“You knew that an autopsy would take place,” Liebermann continued, “and that the cuts on Zelenka's body would be discovered. However, you reasoned that these wounds would most probably be attributed to bullying, persecution, or torture—rather than to an erotic predilection. To reinforce this misconception, you wrote to the Arbeiter-Zeitung, in the guise of a former—and disaffected—pupil, Herr G. In this article, you denounced the culture of cruelty at Saint Florian's, and made reference to an invented punishment—'doing the night watch’—which had supposedly caused the accidental death of an unfortunate Hungarian boy called Domokos Pikler. In fact, Pikler did not fall to his death—he jumped. He suffered from suicidal melancholia. Your ruse was extremely effective. You did not fail to observe the cardinal rule of successful dissimulation: the inclusion of at least some of the truth.”
The mathematics master looked up and pulled the sleeve of his quilted jacket across his nose, leaving a trail of mucus on the faded silk. On his eyelashes, the remnants of tears caught the fading light.
“What did I do wrong?” Sommer asked Liebermann. “I did not coerce Zelenka. I did not force him. He wanted to do those things. He was a young man—but not so young as to be unconscious of his own actions, and insensible of their consequences…. I did not corrupt him. Our physical intimacies—however repugnant you might find them—created bonds of affection. Deep bonds. I know you will recoil if I claim that we knew love. You have opinions, no doubt, concerning the degree to which love can exist under such circumstances. We inverts are disqualified, on medical grounds, from admission into the higher realms of emotional life… although greater men have disagreed with that view in the past. Have you read the Erotes by Lucian, Herr Doctor?”
“No.”
“Two men debate the merits of loving boys compared to loving women. The defender of love for women argues that such love serves procreation, and is therefore more natural—a superior love. But his opponent reverses the argument. He agrees that love for boys is indeed a cultural rather than a natural phenomenon. But this shows that those who practice love for boys—or who have the imagination to derive pleasure from unusual acts—rise above nature. Love for boys is not yoked to primitive, animal passions. When the imaginative lover makes love, he does so with his aesthetic sensibilities fully engaged. When he makes love, he is—in a way—creating a work of art. He rises above the carnal. When the dialogue of the Erotes reaches its final pages, an adjudicator concludes that love for boys is the natural predilection of philosophers. It is the highest love.…”
Sommer clenched his fist.
“What did I do wrong?” He repeated his question. “You are a doctor and will describe me as a degenerate, an invert, a deviant. But may I remind you that it was Becker who killed Zelenka, not me! Respectable Dr. Becker, who would never have attracted such degrading appellations. And is it so very wrong to try to preserve one's position, one's livelihood? Had I been candid, I would have lost everything. You are fortunate, Herr Doctor, that your erotic instincts are directed toward socially acceptable aims. You did not make that choice—as I did not choose to be as I am. We are simply what we are—and what I am was not always judged to be bad. That is only the opinion of doctors in these modern times, and one day, opinions may change again. Therefore, do not judge me so unkindly.… The moral heights that you occupy are not so elevated as you think.”
Liebermann did not respond. Instead, he stood up and addressed Rheinhardt.
“I'll wait for you outside.”
66
LIEBERMANN GAZED OUT OF the carriage window.
The day was at its end and the hills had become shadowy and indistinct. He noticed the light of a fire—a speck of orange in a sea of darkness—and wondered who might be out there at this time. The temperature had dropped, and the landscape was looking particularly inhospitable.
“Cigar?”
Rheinhardt leaned across and offered him a Trabuco.
“Thank you,” said Liebermann. The young doctor struck a vesta and bent forward, allowing the end of his cheroot to touch the flame. “I still can't believe I was so slow-witted,” he said out of the side of his mouth. “I should have realized the significance of Zelenka's injuries as soon as you showed me the mortuary photographs— particularly those crural lacerations!”
“I must confess,” Rheinhardt responded, “I did not know that people did such things.”
“Then you should read the late Professor Krafft-Ebing's Psycho-paüiia Sexualis. It contains several cases of a similar type. For example, number forty-eight details the circumstances of an unfortunate gentleman whose young wife could only achieve sexual satisfaction if permitted to suck blood from a cut made on his forearm. The Psychopathia also contains numerous accounts of vampiric lust-murder.”
“Vampiric lust-murder?” Rheinhardt repeated slowly.
“Oh, yes… case nineteen: Leger—a vine dresser. He wandered in a forest for eight days until he came across a twelve-year-old girl. He violated her, tore out her heart, ate it, drank her blood, and buried her remains.”
Rheinhardt shook his head. It was remarkable how medical men— when confronted with the worst excesses of human behavior— could describe such horrors in the same impassive tone that they also employed when enumerating the symptoms of pleurisy or indigestion.
“What would make a man do such a thing?” Rheinhardt asked.
“A postmortem conducted by the great Esquirol,” Liebermann replied, “found morbid adhesions between the murderer's cerebral membranes and the brain.”
“Could Sommer suffer from similar adhesions?”
“I very much doubt it—he is no murderer. His predilection for blood is probably best construed as a kind of fetish… posing no more of a threat to society than another man's insistence that his mistress should always wear a short jacket.” Liebermann drew on his cigar and became pensive. “I cannot recall whether Krafft-Ebing ever reported hemo-erotic tendencies in an individual whose sexual orientation was already inverted. If not, then a thorough study of Herr Sommer
