The 2 12 Pillars of Wisdom (11 page)

‘And who was this visiting professor?’ he asked icily.

‘Professor Dr Dr Prinzel,’ answered the Librarian. He looked curiously at von Igelfeld. ‘If you disapprove, of course . . .’

Von Igelfeld stepped forward and retrieved the copy of
Portuguese Irregular Verbs
from the trolley. The Librarian gasped.

‘Of course . . .’ he stuttered. ‘I had no idea that that work was involved.’ He snatched the tome from von Igelfeld and replaced it on the shelf. ‘It will, of course, remain exactly where it was. I should never have agreed to its being put in the back room, had I known.’

Von Igelfeld walked home. He was tired now, as the journey had begun to catch up on him. But he knew that he would be able to sleep well, now that he had identified the terrible plot which had been made against him. He would take no action against Prinzel and Unterholzer, who would just see that
Portuguese Irregular Verbs
remained in its accustomed place of prominence. He would not even say anything to them about it – he would rise quite above the whole matter.

It was a course of action of which the Holy Man would undoubtedly have approved.

sieben

Dental Pain

Professor Dr Moritz-Maria Von Igelfeld had excellent teeth. As a boy, he had been taken to the dentist every year, but treatment had rarely been necessary and the dentist had dismissed him.

‘Only come if you have toothache,’ he said to von Igelfeld. ‘These teeth of yours will last you your life.’

Von Igelfeld followed this questionable advice, and never thought thereafter of consulting a dentist. Then, shortly after his return from the French Philological Forum in Lyons, he felt a sudden, gnawing pain at the back of his lower jaw. He looked at his mouth in a mirror, but saw nothing other than a gleaming row of apparently healthy teeth. There were no mouth ulcers and there was no swelling, but the pain made him feel as if a long, heated needle was being driven into his bone.

He put up with it for a full morning, and then, after lunch, when it seemed as if his mouth would explode in searing agony, he walked to a dental studio which he had noticed round the corner from the Institute. A receptionist met him and took his history with compassion.

‘You’re obviously in great pain,’ she said. ‘Dr von Brautheim will take you next. She will finish with her patient in a few minutes.’

Von Igelfeld sat down in the reception room and picked up the first magazine he saw on the table before him. He paged through it, noticing the pictures of food and clothes. How strange, he thought – what sort of
Zeitschrift
is this? Do people really read about these matters? He turned a page and began to read something called the
Timely Help
column. Readers wrote in and asked advice over their problems. Von Igelfeld’s eyes opened wide. Did people discuss such things in open print? How could anybody talk about things like that? He read a letter from a woman in Hamburg which quite took his breath away. Why did she marry him in the first place, if she knew that was what he was like? Such men should be in prison, thought von Igelfeld, although that was not what the readers’ adviser suggested. She said that the woman should try to talk to her husband and persuade him to change his ways. Well! thought von Igelfeld. If I wrote that column I would give very different advice. In fact, I should pass such letters over to the police without delay.

The door of the surgery opened and a miserable-looking man walked out. He put on his coat, massaged his jaw, and nodded to the receptionist. Then von Igelfeld was invited in, and found himself sitting in the dental chair of Dr Lisbetta von Brautheim. It was a new experience for him; the only dentist he had ever consulted had been a man. But there was nothing wrong with a woman dentist, he thought; in fact, she was likely to be much more sympathetic and gentle than a man.

Dr von Brautheim was a petite woman in her mid-thirties. She had a gentle, attractive face, and von Igelfeld found it very easy to look at her as she peered into his mouth. Her hands were careful as she prodded about in the angry area of his mouth, and even when her pick touched the very source of the pain, von Igelfeld found that he could bear the agony.

‘An impacted supernumerary,’ said Dr von Brautheim. ‘I’m afraid the only thing I can do is remove it. That should give you the relief you need.’

Von Igelfeld nodded his agreement. He was utterly won over by Dr von Brautheim and would have consented to any suggestion she made. He opened his mouth again, felt the prick of the anaesthetic needle, and then a marvellous feeling of relief flooded over him. Dr von Brautheim worked quickly and efficiently, and within minutes the offending tooth was laid on a tray and the gap had been plugged with dressing.

‘That is all, Professor Dr von Igelfeld,’ she said quietly, as her instruments were whisked away into the steriliser. ‘You should come back and see me the day after tomorrow and we shall see how things have settled down.’

Von Igelfeld arose from the couch and smiled at his saviour.

‘The pain has gone,’ he said. ‘I thought it would kill me, but now it has gone.’

‘Those teeth can be quite nasty when they impact,’ said Dr von Brautheim. ‘But otherwise your mouth looks very healthy.’

Von Igelfeld beamed with pleasure. To receive such a compliment from the attractive Dr von Brautheim gave him a considerable thrill, and as he walked down the stairs he reflected on his good fortune in being able to see her again so soon. He would bring her a present to thank her for her help – a bunch of flowers perhaps. Was she married, he wondered? What a marvellous wife she would make for somebody.

There was no more pain that night, nor the next morning. Von Igelfeld dutifully swallowed the pills which Dr von Brautheim had given him and at the Institute that day he regaled everybody with the story of the remarkable cure which had been effected. The others then told their own dental stories: the Librarian related how his elderly aunt had lost several teeth some years before but was now, happily, fully recovered; the Deputy Librarian had an entire row of fillings, following upon a childhood indulged with sweets; and the Administrative Director revealed that he had in fact no teeth at all but found his false teeth very comfortable indeed.

That afternoon, von Igelfeld sat in his room, the proofs of the next issue of the
Zeitschrift
on his desk before him. He was wrestling with a particularly difficult paper, and was finding it almost impossible to edit in the way which he felt it needed to be edited. ‘Spanish loan words,’ wrote the author, ‘appear to be profuse in Brazilian dialects, particularly those used by river-men. But are they really loan words, or are they Brazilian misunderstandings of Portuguese originals . . .’

Von Igelfeld looked up from the paper and stared out of his window. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate, his mind was distracted. What were these river-men like? He tried to picture them; tough-looking men, no doubt, with slouch hats; characters from a Conrad story, perhaps. But the image faded and his thoughts returned to the memory of his trip to the dental studio and of the sweet face of Dr von Brautheim above him. What did she think of her patients, and of their suffering? He imagined her as a ministering angel, gently bringing relief to those in pain. Von Igelfeld recalled the touch of her hands and the delicious smell of the soap, a reassuring, almost-nursery smell. To be looked after by such a being must be paradise indeed. Just imagine it!

He got up from his desk and walked about his room. Why was it that he kept thinking of her, when he should have been thinking of the
Zeitschrift
? This had only happened to him once or twice before, and he distrusted the feeling. It had happened once when he was nineteen, and he had met, for a mere afternoon, the daughter of his Uncle Ludwig’s neighbour. She had been at the conservatory in Berlin and had played her viola for him. He had seen her once or twice after that and then she had gone to America and never come back. He imagined a crude fate for her in the United States – living in a characterless apartment block with urban ugliness all about and a husband who growled and talked through his nose.

Von Igelfeld left his room and walked down the corridor to Unterholzer’s small study. Unterholzer was in, leafing through his share of the
Zeitschrift
proofs, shaking his head disapprovingly.

‘These printers,’ he said to von Igelfeld. ‘They must be illiterate. Here’s a page with the diacritical marks all in the wrong place. They’ll have to reset the whole thing.’

Von Igelfeld nodded absent-mindedly.

‘I went to the dentist yesterday,’ he announced. ‘I was in great pain.’

Unterholzer looked up, concerned.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Did he fix everything up?’

‘She,’ said von Igelfeld, smiling. ‘It was a lady dentist. And she made everything much better.’

‘Oh,’ said Unterholzer, his eyes returning to the proofs. ‘I’m happy to hear that you’re no longer in pain.’

Von Igelfeld crossed Unterholzer’s room and looked disapprovingly out of the window: in contrast to the view from his own room, Unterholzer had a very unedifying view of the Institute car park. Perhaps it was good enough for him; poor Unterholzer.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She was a very charming dentist indeed. Very charming. In fact, I certainly would not mind pursuing her acquaintance.’

‘Is that so?’ said Unterholzer, still looking at the proofs. ‘Perhaps I should go and have my teeth checked. Where is her studio?’

‘Just round the corner,’ said von Igelfeld. ‘And it’s a good idea to go to the dentist regularly, you know. When did you last go?’

‘About a year or two ago,’ said Unterholzer vaguely.

Von Igelfeld tut-tutted. ‘That’s not frequently enough,’ he said. ‘Dr von Brautheim recommends a visit once every six months.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Unterholzer. ‘I’ll make an appointment soon.’

Von Igelfeld gave up. He had hoped to be able to tell Unterholzer a little bit more about Dr von Brautheim, but he was clearly not going to be at all receptive. That was the trouble with Unterholzer, he thought – he was too literal. He had very little imagination.

On the appointed day, von Igelfeld dressed with care for his visit to the dental studio. He put on the bright red tie he had bought in Rome, and he took especial care in choosing his shirt. Then, with at least half an hour in hand, he made his way to the dental studio, carrying with him the present he had decided to give Dr von Brautheim. It was not a present which he usually gave to people, as it was not at all inexpensive. But Dr von Brautheim was different, and he had carefully wrapped it in soft purple paper he had acquired from a gift shop near his house.

He intended to do more than give her a present, though. He had decided that he would enquire discreetly of the receptionist whether her employer was single, and if that was the case – Oh bliss! – then he would ask her to join him for lunch some weekend. He would set up a lunch party – perhaps Zimmermann might come – and that would be a good setting in which to get to know her better.

The receptionist did not appear surprised by the question.

‘Dr von Brautheim is unmarried,’ she said. ‘She lives with her elderly parents. Her father was Professor of Dentistry in Cologne.’

Von Igelfeld was delighted with this information. What a perfect background for such a person! Dentistry might not be the most prestigious career, but it was an honourable calling and people were wrong to look down upon it. And undoubtedly the von Brautheim family had once done something better, as the name suggested distinction of some sort.

He was admitted into the studio and, blushing slightly, took his place in the chair.

Dr von Brautheim took no more than a few minutes to attend to his mouth.

‘It’s healing nicely,’ she said. ‘And I see no complications. You may rinse your mouth out now.’

Disappointed at the brevity of the treatment, von Igelfeld became flustered. He had intended to raise the subject of the lunch party at this stage, but there was something about the situation which suggested that it would be inappropriate. There was still the present, though, and as he stood at the doorway he thrust it into her hands.

‘This is a small token of my appreciation,’ he said formally. ‘You’ve been so kind.’

The dentist smiled, a warm, melting smile that made von Igelfeld feel weak at the knees.

‘How kind of you Professor Dr von Igelfeld,’ she said. ‘How unnecessary, but how kind. May I open it now?’

‘Of course,’ said von Igelfeld. ‘I should be delighted.’

Dr von Brautheim unwrapped the soft purple paper and there it was, in her hands,
Portuguese Irregular Verbs
!

‘How kind!’ she repeated. ‘Such a large book too!’

Over the next week, von Igelfeld thought of little else. He had decided that he would leave it about ten days before he sent the note inviting her to the lunch, which would be held a month after that. This would mean that it would be unlikely that she would have another commitment and would therefore accept. In due course the letter was written, and a prompt reply received. Yes, she would be delighted to attend his lunch party on the stated date.

Meanwhile, Unterholzer announced that he had himself consulted Dr von Brautheim, who had suggested two fillings and a new crown. He was delighted with her treatment, and told von Igelfeld that for the first time in his life he found himself looking forward to being in the dentist’s chair. Von Igelfeld found this rather presumptuous, but said nothing.

A few days before the lunch party was due to take place, von Igelfeld decided that he could properly call on Dr von Brautheim again to give her directions as to how to reach his house. It was not strictly speaking necessary, as she would undoubtedly have a map of the town, but it would give him an opportunity to see her again.

He made his way up to the dental studio, his heart hammering with excitement. The receptionist greeted him warmly and asked him whether he was experiencing further trouble with his teeth. Von Igelfeld explained his mission, and was disappointed when the receptionist told him that it was Dr von Brautheim’s afternoon off and that she would not be in until tomorrow.