Death Instinct - Jed Rubenfeld [44]
“Don’t be silly. I’ll come with you,” said Younger.
That evening, Martha Freud, her sister Minna, and the Freuds’ maid Paula all fawned over Luc, pronouncing him the most adorable schmächtige Kerlchen in the world. Martha apologized repeatedly for the meagerness of the dinner fare, which in fact was the opposite of meager, but was extremely simple, as if the Freuds were country farmers. “The awful war,” said Martha.
“At least the right side won,” declared Freud.
Martha asked how her husband could say such a thing when they had lost everything.
“We didn’t lose everything, my dear,” said Freud chidingly.
“Only our life’s savings,” replied Martha. “We had it all in state bonds. The safest possible investment—everyone said so. There were pictures of Emperor Franz Josef on every one.”
“And now they are worth face value,” said Freud.
“They’re worth nothing!” said Martha.
“Just what I said, my dear,” answered Freud. “But our sons are unhurt, and our daughters are happy. True, we don’t have Martin home yet, but he’s better off where he is. As a prisoner, he’s fed every day, while Vienna is starving. My patients pay me in goat’s milk and hen’s eggs—which has at least kept food on our table. But our movement, Younger, is rich. We received a bequest—a million crowns—from a Hungarian patient. When the money is released, we’re going to build free clinics in Berlin and Hungary. Budapest will be our new center. Your old friend Ferenczi has just been appointed professor of psychology there.”
After finishing his meal, Luc was permitted to leave the table. He sat in a corner, absorbed in one of Freud’s books.
“Why don’t you let the boy stay here a night or two?” Freud asked Colette. “I can’t have proper sessions with him, but if he were under my roof, I could at least observe him.”
Younger found himself inwardly favoring Freud’s plan, but not for psychiatric reasons. If the boy stayed with the Freuds, that would leave the two of them—Colette and Younger—alone in the hotel.
“You could stay too, Miss Rousseau,” Freud continued. “Our nest is empty. Anna is away visiting her sister in Berlin. You could stay in her room.”
Younger spent the night by himself.
Colette was supposed to call at the hotel after breakfast the next morning. She did call after breakfast—but by then it was also after lunch.
“Martha and Minna took Luc to an amusement park,” she said, as if that fact explained the several hours she had been unaccounted for. “He’s so powerful—Dr. Freud. Those eyes. He sees everything.”
“I know where you’ve been,” replied Younger. “The Hutteldorf.”
“Yes. There was a train station near the Freuds’. I didn’t want to trouble you. But—” she raised her eyebrows importuningly.
“You need to go back,” said Younger.
“Could you help me just one more time?” she asked, smiling her prettiest smile. “I found the building where I think he used to live, but I couldn’t understand anyone. I don’t think the Grubers live there anymore, but maybe someone can tell us where they’ve gone. The train is quite fast.”
Where are his things?” Younger asked her as they rode the metropolitan rail to the Hutteldorf. Vienna’s winter had evidently been long and cold: although it was nearly spring, not a tree was yet in bud.
“Things?” answered Colette.
“Your soldier’s belongings. Which you were going to return to his family. Did you forget them?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I told you—I don’t think the Grubers live where we’re going. Why did you hide it from me—that you were married?”
“I didn’t.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
“Yes I did,” replied Colette. “You said you didn’t believe in marriage.”
“Which was true.”
She looked out the window. “You tell me nothing. It’s just like lying. It is lying.”
“Not