Amberville (30 page)

“Hair cells that die cannot be reproduced,” Margot Swan continued. “What happens is that the fewer cells you have left, the smaller the decibel range you can perceive. It’s a matter of range, the highest and lowest tones. But you already know that, of course.”

Reuben nodded. He nodded to confirm to Margot Swan that he had understood and to remind Father that forbearance was also a virtue.

“Do you think,” roared Father, “that you can decide what the Lord Magnus should devote himself to?”

The paw that was pointing at the desk was now aimed right at the doctor’s face.

“Do you think,” roared Father, “that you have the right to reduce a punishment that our almighty Magnus has pronounced? Do you think perhaps . . . that you are the equal of Magnus?”

The doctor finally realized what he was up against. Reuben looked down at the floor and put his fins over his ears. He did not want to hear. It could hurt as much as it wanted.

“Drexler’s syndrome,” said Margot Swan to the old composer, who again refused to lift his gaze from the floor, “is a disease around which I have devoted the greater part of my life to doing research. Drexler’s syndrome means that the hair cells in the ear die without apparent reason. The course of the disease is often very . . . aggressive. Sometimes it only affects hair cells, sometimes the hair cells are only the beginning.”

I prefer pain, thought Reuben, I prefer pain to this. And he got up and left Father and the doctor in the examining room. He sat down on one of the chairs in the waiting room, where he could still hear Father telling off the blasphemous doctor, and there and then he decided never to return to a hospital again. Fifteen minutes later Father came out of the consultation room. His cheeks were red, his eyes were large, and he was breathing heavily.

“Now we’re leaving,” he said triumphantly.

Reuben did not recall how they managed to find their way out.

“You have Drexler’s syndrome,” said Margot Swan. “As I said earlier, there is of course a slight possibility that I am mistaken, which is why we are continuing to take samples, but . . . I advise you to read as much as you can about the disease before the next time we meet, then I will try to answer any questions you have. Judging by what I see today—and once again, more is required to determine this beyond all doubt, but from what I know at this point—it’s a matter of about three weeks. Then your hearing is going to . . . be extremely limited, if not . . .”

Reuben Walrus did not know what Margot Swan was talking about. He could not for the life of him recall the name of the syndrome. And he would not recall how he managed to find his way out of the hospital this time either.