Portuguese Irregular Verbs by Alexander McCall Smith Page B

was nothing wrong with a woman dentist, he thought; in fact, she was likely to be much more sympathetic and gentle than a man.
    Dr von Brautheim was a petite woman in her mid-thirties. She had a gentle, attractive face, and von Igelfeld found it very easy to look at her as she peered into his mouth. Her hands were careful as she prodded about in the angry area of his mouth, and even when her pick touched the very source of the pain, von Igelfeld found that he could bear the agony.
    ‘An impacted supernumerary,’ said Dr von Brautheim. ‘I’m afraid the only thing I can do is remove it. That should give you the relief you need.’
    Von Igelfeld nodded his agreement. He was utterly won over by Dr von Brautheim and would have consented to any suggestion she made. He opened his mouth again, felt the prick of the anaesthetic needle, and then a marvellous feeling of relief flooded over him. Dr von Brautheim worked quickly and efficiently, and within minutes the offending tooth was laid on a tray and the gap had been plugged with dressing.
    ‘That is all, Professor Dr von Igelfeld,’ she said quietly, as her instruments were whisked away into the steriliser. ‘You should come back and see me the day after tomorrow and we shall see how things have settled down.’
    Von Igelfeld arose from the couch and smiled at his saviour.
    ‘The pain has gone,’ he said. ‘I thought it would kill me, but now it has gone.’
    ‘Those teeth can be quite nasty when they impact,’ said Dr von Brautheim. ‘But otherwise your mouth looks very healthy.’
    Von Igelfeld beamed with pleasure. To receive such a compliment from the attractive Dr von Brautheim gave him a considerable thrill, and as he walked down the stairs he reflected on his good fortune in being able to see her again so soon. He would bring her a present to thank her for her help – a bunch of flowers perhaps. Was she married, he wondered? What a marvellous wife she would make for somebody.
    There was no more pain that night, nor the next morning. Von Igelfeld dutifully swallowed the pills which Dr von Brautheim had given him and at the Institute that day he regaled everybody with the story of the remarkable cure which had been effected. The others then told their own dental stories: the Librarian related how his elderly aunt had lost several teeth some years before but was now, happily, fully recovered; the Deputy Librarian had an entire row of fillings, following upon a childhood indulged with sweets; and the Administrative Director revealed that he had in fact no teeth at all but found his false teeth very comfortable indeed.
    That afternoon, von Igelfeld sat in his room, the proofs of the next issue of the Zeitschrift on his desk before him. He was wrestling with a particularly difficult paper, and was finding it almost impossible to edit in the way which he felt it needed to be edited. ‘Spanish loan words,’ wrote the author, ‘appear to be profuse in Brazilian dialects, particularly those used by river-men. But are they really loan words, or are they Brazilian misunderstandings of Portuguese originals . . . ’
    Von Igelfeld looked up from the paper and stared out of his window. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate, his mind was distracted. What were these river-men like? He tried to picture them: tough-looking men, no doubt, with slouch hats; characters from a Conrad story, perhaps. But the image faded and his thoughts returned to the memory of his trip to the dental studio and of the sweet face of Dr von Brautheim above him. What did she think of her patients, and of their suffering? He imagined her as a ministering angel, gently bringing relief to those in pain. Von Igelfeld recalled the touch of her hands and the delicious smell of the soap, a reassuring, almost-nursery smell. To be looked after by such a being must be paradise indeed. Just imagine it!
    He got up from his desk and walked about his room. Why was it that he kept thinking of her, when he