While he waited for his carriage to be brought round the wine merchant cast his mind over what had been going on lately. His bank loan had been approved by Herr Ufer personally, his contract to supply the Brno diocese with wine had been formally approved by the Bishop, his contact in Germany had assured him of a regular supply of Eschendorf and Hammelburgh wines, all from the Franken region and wines of particular significance to the sensitive palates of his best customers, and, yes, his wife had been especially attentive to him last night.
For the most part Herr Druer tried to ignore his wife. Apart for formal occasions when they met with important clients or guests, their lives were almost completely separate. She had her duties running the household of a upper middle class Austrian burger, and he has his duties as a prominent citizen of a small town. These two worlds rarely overlapped. As far as Gustav Druer was concerned, his marriage had been entirely a social and business arrangement between his family and a well off, but socially declining and a unquestionably minor branch of Austrian nobility. Frau Druer had brought both respectability and a sizable dowry to their nuptials, and, as far as Herr Druer was concerned, little less.
Women were a mystery to him, and apart from a brief and very unpleasant encounter with a woman of the streets during his years at Berlin University, he had never considered the physical aspects of marriage any more than a monthly duty, when he remembered, or when he had time. But last night had been different.
He started to hum, then stopped himself with a stern admonition. But his walk down the steps and into the carriage were definitely lighter and even jaunty. Last night, for some reason he could not understand, there had been no guests at his table. His cook had provided all his favorite dishes and there had been three bottles of his best wine; a total extravagance that he had been about to comment on, but for some reason, had not. Across the candle-lit table his wife had been particularly well dressed and had a slight flush in her cheeks. She had agreed with everything he said and modestly laughed at his stories about life in Berlin; stories he had told many times.
By midnight he was shocked to find that the wine had all been consumed, the candles had guttered to stumps and his wife was sitting at his side on the sofa actually resting her head on his shoulder while he sipped his brandy. To his surprise he actually found this familiarity unobjectionable, even, yes, enjoyable.
And later ....