Freud's Mistress by Karen Mack Page B

Silverstein replied, draining his glass. “You might lose a few patients, as well as some of your imperial connections. Don’t you agree, Fräulein Bernays?” he said, abruptly turning to her.
    â€œWell, most certainly the emperor has no choice,” Minna said, going on to discuss the disastrous ramifications of imperial support of Lueger, especially for the Jews.
    â€œMy sentiments exactly,” Silverstein said, smiling at Minna. “My word, Sigmund. A beautiful, intelligent woman living in your house. What good fortune . . .”
    â€œLet’s play,” Freud said, with sudden irritation.
    Freud took the cards out of the pack and shuffled deftly. He glanced at Minna seemingly in annoyance, which left her slightly rattled. Then he cut the deck and dealt counterclockwise, sixteen cards to each player, carefully placing the six tarock cards facedown in the center.
    As the bidding began, Minna found herself in a slightly awkward situation, trying to join the conversation with the men, darting from one subject to another, while making a respectable impression with her card-playing skills
.
    â€œI just canceled my subscription to
La Libre
,” said Skekel, referring to the newspaper
La Libre Parole
, Lueger’s political tool. “I couldn’t endure any more of their fanatic ravings.”
    â€œI agree, I just read the
Neue
,” Minna said, trying to keep her mind on the game.
Follow suit if you can.
    â€œI had a nephew,” Skekel said, lowering his voice, “who changed his Jewish name to a Christian one . . . and then he went into the ‘arts.’ . . . Destroyed his mother.”
    If you can’t follow suit, play a tarock.
    â€œHe can go to vespers twenty times a day, and they’ll still call him a Jew,” Freud added.
    No tarock, so I can play any card.
    The discussion carried on as Minna tried not
to lead with a tarock until a tarock had been played or, heaven forbid, discard the wrong number of cards or, disaster, fail to beat the highest card. At one point, she thought, Perhaps I should just play the Fool. But then again, he never wins a trick. Finally, Silverstein got up to refill his glass, and the men decided to take a bit of a break.
    â€œMore wine, my dear?” Silverstein asked.
    â€œWhy, yes, thank you.”
    He walked over with the decanter and began to fill her glass.
    â€œSo when do you get a free day, Minna?” he asked. “Do they ever let you out of here?”
    â€œShe’s not a domestic,” Freud said, glaring at him. “She’s my sister-in-law.”
    â€œDon’t get so testy, Sigmund,” Silverstein said, with an amused smile that was not returned.
    There was an uncomfortable silence, and Silverstein wisely decided to change the subject. “I suppose you’ve read about Oscar Wilde?” he asked.
    â€œHow could one not? It’s been in all the papers,” Freud snapped back.
    â€œHe should have fled to France, but his mother advised him to stay and ‘fight like a man,’” Silverstein said.
    â€œThat’s what you get when you listen to your mother,” Freud replied.
    â€œHe only has himself to blame, his behavior was reckless and indiscreet,” Skekel added.
    â€œAnd his play
The Importance of Being Earnest
, such a hit in America,” Minna said.
    â€œWell he’s finished now . . . two years’ hard labor, the maximum for gross indecency and sodomy—” said Freud.
    â€œGentlemen, I don’t think this is an appropriate subject . . .” interrupted Skekel, nodding at Minna.
    â€œI’m perfectly capable of discussing the Wilde case,” Minna said, brushing off the man’s patronizing, if well-meaning, concerns. “In my opinion, if he hadn’t sued the Marquess of Queensberry for criminal libel, he wouldn’t have been in this fix. A private prosecution at the height