The Other Einstein(41)

“I have a job now, don’t forget,” he said proudly, answering the question I hadn’t asked.

I embraced him tightly, then, with the coachman’s hand at my elbow, settled into the snug sleigh. Albert squeezed in after me, and the coachman laid a thick layer of furs, blankets, and shawls upon us. It would grow cold as we ascended.

“It’s delightfully close,” I whispered.

“Perfectly close for us lovers,” he whispered back, running his hands along my legs under the secrecy of the blankets. I shivered, and not from the chill.

The coachman assumed his position on a plank in the rear and cracked the whip. The horses were off, galloping gaily along the snow-laden paths leading to the Splügen. The coachman prattled on about the history of the pass and the natural wonders we encountered, but Albert and I paid attention only to each other. For hours, we wrapped ourselves together as we traveled through long, climbing galleries of open road, seeing nothing but snow and more snow.

“It’s like a white eternity,” I said. Eternity. Would I ever discover a scientific or mathematical truth that would have such an enduring impact as the theory of eternity?

“It is warm enough under these covers.” Albert tightened his hold around me. “Last night was wondrous, Dollie. When you let me embrace you in that special way…”

I blushed at the thought of our intimacy and buried myself deep in his arms. Each night, we’d grown more comfortable—and more wanton—with each other. Chiavenna had indeed become the place of our bohemian honeymoon.

“I think I’ll give this new Professor Weber our paper,” Albert said distractedly. I was well used to his rapid shifts in conversation from our love to our work. Ironically, his new superior at the Winterthur school was also called Professor Weber.

“Which one?” I asked from deep within the curve of Albert’s neck. There had been so many papers and theories over the past few years, and work wasn’t exactly at the top of my mind.

“The one on molecular attraction between atoms,” he answered. The faraway sound of his voice and the slackening of his arms told me his mind was elsewhere.

“‘Conclusions Drawn from the Phenomena of Capillarity’?” I sat up. We had researched and written a paper theorizing that each atom related to a molecular attraction field that is separate from the temperature and the way in which the atom is chemically bound to other atoms; we left open the question of whether and how the fields are related to gravitational forces.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

We had finalized this paper last month with the intent of submitting it to an esteemed physics journal. Publication would increase both of our chances of securing positions. “Won’t he ask who this other author is? This Miss Mari??”

Albert was quiet. “Would you mind if I listed only my name as the author? I’m hoping that if Professor Weber reads it and becomes as impressed as I think he will, he will offer me a permanent job.”

I didn’t answer. The thought of being expunged from the paper’s authorship bothered me; we had worked on it as equals. But if he was only showing it to the new Professor Weber to impress him and if we’d later submit it to journals with both our names, I could agree. Anything to speed along Albert’s ability to secure a permanent job.

“I suppose if you give it to him just to read…” I said, trailing off. I didn’t think I needed to insist that the publication authorship remain the same. Albert always had my best interests in mind.

“Of course, Dollie,” he said. “Just imagine how quickly we could be wed if I had this professorship in hand.”

I leaned forward to kiss him when the coachman interrupted us. “Signor! We have reached the crest of the Splügen pass. Do you and the signora want to get out and cross the border on foot? Many of my passengers do.”

“Yes,” Albert called back. “My signora and I would love to cross the Splügen on foot.”

The Splügen? I didn’t care about the Splügen at that moment or how we’d cross it. I was Albert’s signora.





Chapter 17


May 31, 1901

Zürich, Switzerland

“Miss Mari?, please attend to these numbers more diligently. I had expected far better attention to detail from you.” Professor Weber’s nostrils flared in annoyance. We were reviewing the research underlying my proposed dissertation on heat conductivity, and I had never sat so near to him before. I could see the precision with which he combed his dark beard and the quick flush of his cheeks when he was irritated or disappointed. He was even more intimidating in close proximity.

“Yes, Professor Weber.” As I uttered what seemed like my thousandth “Yes, Professor Weber” of the afternoon, I couldn’t help but think that my return to Zürich from Como felt like the descent of the angels to earth. Even though Albert would laugh at such superstitious nonsense, a biblical passage from Jude, one Mama often quoted, replayed in my head: “The angels who did not keep to their own dominion but deserted their proper dwelling, God has kept in gloom…” Like them, I had fallen from the heights of pure bliss to the dark grind of my final days as a student in Zürich, with only Weber for company. How could I be satisfied with the drudgery of earthly things—and Weber’s nastiness—once I’d had a taste of heaven?