust the authenticity of my affection.'

'You are a romantic, Stefan.'

'There are some things in our nature that defy analysis, Max – and love is one of them.'

'Ahh . . .' said Liebermann, leaning forward and clutching the edge of the table with both hands. 'So you are in love with Nurse Rupius.'

'Well, put it this way – Cupid might not have landed an arrow yet but he's certainly emptied a quiverful in my direction.'

The waiter coughed.

Liebermann looked at his wristwatch and noticed that he was having some difficulty focusing. The hands blurred, making it difficult for him to establish the exact hour. He should have refused the slivovitz.

'It's not time to go yet, is it?' asked Kanner.

Liebermann shrugged and lifted his glass. He swilled the contents around and took a sip. As the warmth spread through his body, he felt his purchase on reality slip a little more.

'I wonder what really draws two people together?'

The question he posed was involuntary, finding expression as soon as the thought formed in his mind.

'Fate,' said Kanner, with mock solemnity.

'We need fate to bring us together, undoubtedly. If two people never meet, it's unlikely that they'll fall in love. But assuming that fate works in their favour . . .'

'I don't know why you're asking me, Max – you're the one who's engaged to be married!'

'Seriously, Stefan . . .'

Kanner drew on his cigar and grimaced: 'It has to be said, it isn't easy to fall in love with an ugly woman.'

'We fall in love with beauty, then?'

'Beauty certainly sharpens desire.'

'Then why don't we fall in love with every attractive woman?'

Kanner paused for a moment and, looking somewhat perplexed, exclaimed: 'Perhaps I do!' A beat of silence was followed by a quick burst of laughter. 'What does your friend Professor Freud have to say about love?'

'Not much,' Liebermann replied. 'He is more taxed by sexuality. But I gather he takes a rather dim view of romance. He believes that love is a kind of symptom that arises through the repression of libido.'

'Mmmm . . . which implies that once one has become intimate with a woman, passion cools?'

'Bluntly, yes.'

'He has a point . . . don't you think?'

Perhaps that was all it was, then: this dull ache, this longing to be with her – an urge, and nothing more. Something that he could master, like any other basic drive. If only he tried harder, it might be like skipping a meal or putting off sleep. But in truth Liebermann knew that this wasn't so. His attachment, for that was what it had become, was more complex.

'I don't agree with everything Freud says. I can't help feeling that the pleasure we derive from the company of a woman – a woman with whom one has formed an attachment – is more than just a frustrated animal instinct.'

'Now who is being romantic?'

'You misunderstand me, Stefan,' Liebermann continued. 'I am not referring to anything mystical or magical. What I mean is that there are more factors than just libido to consider. We are prone to desire, of course, but don't we also seek companionship, conversation? The comforting proximity of a kindred spirit?'

'Yes, but not all of us are lucky enough to have found her.' Kanner raised his glass. 'To the future bride!'

Liebermann could hardly bear the irony of their conversation, the cruel cross-purposes. The fug of his alcoholic stupor suddenly closed around him, making him feel cut off from Kanner, the restaurant, and, indeed, the whole of Vienna.

'Stefan . . .'

A note of desperation had entered Liebermann's voice.

'Yes?' his companion replied.

'I'm not always sure that . . . You know, sometimes I think . . .' He looked at Kanner, who was smiling foolishly.

What wise counsel could he expect from his friend now? If he had meant to take Kanner into his confidence he should have done so at the beginning of the evening. 'Oh, it doesn't matter.'

Kanner's hand dropped to the table, splashing the starched white tablecloth with slivovitz.

Liebermann beckoned the waiter and snapped: 'The bill, please. We're ready to leave.'

Part Six

The Riesenrad

81

AMELIA LYDGATE CLIMBED the steps of the university like a pilgrim, at once awed and giddy with excitement. The atmosphere of scholarship affected her being like a cleansing balm, emollient and soothing. In such a place she might leave the world behind, forgetting its vain preoccupations, empty chatter and tiresome emotional complexities, and seek solace in a universe of absolute values – the unquestionable certainties of science. Her destiny, she determined, was connected with these stones.

She paused and glanced upwards. The university was a beautiful construction, built in the style of a Renaissance palace. Its dimensions would have made a merchant prince envious. Along the rooftop, figures looked down on her like a detachment of guardian angels. Amelia took a deep, tremulous breath, and stepped beneath the shelter of three massive arches. If there were such things as benign protective agencies, they had been considerate of her fate.

Only a few months earlier, it had seemed that her ambition to study medicine in this Mecca of learning would never be realised. Yet now everything had become possible again. Doctor Liebermann had come by chance into her