“I thought maybe something in your office or at the court had disturbed you. You’re sensitive, but able to hide your feelings well.”

“I went to the doctor only because I couldn’t find a tangible cause.”

“You haven’t told me how it all started.”

“I talked to you so often about that.”

“Only about the results, but how precisely did it start?”

A reckless impulse drives you to confess. “It’s difficult to establish when or how the change began, but I remember meeting with one of the litigants of Soliman Pasha’s estate. The man said, ‘I’m grateful, Counselor. You’ve grasped the details of the situation superbly. Your fame is well deserved. I have great hopes of winning the case.’

“I replied, ‘So do I.’ ”

“He laughed contentedly and I felt a sudden, inexplicable wave of anger. ‘Suppose you win the case today and possess the land only to have it confiscated tomorrow by the government?’ He answered disparagingly, ‘All that matters is that we win the case. Don’t we live our lives knowing that our fate rests with God?’ I had to admit the validity of his argument, but my head began to spin and everything seemed to disappear.”

She glanced at him with surprise, and said, “That was the reason?”

“No, I don’t know an exact reason, but I was undergoing a subtle, persistent change; thus I was agitated unreasonably by the man’s words, words repeated by millions of others every day without any effect.”

“Of course you can only think about death as men of wisdom do.”

“I wonder how wise men regard death.”

“Well, fortunately, that’s known.” She looked at him inquiringly. “And after that you hated work.”

“No…no, I can’t say that. It may have been earlier, or later.”

“I’m so depressed that I can hardly discuss it with you.”

“Are you so concerned about the work?”

“I care only about you.”

A case is postponed, another, then a third. You spend the day glued to your chair, legs stretched under the desk, chain smoking and staring vacantly at the ceiling.

“I’m tired of walking,” she said.

“But generally you walk twice this distance.”

She lowered her eyes. “It’s my turn to confess. I may be pregnant.”

His stomach sank and he yearned more sharply for the magic key of escape. “But,” he murmured.

She said calmly, “Dear, God’s will is stronger than any of our designs.” Then she added, pressing his arm, “And you’ve not been blessed with your crown prince!”

As they walked back home, a coquettish smile played in her eyes. He said to himself that a bit of liquor would dissipate the languor so he could feign the role of lover, as he feigned marriage and health.