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Schnitzler’s beautiful invention whiles away the hours remembering the inanity of his conquests and regretting that never in his life had he been loved, or even taken seriously, by a woman of intelligence. As I review my mementos I have but one regret: that there is not a single one among them for which I have any genuine affection.
    Dr. Ludtz knocks softly and politely at the door of the office. He has said that he does not think it healthy for me to spend so much time alone. But that is a lie. He fears that I am composing my memoirs and that his own name might find a place within them. Each time he enters my study he casts his eyes about suspiciously, hoping to discover the protruding edge of some unfinished manuscript, even though he cannot imagine a man actually writing the words I would have to write in order to detail my life.
    â€œCome in, Dr. Ludtz.”
    Dr. Ludtz smiles as he enters. “Ah, you’re here then. Why so much time spent in this office, my dear friend?”
    â€œThe ventilation is pleasant.”
    Dr. Ludtz nods, pretending satisfaction with my answer. “The ventilation, yes.” He glances at the empty chair in front of my desk. “May I?”
    â€œBy all means.”
    He sits down and looks at the ceiling fan slowly turning above his head. “Excellent for ventilation.”
    â€œYes.”
    He turns back toward me, his eyes carefully searching over the cluttered bookshelf behind me. “Have you read anything of note recently?”
    â€œIt is getting more difficult for me to read now,” I tell him. “I think my eyes are dimming slightly.”
    Dr. Ludtz looks at me sadly. “Perhaps you’re overtired. Working so much in this office, that must be quite taxing, don’t you think?”
    I do not reply.
    â€œAnd the arthritis?” Dr. Ludtz asks gently. “Is that any better?”
    â€œArthritis does not cure itself, Dr. Ludtz.”
    Dr. Ludtz shakes his head. “No. That is true. But it is bearable, I hope.”
    â€œBearable. Yes.” I have often wondered what Dr. Ludtz’s bedside manner was like before he became a doctor for the Special Section. I expect that it was gentle, kindly, utterly proper. Those large, beefy hands must have stroked the small pink cheeks of thousands of children before they became familiar with electroshock devices. We all have ironic histories, I suppose, but history has made some a good deal more ironic than others.
    Dr. Ludtz watches me sadly. “Ah, the natural shocks that flesh is heir to.”
    I smile indulgently. “You must learn to speak outside quotation from time to time, Dr. Ludtz.”
    Dr. Ludtz looks slightly scolded. “But with learning one discovers that everything one might say has been said better by someone else, don’t you agree?” He turns away and rests his eyes on the river. “It’s very calm today. Perhaps we could get Alberto and Tomás to take us rowing on the river. That would be relaxing, don’t you think, Dr. Langhof?”
    In the Camp he relaxed by lounging on his bunk blowing smoke rings at the ceiling. It became one of his obsessions to blow ten of them in a series, one after the other, like boxcars.
    â€œI’m afraid I cannot join you,” I tell him.
    â€œMay I ask why, my dear friend?”
    â€œI am in the middle of preparations.”
    Dr. Ludtz blinks and stares at me worriedly. “Preparations for what?”
    â€œFor El Presidente’s visit.”
    Dr. Ludtz looks relieved. “Ah, yes. I see.” He smiles contentedly. “I suppose it will be a lavish affair, as usual.”
    â€œEl Presidente prefers it lavish.”
    Dr. Ludtz leans forward. “He must be treated with the greatest deference.”
    â€œYes.”
    Dr. Ludtz smirks. “An esteemed visitor.”
    â€œIndeed.”
    He chuckles gently. “Tell me, Dr. Langhof, have you heard of the visit Hölderlin made to