Her averted head does not move at all.

‘Perhaps it would be best, ma’am, if I gave you a general examination. May I perhaps ask you to … to go to the trouble of coming into the next room?’

Then she does turn, suddenly. I feel a cold, determined gaze bent straight on me through her veil.

‘No, that won’t be necessary … I am fully aware of my condition.’”

 

The voice hesitated for a moment. The glass that he had refilled shone briefly in the darkness again.

“So listen … but first try to think a little about it for a moment. A woman forces herself on someone who is desperate with loneliness, the first white woman in years to set foot in his room … and suddenly I feel that there is something wrong here, a danger. A shiver runs down my spine: I am afraid of the steely determination of this woman, who arrived with her careless chatter and then suddenly came out with her demand like a knife. For I knew what she wanted me to do, I knew at once—it was not the first time women had made me such requests, but they approached me differently, ashamed or pleading, they came to me with tears and entreaties. But here was a steely … yes, a virile determination. I felt from the first second that this woman was stronger than me, that she could force me to do as she wanted. And yet, and yet … there was some evil purpose in me, a man on his guard, some kind of bitterness, for as I said before … from the first second, indeed even before I had seen her, I sensed that this woman was an enemy.

At first I said nothing. I remained doggedly, grimly silent. I felt that she was looking at me under her veil—looking at me straight and challengingly, I felt that she wanted to force me to speak, but evasively, or indeed unconsciously, I emulated her casual, chattering manner. I acted as if I didn’t understand her, for—I don’t know if you can understand this—I wanted to force her to speak clearly, I didn’t want to offer anything, I wanted to be asked, particularly by her, because her manner was so imperious … and because I knew that I am particularly vulnerable to women with that cold, proud manner.

So I remained non-committal, saying there was no cause for concern, such fainting fits occurred in the natural course of events, indeed they almost guaranteed a happy outcome. I quoted cases from the medical press … I talked and talked, smoothly and effortlessly, always suggesting that this was something very banal, and … well, I kept waiting for her to interrupt me. Because I knew she wouldn’t stand for that.

Then she did interrupt me sharply, waving aside all my reassuring talk.

‘That’s not what worries me, doctor. When my son was born I was in a better state of health, but now I’m not all right any more … I have a heart condition …’

‘Ah, a heart condition,’ I repeated, apparently concerned. ‘We must look into that at once.’ And I made as if to stand up and fetch my stethoscope.

But she stopped me again. Her voice was very sharp and firm now—like an officer’s on a parade ground.

‘I do have a heart condition, doctor, and I must ask you to believe what I tell you. I don’t want to waste a lot of time with examinations—I think you might show a little more confidence in me. For my part, I’ve shown sufficient confidence in you.’

Now it was battle, an open challenge, and I accepted it.

‘Confidence calls for frank disclosure, with nothing held back. Please speak frankly. I am a doctor. And for heaven’s sake take that veil off, sit down, never mind the books and the roundaboutation. You don’t go to visit a doctor in a veil.’

Proud and erect, she looked at me. For one moment she hesitated. Then she sat down and lifted her veil. I saw the kind of face I had feared to see, an impenetrable face, hard, controlled, a face of ageless beauty, a face with grey English eyes in which all seemed at peace, and yet behind which one could dream that all was passion. That narrow, compressed mouth gave nothing away if it didn’t want to. For a moment we looked at each other—she commandingly and at the same time inquiringly, with such cold, steely cruelty that I couldn’t hold her gaze, but instinctively looked away.

She tapped the table lightly with her knuckles. So she was nervous too.