The baron could not meet Franks's eyes.
"I'd like to tell you something concerning my wife." He smiled, and Franks was struck anew by the man's handsomeness.
The baron moved to the office window, stood with his back to the room. "I have had many women, I suppose you might call me a promiscuous man, but I did love my wife — I say did, because over the years her illness had gradually made me hate her. I have, may God forgive me, wished her dead more often than I care to admit, and yet, when she attempts to kill herself my remorse, my dread of her dying and leaving me is very genuine, and my relief when she recovers, very real."
The baron rested his head against the glass.
"She was, Doctor, the most beautiful creature, I wanted to possess her the moment I laid eyes on her. She simply took my breath away. She was sweetness itself, she was naive, she was nervous, like an exquisite exotic bird. Her fragility made me almost afraid of her, as though if I held her too tightly, kissed her too deeply, she would be crushed. The more I got to know her, the more delightful she became, but in those days my fear of..."
He hesitated as if searching for the right word, then he turned to face Franks. "I had a fear of breaking her. She soon assured me I could not, and during our courtship she became more vibrant, even more outgoing. She was very amusing, with a wicked sense of humor. She was a great tease. She was, Doctor, everything I had ever dreamed of. I married her against tremendous opposition from my family, especially my mother. Perhaps Mama had some insight into Vebekka, but I would hear none of it. The first few months of marriage, I don't think I have ever known such happiness, such total commitment. I had never loved like that, or felt so loved, or been so satisfied."
The baron took two steps from the window, then turned back. His voice was hardly audible. "I had my first sexual encounter when I was fourteen. I had countless women, from society women to prostitutes. I was a normal, healthy man, obviously eligible, and known to be wealthy. I very rarely, if ever, had to court a woman. Perhaps that was why I wanted Vebekka so much, because she was, to begin with, unobtainable and completely disinterested in me. We did not sleep together until after we were married. I know it may sound laughable but I presumed she was a virgin."
Franks leaned back in his chair, waiting, but eventually he had to ask as the baron's silence continued.
"Was she? A virgin?"
The baron drew out a chair and sat down. "No she was not, she was very experienced. I was a little — no, more than a little — I was shocked. My bride was sexually aggressive, demanding, explicit, and insatiable. As I have said, the first few months with her — I have never known anything so totally consuming, I never experienced such peaks of emotion, such sexual gratification, and then, then she became pregnant."
Franks made a steeple with his fingers, waiting. After a moment the baron continued, but was obviously very uncomfortable, running his index finger around the collar of his shirt, as if it constricted him in some way.
"A few months after she became pregnant, she changed. She would not allow me to touch her, allow me anywhere near her, she was terrified she would lose the baby if we had sex. And then, this illness, whatever we want to call it, began. She broke my heart, Doctor. It was as if I had never known her. She behaved as if she hated me, and even when I was told that it was because she was ill, all I felt was her rejection."
Franks placed his hands flat on the desk.
"But after the birth, she was herself again? Did you resume your old sexual relationship?"
"No, she continued to reject me as a husband for a long time, at least ten months. Then all of a sudden it was as if it had never happened. I returned home one evening and she was my Vebekka again. But I could not be turned on and off like a faucet."
"So you rejected her?"
The baron laughed, a gentle, self-mocking laugh. "My wife was a very persuasive woman. For two months it was like a second honeymoon, and then as quickly as it had begun, it was over — she was pregnant again."
The baron explained that after his second son was born he attempted to persuade his wife to use birth control, but she adamantly refused. So the pattern had repeated itself yet again, but after that third time, when she had been ill for six months, he had no desire to be reunited with her.
"So you stopped loving her, after your third child?"
"I realized she was sick, knew by then that she did not really know what she was doing during these periods. So I simply arranged my life around her."
The baron's face flushed with guilt. He blamed himself. He had not been at home as often as he should have been. Then the guilty expression in the baron's eyes was replaced by an icy coldness. When he spoke, his voice grew quieter, almost vicious.
"My wife had taken to leaving the house late in the evening. She never took the car, always hired a taxi, and on many occasions did not return home until the following morning. I began to have her followed, for her own good, you understand."
"Were you considering a divorce?"
The baron dismissed the question with a shake of his head. He spoke quickly, not disguising his disgust. "She was picking up men, truck drivers, cab drivers, wandering around the red light district. As soon as I discovered this, I confronted her with it. She denied she had ever left the house, but she continued her midnight crawls, even when I was threatened with blackmail, she denied she was — virtually soliciting."
"You mean she was paying for sex?"
"Occasionally, or she was paid. It was a terrible time, and I was at my wits' end. I have never considered a divorce. She is my wife and the mother of my children, we are a Catholic family. It was out of the question."
"Was? Have you changed your mind?"
The baron picked up his coat, gave a distant smile. "Just a slip of the tongue."
His arrogance returned. He was again distant, icy cold.
"If you can't help her, then I am — and I assure you I have never considered this before — but I am prepared to have my wife certified."
The control slipped again. The baron leaned over Franks's desk. "I don't understand myself, you see, I just don't understand, after everything I have been through!"
Franks slowly stubbed out his cigar. "Understand what, exactly?"
"That I can... last night, I felt attracted to my wife. I did not believe myself capable of wanting her again. I must not allow her to manipulate me. I am tired, worn out by her. You are my last chance, perhaps hers. I ask you not just to help my wife, but me. Help me!"
Franks nodded. It was time for dinner, his stomach rumbled. He hoped the baron would leave. At that moment, Maja knocked on the door and popped her head in.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Miss Masters said to tell you the car's still waiting, but not to worry; she has taken a taxi back to the hotel."
Franks gave a pleading look to Maja.
"And you have another appointment in half an hour, Doctor!" Maja closed the door.
Franks rose to his feet, and the baron was already by the door, his hand on the handle.
"Thank you for your time, I appreciate it."
Franks clasped the baron's hand in a firm handshake. "I thank you for your honesty, and let us hope we will achieve some results."
At last Franks was alone and he slumped into his chair, buzzing the intercom for Maja. She appeared almost immediately, and smiled. "My, that was a long return visit! I hope it was fruitful!"
Franks laughed, and rubbed his belly. "I need food; I am starving to death!"
Maja brought in a tray of sandwiches and coffee, and the evening paper. He settled back, making himself comfortable, his eyes skimming the headlines, and then he flipped the paper open to the second page, glancing over the ads for the circus, paying no attention to the late afternoon news bulletins. One small five-line article stated that the Polizei had discovered a body in a small East Berlin hotel that evening.