Ignorance By Milan Kundera "By far his most successful [novel] since The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

" Los !ngeles Times Boo" #evie$ Irena and %osef meet by chance $hile returning to their homeland& $hich they had abandoned t$enty years earlier. 'ill they manage to (ic" u( the thread of their strange love story& interru(ted almost as soon as it began and then lost in the tides of history) The truth is that after such a long absence "their memories no longer match." *+rudite and (layful,,,!n im(assioned account of the emigre as a character on the stage of +uro(ean history." Maureen -o$ard& .e$ /or" Times *-aunting...thundercla(s of insight& absurd meta(hors and characters $ho ha(lessly misunderstand one another collide in his hy(notically re(etitive and bitingly humorous (rose." 0an 1rancisco 2hronicle *! voice still masterful in its antennae for*the human condition.*... 1or Milan Kundera& life is (lainly else$here and $here it has al$ays been3 in the eye of its fiercely intelligent& endlessly ruminative beholder." 4hiladel(hia In5uirer I6.7#!.2+

8 "'hat are you still doing here)" -er tone $asn*t harsh& but it $asn*t "indly& either9 0ylvie $as indignant. "'here should I be)" Irena as"ed. "-ome:" "/ou mean this isn*t my home anymore)" 7f course she $asn*t trying to drive Irena out of 1rance or im(lying that she $as an undesirable alien3 "/ou "no$ $hat I mean:" "/es& I do "no$& but aren*t you forgetting that I*ve got my $or" here) My a(artment) My children)" "Loo"& I "no$ 6ustaf. -e*ll do anything to hel( you get bac" to your o$n country. !nd your daughters& let*s not "id ourselves: They*ve already got their o$n lives. 6ood Lord& Irena& it*s so fascinating& $hat*s going on in your country: In a situation li"e that& things al$ays $or" out." "But 0ylvie: It*s not ;ust a matter of (ractical things& the ;ob& the a(artment. I*ve been living here for t$enty years no$. My life is here:" "/our (eo(le have a revolution going on:" < 0ylvie s(o"e in a tone that broo"ed no ob;ection. Then she said no more. By her silence she meant to tell Irena that you don*t desert $hen great events are ha((ening. "But if I go bac" to my country& $e $on*t see each other anymore&" said Irena& to (ut

her friend in an uncomfortable (osition. That emotional demagognery miscarried. 0ylvie*s voice $armed3 "=arling& I*ll come see you: I (romise& I (romise:** They $ere seated across from each other& over t$o em(ty coffee cu(s. Irena sa$ tears of emotion in 0ylvie*s eyes as her friend bent to$ard her and gri((ed her hand3 "It $ill be your great return." !nd again3 "/our great return." #e(eated& the $ords too" on such (o$er that& dee( inside her& Irena sa$ them $ritten out $ith ca(ital initials3 6reat #eturn. 0he dro((ed her resistance3 she $as ca(tivated by images suddenly $elling u( from boo"s read long ago& from films& from her o$n memory& and maybe from her ancestral memory3 the lost son home again $ith his aged mother9 the man returning to his beloved from $hom cruel destiny had torn him a$ay9 the family homestead $e all carry about $ithin us9 > the rediscovered trail still mar"ed by the forgotten foot(rints of childhood9 7dysseus sighting his island after years of $andering9 the return& the return& the great magic of the return. ? The 6ree" $ord for "return" is nostos. !lgos means "suffering." 0o nostalgia is the suffering caused by an una((eased yearning to return. To e@(ress that fundamental notion most +uro(eans can utiliAe a $ord derived from the 6ree" Bnostalgia& nostalgieC as $ell as other $ords $ith roots in their national languages3 anoranAa& say the 0(aniards9 saudade& say the 4ortuguese. In each language these $ords have a different semantic nuance. 7ften they mean only the sadness caused by the im(ossibility of returning to one*s country3 a longing for country& for home. 'hat in +nglish is called "homesic"ness." 7r in 6erman3 -eim$eh. In =utch3 heim$ee. But this reduces that great notion to ;ust its s(atial element. 7ne of the oldest +uro(ean languages& Icelandic Bli"e +nglishC D ma"es a distinction bet$een t$o terms3 so"nudur3 nostalgia in its general sense9 and heim(ra3 longing for the homeland. 2Aechs have the 6ree"Ederived nostalgie as $ell as their o$n noun& stes"& and their o$n verb9 the most moving 2Aech e@(ression of love3 stys"a se mi (o tobe B"I yearn for you&" "I*m nostalgic for you"9 "I cannot bear the (ain of your absence"C. In 0(anish anoranAa comes from the verb anorar Bto feel nostalgiaC& $hich comes from the 2atalan enyorar& itself derived from the Latin $ord ignorare Bto be una$are of& not "no$& not e@(erience9 to lac" or missC. In that etymological light nostalgia seems something li"e the (ain of ignorance& of not "no$ing. /ou are far a$ay& and I don*t "no$ $hat has become of you. My country is far a$ay& and I don*t "no$ $hat is ha((ening there. 2ertain languages have (roblems $ith nostalgia3 the 1rench can only e@(ress it by the noun from the 6ree" root& and have no verb for it9 they can say %e m *ennuie de toi BI miss youC& but the $ord s*ennuyer is $ea"& cold anyho$ too light for so grave a feeling. The 6ermans rarely use the 6ree"Ederived term .ostalgie& and tend to say 0ehnsucht in s(ea"ing of the desire for an absent thing. But F 0ehnsucht can refer both to something that has e@isted and to something that has never e@isted Ba ne$ adventureC& and therefore it does not necessarily im(ly the nostos idea9 to include in 0ehnsucht the obsession $ith returning $ould re5uire adding a com(lementary (hrase3 0ehnsucht nach der Gergangenheit& nach der verlorenen Kindheit& nach der ersten Liebe Blonging for the (ast& for lost childhood& for a first loveC. The da$n of ancient 6ree" culture brought the birth of the 7dyssey& the founding e(ic of nostalgia. Let us em(hasiAe3 7dysseus& the greatest adventurer of all time& is also the greatest nostalgic. -e $ent off Bnot very ha((ilyC to the Tro;an 'ar and stayed for

ten years. Then he tried to return to his native Ithaca& but the gods* intrigues (rolonged his ;ourney& first by three years ;ammed $ith the most uncanny ha((enings& then by seven more years that he s(ent as hostage and lover $ith 2aly(so& $ho in her (assion for him $ould not let him leave her island. In Boo" 1ive of the 7dyssey& 7dysseus tells 2aly(so3 "!s $ise as she is& I "no$ that 4enelo(e cannot com(are to you in stature or in beauty. . . . !nd yet the only $ish I $ish each day is to be H bac" there& to see in my o$n house the day of my return:" !nd -omer goes on3 "!s 7dysseus s(o"e& the sun san"9 the dus" came3 and beneath the vault dee( $ithin the cavern& they $ithdre$ to lie and love in each other*s arms." ! far cry from the life of the (oor emigre that Irena had been for a long $hile no$. 7dysseus lived a real dolce vita there in 2aly(so*s land& a life of ease& a life of delights. !nd yet& bet$een the dolce vita in a foreign (lace and the ris"y return to his home& he chose the return. #ather than ardent e@(loration of the un"no$n BadventureC& he chose the a(otheosis of the "no$n BreturnC. #ather than the infinite Bfor adventure never intends to finishC& he chose the finite Bfor the return is a reconciliation $ith the finitude of lifeC. 'ithout $a"ing him& the 4haeacian seamen laid 7dysseus& still $ra((ed in his bedding& near an olive tree on Ithaca*s shore& and then de(arted. 0uch $as his ;ourney*s end. -e sle(t on& e@hausted. 'hen he a$o"e& he could not tell $here he $as. Then !thena $i(ed the mist from his eyes and it $as ra(ture9 the ra(ture of the 6reat #eturn9 the ecstasy of the "no$n9 the music that sets the air vibrating bet$een earth and I heaven3 he sa$ the harbor he had "no$n since childhood& the mountain overloo"ing it& and he fondled the old olive tree to confirm that it $as still the same as it had been t$enty years earlier. In 8JDK& $hen !rnold 0choenberg had been in the United 0tates for seventeen years& a ;ournalist as"ed him a fe$ treacherously innocent 5uestions3 Is it true that emigration causes artists to lose their creativity) That their ins(iration $ithers $hen it no longer has the roots of their native land to nourish it) Imagine: 1ive years after the -olocaust: !nd an !merican ;ournalist $on*t forgive 0choenberg his lac" of attachment to that chun" of earth $here& before his very eyes& the horror of horrors started: But it*s a lost cause. -omer glorified nostalgia $ith a laurel $reath and thereby laid out a moral hierarchy of emotions. 4enelo(e stands at its summit& very high above 2aly(so. 2aly(so& ah& 2aly(so: I often thin" about her. 0he loved 7dysseus. They lived together for seven years. 'e do not "no$ ho$ long 7dysseus shared 4enelo(e*s bed& but certainly not so long as that. !nd yet $e e@tol 4enelo(e*s (ain and sneer at 2aly(so*s tears. J < Li"e blo$s from an a@& im(ortant dates cut dee( gashes into +uro(e*s t$entieth century. The 1irst 'orld 'ar& in 8J8>9 the second9 then the third the longest one& "no$n as "the 2old" ending in 8JIJ $ith the disa((earance of 2ommunism. Beyond these im(ortant dates that a((ly to +uro(e as a $hole& dates of secondary im(ortance define the fates of (articular nations3 the year 8J<F& $ith the civil $ar in 0(ain9 8JDF& $ith #ussia*s invasion of -ungary9 8J>I& $hen the /ugoslavs rose u( against 0talin9 and 8JJ8& $hen they set about slaughtering one another. The 0candinavians& the =utch& the +nglish are (rivileged to have had no im(ortant dates since 8J>D& $hich has

allo$ed them to live a delightfully null half century. The history of the 2Aechs in the t$entieth century is graced $ith a remar"able mathematical beauty o$ing to the tri(le re(etition of the number t$enty. In 8J8I& after several centuries& they achieved their inde(endence& and in 8J<I they lost it. 8K In 8J>I the 2ommunist revolution& im(orted from Mosco$& inaugurated the country*s second t$entyEyear s(an9 that one ended in 8JFI $hen& enraged by the country*s insolent selfEemanci(ation& the #ussians invaded $ith half a million soldiers. The occu(ier too" over in full force in the autumn of 8JFJ and then& to everyone*s sur(rise& too" off in autumn 8JIJ 5uietly& (olitely& as did all the 2ommunist regimes in +uro(e at that time3 and that $as the third t$entyEyear s(an. 7ur century is the only one in $hich historic dates have ta"en such a voracious gri( on every single (erson*s life. Irena*s e@istence in 1rance cannot be understood $ithout first analyAing the dates. In the fifties and si@ties& emigres from the 2ommunist countries $ere not much li"ed there9 the 1rench considered the sole true evil to be fascism3 -itler& Mussolini& 1ranco& the dictators in Latin !merica. 7nly gradually& late in the si@ties and into the seventies& did they come to see 2ommunism& too& as an evil& although one of a lesser degree say& evil number t$o. That $as $hen& in 8JFJ& Irena and her husband emigrated to 1rance. They soon realiAed that comE 88 (ared $ith the number one evil& the catastro(he that had befallen their country $as not bloody enough to im(ress their ne$ friends. To ma"e their (osition clear& they too" to saying something li"e this3 "-orrible as it is& a fascist dictatorshi( $ill disa((ear $hen its dictator does& and therefore (eo(le can "ee( u( ho(e. But 2ommunism& $hich is sustained by the enormous #ussian civiliAation& is an endless tunnel for a 4oland& a -ungary Bnot even to mention an +stonia:C. =ictators are (erishable& #ussia is eternal. The misery of the countries $e come from lies in the utter absence of ho(e." This $as the accurate e@(ression of their thin"ing& and to illustrate it& Irena $ould 5uote a stanAa from %an 0"acel& a 2Aech (oet of the (eriod3 he describes the sadness surrounding him9 he $ants to ta"e that sadness in his hands& carry it far off some$here and build himself a house out of it& he $ants to loc" himself inside that house for three hundred years and for three hundred years not o(en the door& not o(en the door to anyone: Three hundred years) 0"acel $rote those lines in the 8JHKs and he died in 8JIJ& in autumn& ;ust 8? a fe$ days before those three hundred years of sadness he sa$ stretching ahead crumbled in ;ust a fe$ days3 (eo(le filled the 4rague streets& and the "ey rings ;angling in their lifted hands rang in the coming of a ne$ age. =id 0"acel have it $rong $hen he s(o"e of three hundred years) 7f course he did. !ll (redictions are $rong& that*s one of the fe$ certainties granted to man"ind. But though (redictions may be $rong& they are right about the (eo(le $ho voice them& not about their future but about their e@(erience of the (resent moment. =uring $hat I call their first t$entyEyear s(an Bbet$een 8J8I and 8J<IC& the 2Aechs believed that their re(ublic had all infinity ahead of it. They had it $rong& but (recisely because they $ere $rong& they lived those years in a state of ;oy that led their arts to flourish as never before. !fter the #ussian invasion& since they had no in"ling of 2ommunism*s eventual end& they again believed they $ere inhabiting an infinity& and it $as not the (ain of their current life but the vacuity of the future that suc"ed dry their energies& stifled their courage& and made that third t$entyEyear s(an so craven& so $retched.

8< In 8J?8& convinced that $ith his t$elveEtone system he had o(ened farEreaching (ros(ects to musical history& !rnold 0choenberg declared that than"s to him& (redominance Bhe didn*t say "glory&" he said Gorherrschaft& "(redominance"C $as guaranteed to 6erman music Bhe& a Giennese& didn*t say "!ustrian&" he said "6erman"C for the ne@t hundred years BI 5uote him e@actly& he s(o"e of "a hundred years"C. ! doAen years after that (ro(hecy& in 8J<<& he $as forced& as a %e$& to leave 6ermany Bthe very 6ermany for $hich he sought to guarantee GorherrschaftC& as $as all music based on his t$elveEtone system B$hich $as condemned as incom(rehensible& elitist& cosmo(olitan& and hostile to the 6erman s(iritC. 0choenberg*s (rognosis& ho$ever mista"en& is nonetheless indis(ensable for anyone see"ing to understand the meaning of his $or"& $hich he considered not destructive& hermetic& cosmo(olitan& individualistic& difficult& or abstract but& rather& dee(ly rooted in "6erman soil" Byes& he s(o"e of "6erman soil"C9 0choenberg believed he $as $riting not a fascinating e(ilogue to the history of +uro(e*s great music B$hich is ho$ I tend to see his $or"C but the (rologue to a glorious future stretching farther than the eye could see. > 1rom the very first $ee"s after emigrating& Irena began to have strange dreams3 she is in an air(lane that s$itches direction and lands at an un"no$n air(ort9 uniformed men $ith guns are $aiting for her at the foot of the gang$ay9 in a cold s$eat& she recogniAes the 2Aech (olice. !nother time she is strolling in a small 1rench city $hen she sees an odd grou( of $omen& each holding a beer mug& run to$ard her& call to her in 2Aech& laugh $ith fa"e cordiality& and in terror Irena realiAes that she is in 4rague. 0he cries out& she $a"es u(. Martin& her husband& $as having the same dreams. +very morning they $ould tal" about the horror of that return to their native land. Then& in the course of a conversation $ith a 4olish friend& an emigre herself& Irena realiAed that all emigres had those dreams& every one& $ithout e@ce(tion9 at first she $as moved by that nighttime fraternity of (eo(le un"no$n to one another& then some$hat irritated3 ho$ could the very (rivate e@(erience of a dream be a collective event) $hat $as uni5ue about her soul& then) But that*s enough of 5uestions that have no ans$ers: 7ne thing $as certain3 on any given night& thousands of emigres $ere all dreaming the same dream in numberless variants. The emigrationEdream3 one of the strangest (henomena of the second half of the t$entieth century. These dreamEnightmares seemed to her all the more mysterious in that she $as afflicted simultaneously $ith an uncontrollable nostalgia and another& com(letely o((osite& e@(erience3 landsca(es from her country "e(t a((earing to her by day. .o& this $as not daydreaming& lengthy and conscious& $illed9 it $as something else entirely3 visions of landsca(es $ould blin" on in her head une@(ectedly& abru(tly& s$iftly& and go out instantly. 0he $ould be tal"ing to her boss and all at once& li"e a flash of lightning& she*d see a (ath through a field. 0he $ould be ;ostled on the Metro and suddenly& a narro$ lane in some leafy 4rague neighborhood $ould rise u( before her for a s(lit second. !ll day long these fleeting images $ould visit her to assuage the longing for her lost Bohemia. The same moviema"er of the subconscious $ho& by day& $as sending her bits of the home 8F landsca(e as images of ha((iness& by night $ould set u( terrifying returns to that same land. The day $as lit $ith the beauty of the land forsa"en& the night by the horror of

returning to it. The day $ould sho$ her the (aradise she had lost9 the night& the hell she had fled. D Loyal to the tradition of the 1rench #evolution& the 2ommunist countries hurled anathema at emigration& deemed to be the most odious treason. +veryone $ho stayed abroad $as convicted in absentia in their home country& and their com(atriots did not dare have any contact $ith them. 0till& as time (assed& the severity of the anathema $ea"ened& and a fe$ years before 8JIJ& Irena*s mother& an inoffensive (ensioner recently $idEo$ed& $as granted an e@it visa for a $ee"long tri( to Italy through the government travel agency9 the follo$ing year she decided to s(end five days in 4aris and secretly see her daughter. Touched& and full of (ity for a mother she imagined had 8) gro$n elderly& Irena boo"ed her a hotel room and sacrificed some vacation time so she could be $ith her the $hole $hile. "/ou don*t loo" too bad&" the mother said $hen they first met. Then& laughing& she added3 ".either do I& actually. 'hen the border (oliceman loo"ed at my (ass(ort& he said3 *This is a false (ass(ort& Madame: This is not your date of birth:*" Instantly Irena recogniAed her mother as the (erson she had al$ays "no$n& and she had the sense that nothing had changed in those nearly t$enty years. The (ity she*d felt for an elderly mother eva(orated. =aughter and mother faced off li"e t$o beings outside time& li"e t$o timeless essences. But $asn*t it a$ful of the daughter not to be delighted at the (resence of her mother $ho& after seventeen years& had come to see her) Irena mustered all her rationality& all her moral disci(line& to behave li"e a devoted daughter. 0he too" her mother to dinner at the restaurant u( in the +iffel To$er9 she too" her on a tour boat to sho$ her 4aris from the 0eine9 and because the mother $anted to see art& she too" her to the Musee 4icasso. In the second gallery the mother sto((ed 8I short3 "I*ve got a friend $ho*s a (ainter. 0he gave me t$o (ictures as a gift. /ou can*t imagine ho$ beautiful they are:" In the third gallery she declared she $anted to see the Im(ressionists3 "There*s a (ermanent e@hibition at the %eu de 4aume." "That*s gone no$&" Irena said. "The Im(ressionists aren*t at the %eu de 4aume anymore." ".o& no&" said the mother. "They are& they*re at the %eu de 4aume. I "no$ they are& and I*m not leaving 4aris $ithout seeing van 6ogh:" Irena too" her instead to the Musee #odin. 0tanding in front of one of his statues& the mother sighed dreamily3 "In 1lorence I sa$ Michelangelo*s =avidl I $as ;ust s(eechless:" "Listen&" Irena e@(loded. "/ou*re here in 4aris $ith me& and I*m sho$ing you #odin. #odin: /ou hear) #odin: /ou*ve never seen him& so $hy are you thin"ing about Michelangelo $hen you*re right in front of #odin)" The 5uestion $as fair3 $hy& $hen she is reunited $ith her daughter after years& does the mother ta"e no interest in $hat the younger $oman is sho$ing her and telling her) 'hy does Michelangelo& $hom she sa$ $ith a grou( of 2Aech tourists& ca(tivate her more than #odin) 8J !nd $hy& through all these five days& does she not as" her daughter a single 5uestion) .ot one 5uestion about her life& and none about 1rance either about its cuisine& its literature& its cheeses& its $ines& its (olitics& its theaters& its films& its cars& its (ianists& its cellists& its athletes) Instead she tal"s constantly about goingsEon in 4rague& about Irena*s halfEbrother Bby her second husband& the one $ho ;ust diedC& about other (eo(le& some Irena remembers and some she*s never heard of. ! cou(le of times she*s tried to in;ect a remar" about her life in 1rance& but her $ords never (enetrate the chin"less barrier of

the mother*s discourse. That*s ho$ it had been ever since she $as a child3 the mother fussed over her son as if he $ere a little girl& but $as manfully 0(artan to$ard her daughter. =o I mean that she did not love her daughter) 4erha(s because of Irena*s father& her first husband& $hom she had des(ised) 'e $on*t indulge in that sort of chea( (sychologiAing. -er behavior $as very $ell intentioned3 overflo$ing $ith energy and health herself& she $orried over her daughter*s lo$ vitality9 her rough style $as meant to rid the daughter of her hy(ersensitivity& rather li"e an athletic father $ho thro$s his fearE ful child into the s$imming (ool in the belief that this is the best $ay to teach him to s$im. !nd yet she $as fully a$are that her mere (resence flattened her daughter& and I $on*t deny that she too" a secret (leasure in her o$n (hysical su(eriority. 0o) 'hat $as she su((osed to do) Ganish into thin air in the name of maternal love) 0he $as gro$ing ine@orably older& and the sense of her strength as reflected in Irena*s reaction had a re;uvenating effect on her. 'hen she sa$ her daughter co$ed and diminished at her side& she $ould (rolong the occasions of her demolishing su(remacy as long as (ossible. 'ith sadistic Aest& she $ould (retend to ta"e Irena*s fragility for indifference& laAiness& indolence& and scolded her for it. Irena had al$ays felt less (retty and less intelligent in her mother*s (resence. -o$ often had she run to the mirror for reassurance that she $asn*t ugly& didn*t loo" li"e an idiot. . . ) 7h& all that $as so far a$ay& almost forgotten. But during her mother*s fiveE day stay in 4aris& that feeling of inferiority& of $ea"ness& of de(endency came over her again. F The night before her mother left& Irena introduced her to her com(anion& 6ustaf& a 0$ede. The three of them had dinner in a restaurant& and the mother& $ho s(o"e not a $ord of 1rench& managed valiantly $ith +nglish. 6ustaf $as delighted3 $ith his mistress& Irena& he s(o"e only 1rench& and he $as tired of that language& $hich he considered (retentious and not very (ractical. That evening Irena did not tal" much3 she loo"ed on in sur(rise as her mother dis(layed an une@(ected ca(acity for interest in another (erson9 $ith ;ust her thirty badly (ronounced +nglish $ords she over$helmed 6ustaf $ith 5uestions about his life& his business& his vie$s& and she im(ressed him. The ne@t day her mother left. Bac" from the air(ort& and bac" to (eace in her to(Efloor a(artment& Irena $ent to the $indo$&to savor the freedom of solitude. 0he gaAed for a long $hile out at the roofto(s& the array of chimneys $ith all their different fantastical sha(es the 4arisian flora that had long ago su((lanted the green of 2Aech gardens and she realiAed ho$ ha((y she $as in ?? this city. 0he had al$ays ta"en it as a given that emigrating $as a misfortune. But& no$ she $onders& $asn*t it instead an illusion of misfortune& an illusion suggested by the $ay (eo(le (erceive an emigre) 'asn*t she inter(reting her o$n life according to the o(erating instructions other (eo(le had handed her) !nd she thought that even though it had been im(osed from the outside and against her $ill& her emigration $as (erha(s& $ithout her "no$ing it& the best outcome for her life. The im(lacable forces of history that had attac"ed her freedom had set her free. 0o she $as a little disconcerted a fe$ $ee"s later $hen 6ustaf (roudly announced some good ne$s3 he had (ro(osed that his firm o(en a 4rague office. 0ince the 2ommunist country had limited commercial a((eal& the office $ould be a modest one9 still& he $ould have occasion to s(end time there no$ and then. "I*m thrilled to have a connection $ith your city&" he said.

#ather than delight& she felt some sort of vague threat. "My city) 4rague isn*t my city anymore&" she ans$ered. ?< "'hat)" -e bristled. 0he had never disguised her vie$s from him& so it $as certainly (ossible for him to "no$ her $ell& and yet he $as seeing her e@actly the $ay everyone else sa$ her3 a young $oman in (ain& banished from her country. -e himself comes from a 0$edish to$n he $holeheartedly detests& and in $hich he refuses to set foot. But in his case it*s ta"en for granted. Because everyone a((lauds him as a nice& very cosmo(olitan 0candinavian $ho*s already forgotten all about the (lace he comes from. Both of them are (igeonholed& labeled& and they $ill be ;udged by ho$ true they are to their labels Bof course& that and that alone is $hat*s em(hatically called "being true to oneself"C. "'hat are you saying:" he (rotested. "Then $hat is your city)" "4aris: This is $here I met you& $here I live $ith you." !s if he hadn*t heard her& he stro"ed her hand3 "!cce(t this as my gift to you. /ou can*t go there. 0o I*ll be your lin" to your lost country. I*m ha((y to do it:" 0he did not doubt his goodness9 she than"ed ?> him9 nonetheless she added& her tone even3 "But (lease do understand that I don*t need you to be my lin" $ith anything at all. I*m ha((y $ith you& cut off from everything and everyone." -e res(onded ;ust as soberly3 "I understand $hat you*re saying. !nd don*t $orry that I e@(ect to involve myself in your old life there. The only one I*ll see of the (eo(le you used to "no$ $ill be your mother." 'hat could she say) That her mother is e@actly the (erson she doesn*t $ant him s(ending time $ith) -o$ could she tell him that this man $ho remembers his o$n dead mother $ith such love) "I admire your mother. 'hat vitality:" Irena has no doubt of that. +veryone admires her mother for her vitality. -o$ can she e@(lain to 6ustaf that $ithin the magic circle of maternal energy& Irena has never managed to rule over her o$n life) -o$ can she e@(lain that the constant (ro@imity of the mother $ould thro$ her bac"& into her $ea"nesses& her immaturity) 7h& this insane idea of 6ustaf s& $anting to connect $ith 4rague: 7nly $hen she $as alone& bac" in the house& did she calm do$n& telling herself3 "The (olice ?D barrier bet$een the 2ommunist countries and the 'est is (retty solid& than" 6od. I don*t have to $orry that 6ustaf *s contacts $ith 4rague could be any threat to me." 'hat) 'hat $as that she ;ust said to herself) "The (olice barrier is (retty solid& than" 6od)" =id she really say& "Than" 6od)" =id she an emigre everyone (ities for losing her homeland did she actually say& "Than" 6od)" H 6ustaf had come to "no$ Martin by chance& over a business negotiation. -e met Irena much later& $hen she $as already $ido$ed. They li"ed each other& but they $ere shy. 'hereu(on the husband hurried in from the beyond to hel( them along by being a ready sub;ect for conversation. 'hen 6ustaf learned from Irena that Martin had been born the same year he $as& he heard the colla(se of the $all that se(arated him from this muchEyounger $oman& and he felt a grateful affection for the dead man $hose age encouraged him to court the man*s beautiful $ife. 6ustaf $orshi((ed his deceased mother9 he tolerated B$ithout (leasureC t$o gro$n daughters9 he $as fleeing his $ife. -e $ould very much have li"ed to divorce if it could

be done amicably. 0ince that $as im(ossible& he did his best to stay a$ay from 0$eden. Li"e him& Irena had t$o daughters& $ho $ere also on the brin" of living on their o$n. 1or the elder one 6ustaf bought a studio a(artment& and he arranged to send the younger one to a boarding school in +ngland& so that Irena& living alone& could ta"e him in. 0he $as daAAled by his goodness& $hich everyone sa$ as the main trait& the most stri"ing& almost unbelievable trait of his character. -e charmed $omen by it9 they understood only too late that the goodness $as less a $ea(on of seduction than a $ea(on of defense. -is mother*s darling boy& he $as inca(able of living on his o$n $ithout $omen*s careta"ing. But he tolerated all the less $ell their demands& their arguments& their tears& and even their tooE(resent& tooEe@(ansive bodies. To "ee( them around and at the same time avoid them& he $ould lob great artillery shells of goodness at them. Under cover of the smo"e he $ould beat his retreat. In the face of his goodness& Irena $as at first unsettled& confused3 $hy $as he so "ind& so generous& so undemanding) -o$ could she re(ay him) The only recom(ense she could figure out $as to dis(lay her desire. 0he $ould set her $ideEeyed gaAe on him& a gaAe that demanded some immense& into@icating& nameless thing. -er desire9 the sad story of her desire. 0he had never "no$n se@ual (leasure before she met Martin. Then she bore a child& moved from 4rague to 1rance $ith a second daughter in her belly& and soon after that Martin $as dead. 0he $ent through some long& hard years then& forced to ta"e on any sort of $or" cleaning houses& caring for a rich (ara(legic and it $as a big trium(h ;ust to get the chance to do translations from #ussian to 1rench Bshe $as glad to have studied languages seriously in 4ragueC. The years rolled by& and on (osters& on billboards& on the covers of magaAines dis(layed on the ne$sstands& $omen stri((ed and cou(les "issed and men strutted in under(ants& $hile amid the universal orgy her o$n body roamed the streets neglected and invisible. 0o meeting 6ustaf had been a festival. !fter such a long time& her body& her face $ere finally being seen and a((reciated& and because they ?I $ere (leasing& a man had invited her to share life $ith him. It $as in the midst of that enchantment that her mother turned u( in 4aris. But at (erha(s that same time& or very slightly later& she began to harbor a vague sus(icion that her body had not entirely esca(ed the fate it $as a((arently destined for all along. That 6ustaf& $ho $as fleeing his $ife& his $omen& $as loo"ing to her not for an adventure& a ne$ youth& a freedom of the senses& but for a rest. Let*s not e@aggerate9 her body did not go untouched9 but her sus(icion gre$ that it $as being touched less than it deserved. I +uro(e*s 2ommunism burned out e@actly t$o hundred years after the 1rench #evolution too" fire. 1or Irena*s 4arisian friend 0ylvie& that $as a coincidence loaded $ith meaning. But $ith $hat meaning) 'hat name could be given to the trium(hal arch s(anning those t$o ma;estic dates) The !rch of the T$o 6reatest +uro(ean #evoluE ?J tions) 7r The !rch 2onnecting the 6reatest #evolution $ith the 1inal #estoration)*1or the sa"e of avoiding ideological argument& I (ro(ose that $e ado(t a more modest inter(retation3 the first date gave birth to a great +uro(ean character& the +migre Beither the 6reat Traitor or the 6reat Gictim& according to one*s outloo"C9 the second date too" the +migre off the set of The -istory of the +uro(eans9 $ith that& the great moviema"er of the collective unconscious finished off one of his most original (roductions& the emigrationEdream sho$. !nd it $as at this moment that Irena first returned to 4rague for a fe$ days.

'hen she set out it $as very cold& and then after she had been there three days& summer arrived suddenly& une@(ectedly& unseasonably. -er thic" suit became un$earable. -aving (ac"ed nothing for $armer $eather& she $ent to a sho( to buy a summer dress. The country $as not yet overflo$ing $ith merchandise from the 'est& and all she found $as the same fabrics& the same colors& the same styles she had "no$n during the 2ommunist (eriod. 0he tried on t$o or three dresses and $as uncomfortable. -ard to say $hy3 they $eren*t ugly& their cut $asn*t bad& but <K they reminded her of her distant (ast& the sartorial austerity of her youth9 they loo"ed naive& (rovincial& inelegant& fit for a country schoolteacher. But she $as in a hurry. 'hy& after all& shouldn*t she loo" li"e a country schoolteacher for a fe$ days) 0he bought the dress for a ridiculous (rice& "e(t it on& and $ith her $inter suit in the bag ste((ed out into the hot street. Then& $al"ing by a big de(artment store& she une@(ectedly (assed a $all covered $ith an enormous mirror and she $as stunned3 the (erson she sa$ $as not she& it $as somebody else or& $hen she loo"ed longer at herself in her ne$ dress& it $as she but she living a different life& the life she $ould have lived if she had stayed in 4rague. This $oman $as not disli"able& she $as even touching& but a little too touching& touching to the (oint of tears& (itiable& (oor& $ea"& do$ntrodden. 0he $as gri((ed by the same (anic she used to feel in her emigrationEdreams3 through the magical (o$er of a dress she could see herself im(risoned in a life she did not $ant and $ould never again be able to leave. !s if long ago& at the start of her adult life& she had had a choice among several (ossible lives and had ended u( choosing the <8 one that too" her to 1rance. !nd as if those other lives& re;ected and abandoned& $ere still lying in $ait for her and $ere ;ealously $atching for her from their lairs. 7ne of them had no$ snatched Irena and bound her into her ne$ dress as if into a strait;ac"et. 1rightened& she hurried home to 6ustaf*s a(artment Bhis com(any had bought a house in central 4rague and he "e(t a (iedEaEterre u( under the eavesC and changed her clothes. Bac" in her $inter suit no$& she loo"ed out the $indo$. The s"y $as cloudy& and the trees bent under the $ind. It had been hot for only a fe$ hours. ! fe$ hours of heat to (lay a nightmare tric" on her& to call u( the horror of the return. B'as it a dream) -er final emigrationEdream) .o& no& the $hole thing today had been real. 0till& she had the sense that the snares she "ne$ from those early dreams $ere not done $ith that they $ere still (resent& still at the ready& on the loo"out for her.C <? J =uring the t$enty years of 7dysseus* absence& the (eo(le of Ithaca retained many recollections of him but never felt nostalgia for him. 'hereas 7dysseus did suffer nostalgia& and remembered almost nothing. 'e can com(rehend this curious contradiction if $e realiAe that for memory to function $ell& it needs constant (ractice3 if recollections are not evo"ed again and again& in conversations $ith friends& they go. +migres gathered together in com(atriot colonies "ee( retelling to the (oint of nausea the same stories& $hich thereby become unforgettable. But (eo(le $ho do not s(end time $ith their com(atriots& li"e Irena or 7dysseus& are inevitably stric"en $ith amnesia. The stronger their nostalgia& the em(tier of recollections it becomes. The more 7dysseus languished& the more he forgot. 1or nostalgia does not heighten memory*s activity& it does not a$a"en recollections9 it suffices unto itself& unto its o$n feelings& so fully absorbed is it by its suffering and nothing else. <<

!fter "illing off the braAen fello$s $ho ho(ed to marry 4enelo(e and rule Ithaca& 7dysseus $as obliged to live $ith (eo(le he "ne$ nothing about. To flatter him they $ould go over and over everything they could recall about him before he left for the $ar. !nd because they believed that all he $as interested in $as his Ithaca Bho$ could they thin" other$ise& since he had ;ourneyed over the immensity of the seas to get bac" to the (lace)C& they nattered on about things that had ha((ened during his absence& eager to ans$er any 5uestion he might have. .othing bored him more. -e $as $aiting for ;ust one thing3 for them finally to say "Tell us:" !nd that is the one thing they never said. 1or t$enty years he had thought about nothing but his return. But once he $as bac"& he $as amaAed to realiAe that his life& the very essence of his life& its center& its treasure& lay outside Ithaca& in the t$enty years of his $anderings. !nd this treasure he had lost& and could retrieve only by telling about it. !fter leaving 2aly(so& during his return ;ourney& he $as shi($rec"ed in 4haeacia& $hose "ing $elcomed him to his court. There he $as a forE <> eigner& a mysterious stranger. ! stranger gets as"ed "'ho are you) 'here do you come from) Tell us:" and he had told. 1or four long boo"s of the 7dyssey he had retraced in detail his adventures before the daAAled 4haeacians. But in Ithaca he $as not a stranger& he $as one of their o$n& so it never occurred to anyone to say& "Tell us:" 8K 0he leafed through her old address boo"s& lingering over halfEforgotten names9 then she reserved a room at a restaurant. 7n a long table against the $all& alongside (latters of (etits fours& t$elve bottles stood in neat ro$s. In Bohemia (eo(le don*t drin" good $ine& and there is no custom of laying do$n vintage bottlings. 0he bought this old Bordeau@ $ith all the greater (leasure3 to sur(rise her guests& to ma"e a (arty for them& to regain their friendshi(. 0he came close to ruining it all. !$"$ardly her friends eye the bottles until one of them& full of confidence and (roud of her (lainEandEsim(le <D style& declares her (reference for beer. +mboldened ane$ by this outs(o"enness& the others go along and the beer lover calls the $aiter. Irena blames herself for having committed an act of (oor taste $ith her case of Bordeau@& for thoughtlessly underscoring everything that stands bet$een them3 her long absence from the country& her foreigner*s $ays& her $ealth. 0he blames herself the more because the gathering is so im(ortant for her3 she ho(es finally to figure out $hether she can live here& feel at home& have friends. 0o she determines not to let that bit of boorishness bother her& she is even $illing to see it as a (leasing directness9 after all& this beer her guests are so loyal to& isn*t beer the holy libation of sincerity) the (otion that dis(els all hy(ocrisy& any charade of fine manners) the drin" that does nothing $orse than incite its fans to urinate in all innocence& to gain $eight in all fran"ness) !nd in fact the $omen in the room are fullheartedly fat& they tal" incessantly& overflo$ $ith good advice& and sing the (raises of 6ustaf& $hose e@istence they all "no$ about. Mean$hile& the $aiter a((ears in the door$ay $ith ten halfEliter mugs of beer& five in each hand& <F a great athletic feat that (rovo"es a((lause and laughter. They all lift their mugs and toast3 "-ealth to Irena: -ealth to the daughter $ho*s returned:" Irena ta"es a small si( of beer& thin"ing3 !nd su((ose it $ere 6ustaf offering them the

$ine) 'ould they have turned it do$n) 2ertainly not. #e;ecting the $ine $as re;ecting her. -er as the (erson she is no$& coming bac" after so many years. !nd that $as e@actly her gamble3 that they*d acce(t her as the (erson she is no$& coming bac". 0he left here as a naive young $oman& and she has come bac" mature& $ith a life behind her& a difficult life that she*s (roud of. 0he means to do all she can to get them to acce(t her $ith her e@(eriences of the (ast t$enty years& $ith her convictions& her ideas9 it*ll be double or nothing3 either she succeeds in being among them as the (erson she has become& or else she $on*t stay. 0he arranged this gathering as the starting (oint in her cam(aign. They can drin" beer if they insist& that doesn*t faAe her9 $hat matters to her is choosing the to(ic of conversation herself and being heard. <H But time is (assing& the $omen are all tal"ing at once& and it is nearly im(ossible to have a conversation& much less to im(ose its sub;ect. 0he tries delicately to ta"e u( to(ics they raise and lead them to$ard $hat she $ants to tell them& but she fails3 as soon as her remar"s move a$ay from their o$n concerns& no one listens. The $aiter has already brought the second round of beer9 her first mug is still standing on the table $ith its foam colla(sed as if disgraced alongside the e@uberant foam of the fresh mug. Irena faults herself for having lost her taste for beer9 in 1rance she learned to savor a drin" by small mouthfuls& and is no longer used to bolting great 5uantities of li5uid as beerEloving re5uires. 0he raises the mug to her li(s and forces herself to ta"e t$o& three s$igs in a ro$. %ust then one $oman the oldest of them all& about si@ty gently (uts her hand to Irena*s li(s and $i(es a$ay the flec"s of foam left there. "=on*t force yourself&" she tells her. "0u((ose $e have a little $ine ourselves) It $ould be idiotic to (ass u( such a good $ine&" and she as"s the $aiter to o(en one of the bottles still standing untouched on the long table. 88 Milada had been a colleague of Martin*s& $or"ing at the same institute. Irena had recogniAed her $hen she first a((eared at the door of the room& but only no$& each of them $ith a $ine glass in hand& is she able to tal" to her. 0he loo"s at her3 Milada still has the same sha(e face BroundC& the same dar" hair& the same hairstyle Balso round& covering the ears and falling to belo$ the chinC. 0he a((ears not to have changed9 ho$ever& $hen she begins to s(ea"& her face is abru(tly transformed3 her s"in creases and creases again& her u((er li( sho$s fine vertical lines& $hile $rin"les on her chee"s and chin shift ra(idly $ith every e@(ression. Irena thin"s Milada certainly must not realiAe this3 (eo(le don*t tal" to themselves in front of a mirror9 she $ould see her o$n face only $hen it is at rest& $ith the s"in nearly smooth9 every mirror in the $orld $ould have her believe that she is still beautiful. !s she savors the $ine& Milada says Band instantly& on her lovely face& the $rin"les s(ring forth and start to danceC3 "It*s not easy& returning& is it)" "They can*t understand that $e left $ithout the slightest ho(e of coming bac". 'e did our best to dro( anchor $here $e $ere. =o you "no$ 0"acel)" "The (oet)" "There*s a stanAa $here he tal"s about his sadness9 he says he $ants to build a house out of it and loc" himself inside for three hundred years. Three hundred years. 'e all sa$ a threeEhundredEyearElong tunnel stretching ahead of us." "0ure& $e did too& here." "0o then $hy isn*t anyone $illing to ac"no$ledge that)" "Because (eo(le revise their feelings if the feelings $ere $rong. If history has dis(roved them." "!nd then& too3 everybody thin"s $e left to get ourselves an easy life. They don*t "no$

ho$ hard it is to carve out a little (lace for yourself in a foreign $orld. 2an you imagine leaving your country $ith a baby and $ith another one in your belly. Losing your husband. #aising your t$o daughters $ith no money ..." 0he falls silent& and Milada says3 "It ma"es no sense to tell them all that. +ven until ;ust lately& everybody $as arguing about $ho had the hardE est time under the old regime. +verybody $anted to be ac"no$ledged as a victim. But those sufferingEcontests are over no$. These days (eo(le brag about success& not about suffering. 0o if they*re (re(ared to res(ect you no$& it*s not for the hard life you*ve had& it*s because they see you*ve got yourself a rich man:" They*ve been tal"ing for a long time in a corner $hen the other $omen a((roach and collect around them. !s if to ma"e u( for not (aying enough attention to their hostess& they are garrulous Ba beer high ma"es (eo(le more noisy and goodEhumored than a $ine highC and affectionate. The $oman $ho earlier had demanded beer cries3 "I*ve really got to taste your $ine:" and she calls the $aiter& $ho o(ens more bottles and fills glasses. Irena is gri((ed by a sudden vision3 beer mugs in hand and laughing noisily& a bunch of $omen rush u( to her& she ma"es out 2Aech $ords& and understands& horrified& that she is not in 1rance& that she is in 4rague and she is doomed. 7h& yes it*s one of her old emigrationEdreams& and she 5uic"ly banishes the memory of it3 in fact the $omen around her aren*t drin"ing beer no$& they*re raising $ineglasses& and again they*re toasting the daughter*s return9 then one of them& beaming& says to her3 "/ou remember) I $rote you that it $as high time& high time you came bac":" 'ho is that $oman) The $hole evening she*s been tal"ing about her husband*s sic"ness& lingering e@citedly over all the morbid details. 1inally Irena recogniAes her3 the highEschool classmate $ho $rote her the very $ee" 2ommunism fell3 "7h& my dear& $e*re old already: It*s high time you came bac":" !gain& no$& she re(eats that line& and in her thic"ened face a broad grin reveals dentures. The other $omen assail her $ith 5uestions3 "Irena& remember $hen . . . )" !nd "/ou "no$ $hat ha((ened bac" then $ith . . . )" "7h& no& really& you must remember him:" "That guy $ith the big ears& you al$ays made fun of him:" ".o& you can*t (ossibly have forgotten him: /ou*re all he tal"s about:" Until that moment they have sho$n no interest in $hat she $as trying to tell them. 'hat is the meaning of this sudden onslaught) 'hat is it they $ant to find out& these $omen $ho $ouldn*t lisE >? ten to anything before) 0he soon sees that their 5uestions are of a (articular "ind3 5uestions to chec" $hether she "no$s $hat they "no$& $hether she remembers $hat they remember. This has a strange effect on her& one that $ill stay $ith her3 +arlier& by their total uninterest in her e@(erience abroad& they am(utated t$enty years from her life. .o$& $ith this interrogation& they are trying to stitch her old (ast onto her (resent life. !s if they $ere am(utating her forearm and attaching the hand directly to the elbo$9 as if they $ere am(utating her calves and ;oining her feet to her "nees. Transfi@ed by that image& she can give no ans$er to their 5uestions9 anyho$& the $omen are not e@(ecting one& and& drun"er and drun"er& they fall bac" into their chatter& $hich leaves Irena out. 0he $atches their mouths o(ening all at the same time& mouths moving and emitting $ords and constantly bursting into laughter Ba mystery3 ho$ is it that $omen not listening to one another can laugh at $hat the others are saying)C. .one of them is tal"ing to Irena anymore& but they*re all beaming $ith good humor& the $oman ><

$ho started off by ordering beer begins singing& the others do the same& and even $hen the (arty*s over& they go on singing out in the street. In bed Irena thin"s bac" over her (arty9 once again her old emigrationEdream comes bac" and she sees herself surrounded by $omen& noisy and hearty& raising their beer mugs. In the dream they $ere $or"ing for the secret (olice $ith orders to entra( her. But for. $hom $ere tonight*s $omen $or"ing) "It*s high time you came bac"&" said her old classmate $ith the macabre dentures. !s an emissary from the graveyards Bthe graveyards of the homelandC& her ;ob $as to call Irena bac" into line3 to $arn her that time is short and that life is su((osed to finish u( $here it started. Then her thoughts turn to Milada& $ho $as so maternally friendly9 she made it clear that nobody is interested anymore in Irena*s odyssey& and Irena realiAes that& actually& neither is Milada. But ho$ can she blame her) 'hy should Milada be interested in something that has no connection at all $ith her o$n life) It $ould be ;ust a (olite charade& and Irena is glad that Milada $as so "indly& $ith no charade. -er last thought before slee(ing is about 0ylvie. It*s already so long since she*s seen her: 0he misses her: Irena $ould love to ta"e her out to their 4aris bistro and tell her all about her recent tri( to Bohemia. 6et her to understand ho$ hard it is to return home. !ctually you $ere the first& she imagines telling her& the first (erson $ho used those $ords3 the 6reat #eturn. !nd you "no$ something& 0ylvie no$ I understand3 I could go bac" and live $ith them& but there*d be a condition3 I*d have to lay my $hole life $ith you& $ith all of you& $ith the 1rench& solemnly on the altar of the homeland and set fire to it. T$enty years of my life s(ent abroad $ould go u( in smo"e& in a sacrificial ceremony. !nd the $omen $ould sing and dance $ith me around the fire& $ith beer mugs raised high in their hands. That*s the (rice I*d have to (ay to be (ardoned. To be acce(ted. To become one of them again. 8? 7ne day at the 4aris air(ort& she moved through the (olice chec"(oint and sat do$n to $ait for the 4rague flight. 7n the facing bench she sa$ a man and& after a fe$ moments of uncertainty and surE (rise& she recogniAed him. In e@citement she $aited till their glances met& and then she smiled. -e smiled bac" and nodded slightly. 0he rose and crossed to him as he rose in turn. "=idn*t $e "no$ each other in 4rague)" she said in 2Aech. "=o you still remember me)" "7f course." "I recogniAed you right a$ay. /ou haven*t changed." "7h& that*s an e@aggeration." ".o& no. /ou loo" ;ust the same. 6ood Lord& it*s all so long ago." Then& laughing3 "I*m grateful to you for recogniAing me:" !nd then3 "/ou*ve stayed there all that time)" ".o." "/ou emigrated)" "/es." "!nd $here*ve you been living) In 1rance)" ".o." 0he sighed3 "!h& if you*d been living in 1rance and $e*re only running into each other no$ ..." "It*s (ure chance that I*m going through 4aris. I live in =enmar". 'hat about you)" "-ere. In 4aris. 6ood Lord. I can hardly believe my eyes. 'hat have you been doing all >F this time) -ave you been able to carry on $ith your $or")"

"/es. 'hat about you)" "I must have done about seven different things." "I $on*t as" you ho$ many men you*ve been $ith." ".o& don*t. !nd I (romise not to as" you that "ind of 5uestion either." "!nd no$) /ou*ve gone bac")" ".ot com(letely. I still have my a(artment in 4aris. 'hat about you)" ".either have I." "But you do return often." ".o. This is the first time&" he said. "7h& so late: /ou $ere in no big rush:" ".o." "/ou have no obligations in Bohemia)" "I*m a com(letely free man." -is tone $as even& and she noted some melancholy as $ell. !board the air(lane her seat $as for$ard on the aisle& and several times she turned to loo" bac" at him. 0he had never forgotten their longEago encounter. It $as in 4rague& she $as $ith a bunch of friends in a bar& and he& a friend of one of them& never too" his eyes off her. Their love story sto((ed before it could start. 0he still felt regret over it& a $ound that never healed. T$ice she $ent to lean against his seat and continue their conversation. 0he learned that he $ould be in Bohemia for only three or four days& and at that in a (rovincial city to see his family. 0he $as sad to hear it. 'ouldn*t he be in 4rague for even a day) 'ell& yes& actually& on his $ay bac" to =enmar"& maybe a day or t$o. 2ould she see him) It $ould be such a (leasure to get together again: -e gave her the name of his hotel in the (rovinces. 8< -e en;oyed the encounter& too9 she $as friendly& charming& and agreeable9 fortyE something and (retty9 and he hadn*t the faintest idea $ho she $as. It*s a$"$ard to tell someone you don*t remember her& but doubly a$"$ard in this case because maybe it $asn*t that he*d forgotten her >I but ;ust that she didn*t loo" the same. !nd to tell a $oman that is too boorish for him. Besides& he sa$ right a$ay that this un"no$n $oman $as not going to ma"e an issue of $hether or not he remembered her& and that it $as the easiest thing in the $orld to chat $ith her. But $hen they agreed to meet again and she offered to give him her tele(hone number& he $as flustered3 ho$ could he (hone a (erson $hose name he didn*t "no$) 'ithout e@(laining& he said he $ould rather she call him& and as"ed her to ta"e do$n the number at his (rovincial hotel. !t the 4rague air(ort they se(arated. -e rented a car& too" the e@(ress$ay and then a local high$ay. 'hen he reached the city& he loo"ed for the cemetery. But in vain. -e found himself in a ne$ neighborhood of tall identical buildings that thre$ him off. -e s(otted a boy of about ten& sto((ed the car& as"ed the $ay to the cemetery. The boy stared at him $ithout ans$ering. Thin"ing he had not understood& %osef articulated his 5uestion more slo$ly& louder& li"e a foreigner trying to enunciate clearly. The boy finally ans$ered that he didn*t "no$. But ho$ in hell can a (erson not "no$ $here the cemetery is& the only cemeE >J tery in to$n) %osef shifted gears& set off again& as"ed some other (eo(le& but their directions seemed barely intelligible. +ventually he found it3 cram(ed behind a ne$ly built viaduct& it seemed unim(osing& and much smaller than it used to be.

-e (ar"ed the car and $al"ed do$n a lane of linden trees to the grave. -ere& some thirty years earlier& he had $atched the lo$ering of the coffin that held his mother. -e had often come here after$ard& on every visit to his hometo$n before his de(arture abroad. 'hen& a month ago& he $as (lanning this tri( bac" to Bohemia& he already "ne$ he $ould begin it here. -e loo"ed at the tombstone9 the marble $as covered $ith many names3 a((arently the grave had mean$hile become a large dormitory. Bet$een the lane and the tombstone there $as only la$n& neatly "e(t& $ith a flo$erbed9 he tried to imagine the coffins underneath3 they must lie ;ammed one against the ne@t& in ro$s of three& (iled several layers dee(. Mama $as $ay do$n at the bottom. 'here $as the father) -e had died fifteen years later9 he $ould be se(arated from her by at least one layer of coffins. -e envisioned Mama*s burial again. !t the DK time there $ere only t$o bodies in the grave3 his father*s (arents. -e*d found it (erfectly natural bac" then that his mother should be $ith her husband*s family9 he*d never even $ondered if she might not have (referred to ;oin her o$n (arents. 7nly later did he understand3 regrou(ings in family vaults are determined $ell in advance by (o$er relationshi(s9 his father*s family $as more influential than his mother*s. The number of ne$ names on the stone troubled him. ! fe$ years after he left the country& he got $ord of his uncle*s death& then of his aunt*s& then eventually of his father*s. .o$ he began reading the names closely9 some $ere of (eo(le he had thought still living9 he $as stunned. It $as not their deaths that unsettled him Banyone $ho decides to leave his country forever has to resign himself never to see his family againC& but the fact that he had not been sent any announcement. The 2ommunist (olice "e(t $atch on letters addressed to emigres9 had (eo(le been afraid to $rite him) -e e@amined the dates3 the t$o most recent $ere after 8JIJ. 0o it $as not out of caution that they didn*t $rite. The truth $as $orse3 he no longer e@isted for them. D8 8> The hotel dated from the last years of 2ommunism3 a slee" modern building of the sort built all over the $orld& on the main s5uare& very tall& to$ering by many stories over the city*s roofto(s. -e settled into his seventhEfloor room and then $ent to the $indo$. It $as seven in the evening& dus" $as falling& the streetlights $ent on& and the s5uare $as amaAingly 5uiet. Before leaving =enmar" he had considered the coming encounter $ith (laces he had "no$n& $ith his (ast life& and had $ondered3 $ould he be moved) cold) delighted) de(ressed) .othing of the sort. =uring his absence& an invisible broom had s$e(t across the landsca(e of his childhood& $i(ing a$ay everything familiar9 the encounter he had e@(ected never too" (lace. ! long time ago Irena had visited a to$n in the 1rench (rovinces& see"ing out a little res(ite for her husband& $ho $as already very ill. It $as a 0unday9 the to$n $as 5uiet9 they sto((ed on a bridge and stared at the $ater flo$ing (eacefully bet$een the greenish ban"s. !t the (oint $here the river formed an elbo$& an old villa surrounded by a garden loo"ed to them li"e the image of a comforting home& the dream of an idyll long (ast. 2aught u( by the beauty& they too" a stair$ay do$n onto the emban"ment& ho(ing for a stroll. !fter a fe$ ste(s they sa$ that they*d been fooled by the 0unday (eacefulness9 the $ay $as barricaded9 they came u( against an abandoned construction site3 machines& tractors& mounds of earth and sand9 on the far side of the river& trees lay felled9 and the villa $hose beauty had dra$n them $hen they sa$ it from above no$ revealed bro"en $indo$(anes and a huge hole in (lace of a front door9 behind the house ;utted a building (ro;ect ten

stories high9 yet the citysca(e*s beauty that had struc" them $ith $onder $as not an o(tical illusion9 tram(led& humiliated& moc"ed& it still sho$ed through its o$n ruin. Irena loo"ed again at the far ban" and she sa$ that the great felled trees $ere in flo$er: 1elled and laid out flat& they $ere alive: %ust then music suddenly e@(loded from a louds(ea"er& fortissimo. !t that bludgeoning Irena cla((ed her hands over her ears and burst into sobs. 0obs for the $orld that $as vanishing before her eyes. -er husband& $ho $as to die in a fe$ months& too" her by the hand and led her a$ay. The gigantic invisible broom that transforms& disfigures& erases landsca(es has been at the ;ob for millennia no$& but its movements& $hich used to be slo$& ;ust barely (erce(tible& have s(ed u( so much that I $onder3 'ould an 7dyssey even be conceivable today) Is the e(ic of the return still (ertinent to our time) 'hen 7dysseus $o"e on Ithaca*s shore that morning& could he have listened in ecstasy to the music of the 6reat #eturn if the old olive tree had been felled and he recogniAed nothing around him) .ear the hotel a tall building e@(osed its bare side& a blind $all decorated $ith a gigantic (icture. In the t$ilight the ca(tion $as unreadable& and all %osef could ma"e out $as t$o hands clas(ing& enormous hands& bet$een s"y and earth. -ad they al$ays been there) -e couldn*t recall. -e $as dining alone at the hotel restaurant and all around him he heard the sound of conversations. It $as the music of some un"no$n language. 'hat had ha((ened to 2Aech during those t$o sorry decades) 'as it the stresses that had D> changed) !((arently. -itherto set firmly on the first syllable& they had gro$n $ea"er9 the intonation seemed boneless. The melody sounded more monotone than before dra$ling. !nd the timbre: It had turned nasal& $hich gave the s(eech an un(leasantly blase 5uality. 7ver the centuries the music of any language (robably does change im(erce(tibly& but to a (erson returning after an absence it can be disconcerting3 bent over his (late& %osef $as listening to an un"no$n language $hose every $ord he understood. Then& in his room& he (ic"ed u( the tele(hone and dialed his brother*s number. -e heard a ;oyful voice inviting him to come over right a$ay. "I ;ust $anted to tell you I*m here&" said %osef. "=o e@cuse me for today& though. I don*t $ant you to see me li"e this after all these years. I*m "noc"ed out. !re you free tomorro$)" -e $asn*t even sure his brother still $or"ed at the hos(ital. "I*ll get free&" $as the ans$er. DD 8D -e rings& and his brother& five years older than he& o(ens the door. They gri( hands and gaAe at each other. These are gaAes of enormous intensity& and both men "no$ very $ell $hat is going on3 they are registering s$iftly& discreetly& brother about brother the hair& the $rin"les& the teeth9 each "no$s $hat he is loo"ing for in the face before him& and each "no$s that the other is loo"ing for the same thing in his. They are ashamed of doing so& because $hat they*re loo"ing for is the (robable distance bet$een the other man and death or& to say it more bluntly& each is loo"ing in the other man*s face for death beginning to sho$ through. To (ut a 5uic" end to that morbid scrutiny& they cast about for some (hrase to ma"e them forget those fe$ grievous seconds& some e@clamation or 5uestion& or if (ossible Bit $ould be a gift from heavenC a ;o"e Bbut nothing comes to their rescueC. "2ome&" the brother finally says and& ta"ing %osef by the shoulders& leads him into the

living room. DF 8F "'e*ve been e@(ecting you ever since the thing colla(sed&" the brother said $hen they sat do$n. "!ll the emigres have already come home& or at least (ut in an a((earance. .o& no& that*s not a re(roach. /ou "no$ best $hat*s right for you." "There you*re $rong&" said %osef $ith a laugh. "I don*t "no$ that." "=id you come alone)" the brother as"ed. "/es." "!re you thin"ing of moving bac" for good)" "I don*t "no$." "7f course you*d have to ta"e your $ife*s feelings into consideration. /ou got married over there& I believe." "/es." "To a =anish $oman&" said his brother& hesitantly. "/es&" %osef said& and did not go on. The silence made the brother uncomfortable& and ;ust to say something& %osef as"ed& "The house belongs to you no$)" In the old days the a(artment had been (art of DH a threeEstory income (ro(erty belonging to their father9 the family Bfather& mother& t$o sonsC lived on the to( floor and the other t$o $ere rented out. !fter the 2ommunist revolution of 8J>I the house $as e@(ro(riated& and the family stayed on as tenant. "/es&" ans$ered the brother& visibly embarrassed. "'e tried to get in touch $ith you& but $e couldn*t." "'hy $as that) /ou do "no$ my address:" !fter 8JIJ all (ro(erties nationaliAed by the revolution Bfactories& hotels& rental a(artments& land& forestsC $ere returned to their former o$ners Bor more (recisely& to their children or grandchildrenC9 the (rocedure $as called "restitution"3 it re5uired only that a (erson declare himself o$ner to the legal authorities& and after a year during $hich his claim might be contested& the restitution became irrevocable. That ;udicial sim(lification allo$ed for a good deal of fraud& but it did avoid inheritance dis(utes& la$suits& a((eals& and thus brought about& in an astonishingly short time& the rebirth of a class society $ith a bourgeoisie that $as rich& entre(reneurial& and (ositioned to set the national economy going. DI "There $as a la$yer handling it&" ans$ered the brother& still embarrassed. ".o$ it*s already too late. The (roceedings are closed no$. But don*t $orry& $e*ll $or" things out bet$een us and $ith no la$yers involved." %ust then the sisterEinEla$ came in. This time that collision of gaAes never even occurred3 she had aged so much that the $hole story $as clear from the moment she a((eared in the door$ay. %osef $anted to dro( his eyes and only loo" at her later& secretly& so as not to u(set her. 0tric"en $ith (ity& he stood u(& $ent to her& and embraced her. They sat do$n again. Unable to sha"e free of his emotion& %osef loo"ed at her9 if he had met her in the street& he $ould not have recogniAed her. These are the (eo(le $ho are closest to me in the $orld& he told himself& my family& all the family I have& my brother& my only brother. -e re(eated these $ords to himself as if to ma"e the most of his emotion before it should dissi(ate. That $ave of tenderness caused him to say3 "1orget the house business com(letely. Listen& really& let*s be (ragmatic o$ning something here is not my (roblem. My (roblems aren*t here."

DJ #elieved& the brother re(eated3 ".o& no. I li"e e5uity in everything. Besides& your $ife should have her say on the sub;ect." "Let*s tal" about something else&" %osef said as he laid his hand on his brother*s and s5ueeAed it. 8H They too" him through the a(artment to sho$ him the changes since he had left. In one room he sa$ a (ainting that had belonged to him. 'hen he*d decided to leave the country& he had to act 5uic"ly. -e $as living in another to$n at the time& and since he needed to "ee( secret his intention to emigrate& he could not give himself a$ay by doling out his (ossessions to friends. The night before he left& he had (ut his "eys in an envelo(e and mailed them to his brother. Then he*d (honed him from abroad and as"ed him to ta"e anything he li"ed from the a(artment before the state confiscated it. Later on& living in =enmar" and ha((y to be starting a ne$ life& he hadn*t the slightest desire to find out FK $hat his brother had managed to salvage and $hat he had done $ith it. -e gaAed for a long $hile at the (icture3 a $or"ingEclass suburb& (oor& rendered in that bold $elter of colors that recalled the 1auve artists from the turn of the century& =erain for e@am(le. !nd yet the (ainting $as no (astiche9 if it had been sho$n in 8JKD at the 0alon d*!utomne together $ith $or"s by the 1auves& vie$ers $ould have been struc" by its strangeness& intrigued by the enigmatic (erfume of an alluring visitor come from some fara$ay (lace. In fact the (icture $as (ainted in 8JDD& a (eriod $hen doctrine on socialist art $as strict in its demand for realism3 this artist& $ho $as a (assionate modernist& $ould have (referred to (aint the $ay (eo(le $ere (ainting all over the $orld at the time& $hich is to say in the abstract manner& but he also $anted his $or" to be e@hibited9 therefore he had to locate the magic (oint $here the ideologues* im(eratives intersected $ith his o$n desires as an artist9 the shac"s evo"ing $or"ers* lives $ere a bo$ to the ideologues& and the violently unrealistic colors $ere his gift to himself. %osef had visited the man*s studio in the 8JFKs& F8 $hen the official doctrine $as losing some of its force and the (ainter $as already free to do (retty much $hatever he $anted. In his naive sincerity %osef had li"ed this early (icture better than the recent ones& and the (ainter& $ho loo"ed on his o$n (roletarian 1auvism $ith a slightly condescending affection& had cheerfully made him a gift of it9 he*d even (ic"ed u( his brush and& alongside his signature& $ritten a dedication $ith %osef*s name. "/ou "ne$ this (ainter $ell&" remar"ed the brother. "/es. I saved his (oodle*s life for him." "!re you (lanning to go see him)" ".o." 0hortly after 8JIJ a (ac"age had arrived at %osef*s house in =enmar"3 (hotogra(hs of the (ainter*s latest canvas es& created no$ in com(lete freedom. They $ere indistinguishable from the millions of other (ictures being (ainted around the (lanet at the time9 the (ainter could boast of a double victory3 he $as utterly free and utterly li"e everybody else. "/ou still li"e this (icture)" as"ed the brother. "/es& it*s still very fine." The brother tilted his head to$ard his $ife3 "Katy loves it. 0he sto(s to loo" at it every day." Then he added3 "!fter you left& you told me to give it to 4a(a. -e hung it over the

table in his office at the hos(ital. -e "ne$ ho$ much Katy loved it& and before he died he be5ueathed it to her." !fter a little (ause3 "/ou can*t imagine. 'e lived through some dreadful years." Loo"ing at the sisterEinEla$& %osef remembered that he had never li"ed her. -is old anti(athy Bshe*d returned it in s(adesC no$ seemed to him stu(id and regrettable. 0he stood there staring at the (icture $ith an e@(ression of sad im(otence on her face& and in (ity %osef said to his brother3 "I "no$." The brother began an account of the family*s story3 the father*s lingering death& Katy*s illness& their daughter*s failed marriage& then on to the cabals against him at the hos(ital& $here his (osition had been gravely com(romised by the fact of %osef*s emigrating. There $as no tone of re(roach to that last remar"& but %osef had no doubt of the animosity $ith $hich the brother and sisterEinEla$ must have discussed him at the time& indignant at the (altry reasons %osef might have alleged to ;ustify his emigration& $hich they certainly considered irres(onsible3 the regime did not ma"e life easy for the relatives of emigres. 8I In the dining room the table $as set for lunch. The conversation turned lively& $ith the brother and sisterEinEla$ eager to inform him of everything that had ha((ened during his absence. The decades hovered above the dishes& and his sisterEinEla$ suddenly attac"ed him3 "/ou had some fanatical years yourself. The $ay you used to tal" about the 2hurch: 'e $ere all scared of you." The remar" startled him. "0cared of me)" -is sisterEinEla$ held her ground. -e loo"ed at her3 on her face& $hich only minutes earlier had seemed unrecogniAable& her old features $ere coming out. To say that they*d been scared of him $as nonsense& actually& since the sisterEinEla$*s recollection could only concern his highEschool years& F> $hen he $as bet$een si@teen and nineteen years old. It is entirely (ossible that he used to ma"e fun of believers bac" then& but his taunts couldn*t have been anything li"e the government*s militant atheism and $ere meant only for his family& $ho never missed 0unday Mass and thereby incited %osef to be (rovocative. -e had graduated in 8JD8& three years after the revolution& and $hen he decided to study veterinary medicine it $as that same taste for (rovocation that ins(ired him3 healing sic" (eo(le& serving humanity& $as his family*s great (ride Balready t$o generations bac"& his grandfather had been a doctorC& and he en;oyed telling them all that he li"ed co$s better than humans. But nobody had either (raised or de(lored his rebellion9 because veterinary medicine carried less social (restige& his choice $as inter(reted sim(ly as a lac" of ambition& an acce(tance of second ran" $ithin the family& belo$ his brother. .o$ at the table he made a garbled effort to e@(lain Bto them and to himself bothC his (sychology as an adolescent& but the $ords had trouble getting out of his mouth because the sisterEinEla$*s set smile& fastened on him& FD e@(ressed an immutable disagreement $ith everything he $as saying. -e understood that there $as nothing he could do about it9 it $as (ractically a la$3 4eo(le $ho see their lives as a shi($rec" set out to hunt do$n the guilty (arties. !nd %osef $as doubly guilty3 both as an adolescent $ho had s(o"en ill of 6od and as an adult $ho had emigrated. -e lost the desire to e@(lain anything at all& and his brother& subtle di(lomat that he $as& changed the sub;ect. -is brother3 as a secondEyear medical student& he had been barred from the university in 8J>I because of his bourgeois bac"ground9 so as not to lose ho(e of resuming his

studies later on and becoming a surgeon li"e his father& he had done all he could to demonstrate his su((ort for 2ommunism& to the (oint $here one day& sore at heart& he $ound u( ;oining the 4arty& in $hich he stayed until 8JIJ. The (aths of the t$o brothers diverged3 first e;ected from school and then forced to deny his convictions& the elder felt himself a victim Bhe $ould feel that $ay foreverC9 at the veterinary school& $hich $as less coveted and less tightly monitored& the younger brother had no need to dis(lay any (articular loyalty to the FF regime3 to his brother he seemed Band forever $ould seemC a luc"y little bastard $ho "ne$ ho$ to get a$ay $ith things9 a deserter. In !ugust 8JFI the #ussian army had invaded the country9 for a $ee" the streets in all the cities ho$led $ith rage. The country had never been so thoroughly a homeland& or the 2Aechs so 2Aech. =run" $ith hatred& %osef $as ready to hurl himself against the tan"s. Then the country*s statesmen $ere arrested& shi((ed under guard to Mosco$& and forced to conclude a sla(dash com(romise& and the 2Aechs& still enraged& $ent bac" indoors. 0ome fourteen months later& on the fiftyEsecond anniversary of #ussia*s 7ctober #evolution& im(osed on the country as a national holiday& %osef had climbed into his car in the to$n $here he had his animal clinic and set off to see his family at the other end of the country. !rriving in their city& he slo$ed do$n9 he $as curious to see ho$ many $indo$s $ould be dra(ed $ith red flags $hich& in that year of defeat& $ere nothing else but signals of submission. There $ere more of them than he e@(ected3 (erha(s the (eo(le dis(laying them $ere doing so against their actual convictions& out of (rudence& $ith some FH vague fear9 still& they $ere acting voluntarily& no one $as forcing them& no one $as threatening them. -e had (ulled u( in front of his family home. 7n the to( floor& $here his brother lived& there blaAed a large flag& hideously red. 1or a very long moment %osef contem(lated it from inside his car9 then he turned on the ignition. 7n the tri( home he decided to leave the country. .ot that he couldn*t have lived here. -e could have gone on (eacefully treating co$s here. But he $as alone& divorced& childless& free. -e reflected that he had only one life and that he $anted to live it some$here else. 8J !t the end of lunch& sitting over his coffee& %osef thought about his (ainting. -e considered ho$ to ta"e it a$ay $ith him& and $hether it $ould be too un$ieldy in the air(lane. 'ouldn*t it be easier to ta"e the canvas out of the frame and roll it u() -e $as about to discuss it $hen the sisterEinEla$ said3 "/ou must be going to see .." FI "I don*t "no$ yet." "-e $as an a$fully good friend of yours." "-e still is my friend." "In fortyEeight everyone $as terrified of him. The #ed 2ommissar: But he did a lot for you& didn*t he) /ou o$e him:" The brother hastily interru(ted his $ife& and he handed %osef a small bundle3 "This is $hat 4a(a "e(t as a souvenir of you. 'e found it after he died." The brother a((arently had to leave soon for the hos(ital9 their meeting $as dra$ing to a close& and %osef noted that his (ainting had vanished from the conversation. 'hat) -is sisterEinEla$ remembers his friend ..& but she forgets his (ainting) 0till& although he $as (re(ared to give u( his $hole inheritance& and his share of the house& the (icture $as his& his alone& $ith his name inscribed alongside the (ainter*s: -o$ could they& she and his brother& act as if it didn*t belong to him) The atmos(here suddenly gre$ heavy& and the brother started to tell a funny story.

%osef $as not listening. -e $as determined to reclaim his (icture& and& intent on $hat he $anted to say& his FJ distracted glance fell on the brother*s $rist and the $atch on it. -e recogniAed it3 big and blac"& a little out of style9 he had left it behind in his a(artment and the brother had a((ro(riated it for himself. .o& %osef had no reason to be incensed at that. It had all been done according to his o$n instructions9 still& seeing his $atch on someone else*s $rist thre$ him into a strange unease. -e had the sense he $as coming bac" into the $orld as might a dead man emerging from his tomb after t$enty years3 touching the ground $ith a timid foot that*s lost the habit of $al"ing9 barely recogniAing the $orld he had lived in but continually stumbling over the leavings from his life9 seeing his trousers& his tie on the bodies of the survivors& $ho had 5uite naturally divided them u( among themselves9 seeing everything and laying claim to nothing3 the dead are timid. 7vercome by that timidity of the dead& %osef could not summon the strength to say a single $ord about his (ainting. -e stood u(. "2ome bac" tonight. 'e*ll have dinner together&" said the brother. %osef suddenly sa$ his o$n $ife*s face9 he felt a shar( need to address her& tal" $ith her. But he HK could not do that3 his brother $as loo"ing at him& $aiting for his ans$er. "4lease e@cuse me& I have so little time. .e@t visit&" and he gave them each a $arm handsha"e. 7n the $ay bac" to the hotel& his $ife*s face a((eared to him again and he ble$ u(3 "It*s your fault. /ou*re the one $ho told me I had to go. I didn*t $ant to. I had no desire for this return. But you disagreed. /ou said that not going $as unnatural& un;ustifiable& it $as even foul. =o you still thin" you $ere right)" ?K Bac" in his hotel room& he o(ens the bundle his brother gave him3 an album of (hotogra(hs from his childhood& of his mother& his father& his brother& and& many times over& little %osef9 he sets it aside to "ee(. ! cou(le of children*s (icture boo"s9 he tosses them into the $astebas"et. ! child*s dra$ing in colored (encil& $ith the inscri(tion "1or Mama on her birthday" and his clumsy signature9 he tosses that a$ay. Then a noteboo". H8 -e o(ens it3 his highEschool diary. -o$ did he ever leave that at his (arents* house) The entries dated from the early years of 2ommunism here& but& his curiosity some$hat foiled& he finds only accounts of his dates $ith girls from high school. ! (recocious libertine) .o indeed3 a virgin boy. -e leafs through the (ages absently& then sto(s at these rebu"es addressed to one girl3 "/ou told me love $as only about bodies. =ear girl& you $ould run off in a minute if a man told you he $as only interested in your body. !nd you $ould come to understand the dreadful sensation of loneliness." "Loneliness." The $ord "ee(s turning u( in these (ages. -e $ould try to scare them by describing the fearsome (ros(ect of loneliness. To ma"e them love him& he $ould (reach at them li"e a (arson that unless there*s emotion& se@ stretches a$ay li"e a desert $here a (erson can die of sadness. -e goes on reading& and remembers nothing. 0o $hat has this stranger come to tell him) To remind him that he used to live here under %osef*s name) %osef gets u( and goes to the $indo$. The s5uare is lit by the lateEafternoon sun& and the H? image of the t$o hands on the big $all is shar(ly visible no$3 one is $hite& the other blac". !bove them a threeEletter acronym (romises "security" and "solidarity." .o doubt

about it& the mural $as (ainted after 8JIJ& $hen the country too" u( the slogans of the ne$ age3 brotherhood of all races9 mingling of all cultures9 unity of everything& of everybody. -ands clas(ing on billboards& %osef*s seen that before: The 2Aech $or"er clas(ing the hand of the #ussian soldier: It may have been detested& but that (ro(aganda image $as indis(utably (art of the history of the 2Aechs& $ho had a thousand reasons to clas( or to refuse the hands of #ussians or 6ermans: But a blac" hand) In this country& (eo(le hardly "ne$ that blac"s even e@isted. In her $hole life his mother had never run into a single one. -e considers those hands sus(ended there bet$een heaven and earth& enormous& taller than the church belfry& hands that shifted the (lace into a harshly different setting. -e scrutiniAes the s5uare belo$ him as if he $ere searching for traces he left on the (avement as a young man $hen he used to stroll it $ith his schoolmates. H< "0choolmates"9 he articulates the $ord slo$ly& in an undertone& so as to breathe in the aroma Bfaint: barely (erce(tible:C of his early youth& that bygone& remote (eriod& a (eriod forsa"en and mournful as an or(hanage9 but unli"e Irena in the 1rench country to$n& he feels no affection for that dimly visible& feeble (ast9 no desire to return9 nothing but a slight reserve9 detachment. If I $ere a doctor& I $ould diagnose his condition thus3 "The (atient is suffering from nostalgic insufficiency." ?8 But %osef does not feel sic". -e feels clearheaded. To his mind the nostalgic insufficiency (roves the (altry value of his former life. 0o I revise my diagnosis3 "The (atient is suffering from masochistic distortion of memory." Indeed& all he remembers are situations that ma"e him dis(leased $ith himself. -e is not fond of his childhood. But as a child& didn*t he have everything he $anted) 'asn*t his father $orshi((ed by all his H> (atients) 'hy $as that a source of (ride for his brother and not for him) -e often fought $ith his little (als& and he fought bravely. .o$ he*s forgotten all his victories& but he $ill al$ays remember the time a fello$ he considered $ea"er than himself "noc"ed him do$n and (inned him to the ground for a loud count of ten. +ven no$ he can feel on his s"in that humiliating (ressure of the turf. 'hen he $as still living in Bohemia and $ould run into (eo(le $ho had "no$n him earlier& he $as al$ays sur(rised to find that they considered him a fairly courageous (erson Bhe thought himself co$ardlyC& $ith a caustic $it Bhe considered himself a boreC and a "ind heart Bhe remembered only his stinginessC. -e "ne$ very $ell that his memory detested him& that it did nothing but slander him9 therefore he tried not to believe it and to be more lenient to$ard his o$n life. But that didn*t hel(3 he too" no (leasure in loo"ing bac"& and he did it as seldom as (ossible. 'hat he $ould have other (eo(le& and himself& believe is that he left his country because he could not bear to see it enslaved and humiliated. That*s true9 still& most 2Aechs felt the same $ay& enslaved HD and humiliated& and yet they did not run off abroad. They stayed in their country because they li"ed themselves and because they li"ed themselves together $ith their lives& $hich $ere inse(arable from the (lace $here the lives had been lived. Because %osef*s memory $as malevolent and (rovided him nothing to ma"e him cherish his life in his country& he crossed the border $ith a bris" ste( and $ith no regrets.

!nd once he $as abroad& did his memory lose its no@ious influence) /es9 because there %osef had neither reason nor occasion to concern himself $ith recollections bound to the country he no longer lived in9 such is the la$ of masochistic memory3 as segments of their lives melt into oblivion& men slough off $hatever they disli"e& and feel lighter& freer. !nd above all& abroad %osef fell in love& and love is the glorification of the (resent. -is attachment to the (resent drove off his recollections& shielded him against their intrusion9 his memory did not become less malevolent but& disregarded and "e(t at a distance& it lost its (o$er over him. HF ?? The more vast the amount of time $e*ve left behind us& the more irresistible is the voice calling us to return to it. This (ronouncement seems to state the obvious& and yet it is false. Men gro$ old& the end dra$s near& each moment becomes more and more valuable& and there is no time to $aste over recollections. It is im(ortant to understand the mathematical (arado@ in nostalgia3 that it is most (o$erful in early youth& $hen the volume of the life gone by is 5uite small. 7ut of the mists of the time $hen %osef $as in high school& I see a young girl emerge9 she is longElimbed& beautiful9 she is a virgin9 and she is melancholy because she has ;ust bro"en off $ith a boy. It is her first romantic se(aration and it hurts her& but her (ain is less strong than her amaAement at discovering time9 she sees it as she never sa$ it before3 Until then her vie$ of time $as the (resent moving for$ard and devouring the future9 she either feared its s$iftness B$hen she $as a$aiting something difficultC or rebelled at its slo$ness HH B$hen she $as a$aiting something fineC. .o$ time has a very different loo"9 it is no longer the con5uering (resent ca(turing the future9 it is the (resent con5uered and ca(tured and carried off by the (ast. 0he sees a young man disconnecting himself from her life and going a$ay& forevermore out of her reach. MesmeriAed& all she can do is $atch this (iece of her life move off9 all she can do is $atch it and suffer. 0he is e@(eriencing a brandEne$ feeling called nostalgia. That feeling& that irre(ressible yearning to return& suddenly reveals to her the e@istence of the (ast& the (o$er of the (ast& of her (ast9 in the house of her life there are $indo$s no$& $indo$s o(ening to the rear& onto $hat she has e@(erienced9 from no$ on her e@istence $ill be inconceivable $ithout these $indo$s. 7ne day& $ith her ne$ boyfriend B(latonic& of courseC& she turns do$n a (ath in the forest near the to$n9 it is the same (ath she had $al"ed a fe$ months earlier $ith her (revious boyfriend Bthe one $ho& after their brea"& caused her to feel nostalgia for the first timeC& and she is moved by the coincidence. =eliberately she heads for a dila(idated little cha(el at a crossing of the forest (aths& HI because that $as $here her first boyfriend tried to "iss her. Irresistible tem(tation dra$s her to relive the bygone love. 0he $ants the t$o love stories to come together& to ;oin& to mingle& to mimic each other so that both $ill gro$ greater through their fusion. 'hen the earlier boyfriend had tried to sto( at that s(ot and clas( her to him& ha((y and abashed she 5uic"ened her (ace and (revented it. This time& $hat $ill ha((en) -er current boyfriend slo$s do$n too& he too (re(ares to ta"e her in his arms: =aAAled by this re(etition Bby the miracle of this re(etitionC& she obeys the im(erative of the (arallel and hurries ahead& (ulling him along by the hand. 1rom then on she succumbs to the charm of these affinities& these furtive contacts

bet$een (resent and (ast9 she see"s out these echoes& these coEres(ondences& these coEresonances that ma"e her feel the distance bet$een $hat $as and $hat is& the tem(oral dimension Bso ne$& so astonishingC of her life9 she has the sense of emerging from adolescence because of it& of becoming mature& adult& $hich for her means becoming a (erson $ho is ac5uainted $ith time& $ho has left a fragE ment of life behind her and can turn to loo" bac" at it. 7ne day she sees her ne$ boyfriend hurrying to$ard her in a blue ;ac"et& and she remembers that her first boyfriend also loo"ed good in a blue ;ac"et. !nother day& gaAing into her eyes& he (raises their beauty by $ay of a highly unusual meta(hor9 she $as fascinated by that because her first boyfriend& commenting on her eyes& had used $ord for $ord the same unusual (hrase. These coincidences amaAe her. .ever does she feel so thoroughly suffused $ith beauty as $hen the nostalgia for her (ast love blends $ith the sur(rises of her ne$ love. The intrusion of the (revious boyfriend into the story she is currently living is to her mind not some secret infidelity9 it adds further to her fondness for the man $al"ing beside her no$. 'hen she is older she $ill see in these resemblances a regrettable uniformity among individuals Bthey all sto( at the same s(ots to "iss& have the same tastes in clothing& flatter a $oman $ith the same meta(horC and a tedious monotony among events Bthey are all ;ust an endless re(etition of the same oneC9 but in her adolesE IK cence she $elcomes these coincidences as miraculous and she is avid to deci(her their meanings. The fact that today*s boyfriend bears a strange resemblance to yesterday*s ma"es him even more e@ce(tional& even more original& and she believes that he is mysteriously (redestined for her. ?< .o& there is no allusion to (olitics in the diary. .ot a trace of the (eriod& e@ce(t (erha(s the (uriEtanism of those early years of 2ommunism& $ith the ideal of romantic love as bac"dro(. %osef is struc" by a confession from the virgin boy3 that he easily mustered the boldness to stro"e a girl*s breasts but he had to battle his o$n modesty to touch her rum(. -e had a good sense for e@actness3 "'hen $e $ere together yesterday& I only dared to touch =.*s rum( t$ice." Intimidated by the rum(& he $as all the more avid for emotions3 "0he s$ears she loves me& her (romise of intercourse is a victory for me . . ." I8 Ba((arently& intercourse as (roof of love counted more for him than the (hysical act itselfC "... but I feel let do$n3 there is no ecstasy in our encounters. It terrifies me to imagine our life together." !nd farther along3 "It*s so tiring& faithfulness that does not s(ring from true (assion." "+cstasy"9 "life together"9 "faithfulness"9 "true (assion." %osef lingers over these $ords. 'hat could they have meant to an immature (erson) They $ere at the same time enormous and vague& and their (o$er lay (recisely in their nebulous nature. -e $as on a 5uest for sensations he had never e@(erienced& did not understand9 he $as loo"ing for them in his (artner Bon the $atch for each little emotion her face might reflectC& he loo"ed for them in himself Bfor interminable hours of intros(ectionC& but he $as al$ays frustrated. !t that (oint he $rote Band %osef has to ac"no$ledge the startling (ers(icacity of this remar"C3 "The desire to feel com(assion for her and the desire to ma"e her suffer are one and the same desire." !nd indeed he behaved as if he $ere guided by those $ords3 in order to feel com(assion Bin order to reach the ecstasy of com(assionC& he did everything (ossible to see his I? girlfriend suffer9 he tortured her3 "I (rovo"ed her to doubts about my love. 0he fell into

my arms& I consoled her& I $allo$ed in her sadness and& for a moment& I could feel a tiny flame of arousal flare u( in me." %osef tries to understand the virgin boy& to (ut himself in his s"in& but he is not ca(able of it. That sentimentality mi@ed $ith sadism& that $hole business is com(letely contrary to his tastes and to his nature. -e tears a blan" (age out of the diary& (ic"s u( a (encil& and co(ies out the sentence "I $allo$ed in her sadness." -e contem(lates the t$o hand$ritings for a long time3 the one from long ago is a little clumsy& but the letters are the same sha(e as today*s. The resemblance is u(setting& it irritates him& it shoc"s him. -o$ can t$o such alien& such o((osite beings have the same hand$riting) 'hat common essence is it that ma"es a single (erson of him and this little snot) I< ?> .either the virgin boy nor the highEschool girl had access to an a(artment to be alone in9 the intercourse she (romised him had to be (ost(oned till the summer vacation& $hich $as a long $ay off. In the meantime they s(ent their time hand in hand on the side$al"s or the forest (aths Byoung lovers in those days $ere tireless $al"ersC& sentenced to re(etitive conversations and fondlings that led no$here. There in that desert $ithout ecstasy& he informed her that an unavoidable se(aration loomed& as he $ould soon be moving to 4rague. %osef is sur(rised to read this9 moving to 4rague) 0uch a (lan $as 5uite sim(ly im(ossible& for his family had never had any intention of leaving their city. !nd suddenly the memory rises u( out of oblivion& disagreeably (resent and vivid3 he is standing on a forest (ath& in front of that girl& and he*s tal"ing to her about 4rague: -e is tal"ing about moving a$ay& and he*s lying: -e recalls (erfectly his a$areness of lying& he sees himself tal"ing and lying& lying in order to see the highEschool girl cry: I> -e reads3 "0obbing& she clas(ed me to her. I $as e@tremely alert to every sign of her (ain& and I regret that I no longer remember the e@act number of her sobs." Is this (ossible) "+@tremely alert to every sign of her (ain&" he counted the sobs: That torturerEaccountant: That $as his $ay of feeling& of living& of savoring& of enacting love: -e held her in his arms& she sobbed& and he counted: -e goes on reading3 "Then she calmed do$n and told me3 *.o$ I understand those (oets $ho stayed faithful unto death.* 0he loo"ed u( at me& and her li(s t$itched." The $ord "t$itched" is underlined in the diary. %osef recalls neither her $ords nor her t$itching li(s. The only vivid recollection is the moment $hen he $as s(outing those lies about moving to 4rague. .othing else remains in his memory. -e strains to call u( the features of that e@otic girl $ho com(ared herself not to (o( singers or tennis (layers but to (oets& (oets "$ho stayed faithful unto death": -e savors the anachronism of the carefully recorded e@(ression& and feels more and more fondness for that girl& so s$eetly oldEfashioned. The one thing he holds against her is ID her having been in love $ith a detestable snot $hose only desire $as to torture her. 7h& that snot: %osef can see him staring at the girl*s li(s& those t$itching li(s uncontrolled& uncontrollable des(ite herself: -e must have been aroused by the sight& as if he $ere $atching an orgasm Ba female orgasm& a thing he $ould have no idea of:C Maybe he got an erection: -e must have: +nough: %osef turns the (ages and learns that the highEschool girl $as (re(aring to go off to the mountains for a $ee" of s"iing $ith her class9 the little snot (rotested& threatened to brea" u( $ith her9 she told him the tri( $as a school re5uirement9 he refused to listen and fle$ into a rage Banother ecstasy: an ecstasy of rage:C "If you go&

it*s the end bet$een us. I s$ear the end:" 'hat did she ans$er) =id her li(s t$itch $hen she heard his hysterical outburst) .ot li"ely& because that uncontrolled movement of the li(s& that virginal orgasm& al$ays aroused him so much that he $ould certainly have mentioned it. !((arently this time he overestimated his (o$er. 1or there are no further references to his schoolgirl. There follo$ a fe$ accounts of va(id dates $ith another girl B%osef s"i(s over some linesC& and the diary finishes $ith the closing days of the school year Bhe has one more to goC ;ust $hen an older $oman Bthis one he remembers very $ellC introduced him to (hysical love and moved his life onto other trac"s9 he had sto((ed $riting all that do$n by no$9 the diary did not outlive its author*s virginity9 a very brief cha(ter of his life came to an end& and& having neither se5uel nor conse5uence& $as relegated to the dim cu(board of castEoff items. %osef sets about ri((ing the diary (ages into tiny scra(s. The gesture is (robably e@cessive and useless9 but he feels the need to give free rein to his aversion9 the need to annihilate the little snot so that never Beven if only in a bad dreamC $ould he be mista"en for him& be vilified in his stead& be held res(onsible for his $ords and his acts: ?D !t that moment the tele(hone rang. -e remembered the $oman from the 4aris air(ort& and (ic"ed u( the (hone. "/ou $on*t recogniAe me&" said a voice. "I do& sure I do:" "But you can*t "no$ $ho you*re tal"ing to." .o& he $as mista"en9 it $asn*t the $oman from the air(ort. It $as one of those blase dra$ls& those un(leasantly nasal voices. -e $as disconcerted. 0he introduced herself3 it $as the daughter from her (revious marriage of the $oman he*d divorced after a fe$ months of life together& thirty years bac". ".o& you*re right& I couldn*t "no$ $ho I $as tal"ing to&" he said $ith a forced laugh. 0ince the divorce he had never seen them& neither his e@E$ife nor his ste(daughter& $ho in his memory $as still a little girl. "I need to tal" to you&" she said. -e regretted having begun the conversation so enthusiastically9 he $as unha((y $ith her tone of familiarity& but he couldn*t do anything about that no$3 "-o$ did you find out I $as here) .obody "no$s." "'ell& really." "'hat do you mean)" "/our sisterEinEla$." "I didn*t "no$ you "ne$ her." II "Mama does." Immediately he (ictured the alliance that had s(rung u( s(ontaneously bet$een those t$o $omen. "0o then& you*re calling on your mother*s behalf)" The blase voice turned insistent. "I need to tal" to you. It*s absolutely necessary." "/ou& or your mother)" "Me." "Tell me first $hat this is about." "=o you $ant to see me or not)" "I*m as"ing you to tell me $hat it*s about." The blase voice turned aggressive3 "If you don*t $ant to see me& ;ust say so right out." -e detested her insistence but did not dare (ut her off. Kee(ing secret her reason for the meeting $as a very effective gambit on his ste(daughter*s (art3 he gre$ uneasy.

"I*m only here for a cou(le of days9 I*m very busy. I might be able to s5ueeAe in a half hour at most. . .&" and he named a cafe in 4rague for the day he $as leaving. "/ou $on*t be there." "I*ll be there." IJ 'hen he hung u( he felt a "ind of nausea. 'hat could those $omen $ant from him) 0ome advice) 4eo(le $ho need advice don*t act aggressive. They $anted to ma"e trouble for him. 4rove they e@isted. Ta"e u( his time. But then $hy had he agreed to meet her) 7ut of curiosity) 7h& come on it $as out of fear: -e had given in to an old refle@3 to (rotect himself he al$ays tried to be fully informed in advance. But (rotect himself) These days) !gainst $hat) There $as certainly no danger. Luite sim(ly& his ste(daughter*s voice envelo(ed him in a fog of old recollections3 intrigues9 interfering relatives9 abortion9 tears9 slander9 blac"mail9 emotional bullying9 angry scenes9 anonymous letters3 the $hole concierge cons(iracy. The life $e*ve left behind us has a bad habit of ste((ing out of the shado$s& of bringing com(laints against us& of ta"ing us to court. Living far from Bohemia& %osef had lost the habit of "ee(ing his (ast in mind. But the (ast $as there& $aiting for him& $atching him. Uneasy& %osef tried to thin" about other things. But $hen a man has come to loo" at the land of his (ast& $hat can he thin" about if not his (ast) In the t$o days left to him& $hat should he do) 4ay a visit to the to$n JK $here he*d had his veterinary (ractice) 6o and stand& moistEeyed& before the house he used to live in) -e hadn*t the slightest desire to do that. 'as there anyone at all among the (eo(le he used to "no$ $hom he $ould sincerely li"e to see) ..*s face emerged. 'ay bac"& $hen the rabbleErousers of the revolution accused the very young %osef of 6od "no$s $hat Bin those years everyone& at some time or another& stood accused of 6od "no$s $hatC& ..& $ho $as an influential 2ommunist at the university& had stood u( for him $ithout $orrying about %osef*s o(inions and family bac"ground. That $as ho$ they*d become friends& and if %osef could re(roach himself for anything& it $ould be for having largely forgotten about the man during the t$enty years since his emigration. "The #ed 2ommissar: +veryone $as terrified of him:" his sisterEinEla$ had said& im(lying that& out of selfEinterest& %osef had attached himself to a stal$art of the regime. 7h& those (oor countries sha"en by great historical dates: 'hen the battle is over& everybody stam(edes off on (unitive e@(editions into the (ast to hunt do$n the guilty (arties. But $ho $ere the guilty (arties) The J8 2ommunists $ho $on in 8J>I) 7r their ineffective adversaries $ho lost) +verybody $as hunting do$n the guilty and everybody $as being hunted do$n. 'hen %osef*s brother ;oined the 4arty so as to go on $ith his studies& his friends condemned him as an o((ortunist. That had made him detest 2ommunism all the more& blaming it for his craven behavior& and his $ife had focused her o$n hatred on (eo(le li"e ..& $ho& as a convinced Mar@ist before the revolution& had of his o$n free $ill Band thus un(ardonablyC hel(ed to bring about a system she held to be the greatest of all evils. The tele(hone rang again. -e (ic"ed it u(& and this time he $as sure he recogniAed her3 "1inally:" "7h& I*m so glad to hear your *finally:* 'ere you $aiting for my call)" "Im(atiently." "#eally)" "I $as in a hideous mood: -earing your voice changes everything:" "7h& you*re ma"ing me very ha((y: -o$ I $ish you $ere $ith me right here& $here I

am." "-o$ sorry I am that I can*t be." J? "/ou*re sorry) #eally)" "#eally." "'ill I see you before you leave)" "/es& you*ll see me." "1or sure)" "1or sure: 'e*ll have lunch together the day after tomorro$:" "I*ll be delighted." -e gave her the address of his hotel in 4rague. !s he hung u(& his glance fell on the shredded diary& no$ only a small (ile of (a(er stri(s on the table. -e (ic"ed u( the $hole bundle and merrily tossed it into the $astebas"et. ?F Three years before 8JIJ& 6ustaf had o(ened an office in 4rague for his com(any& but he only $ent there for a fe$ visits each year. That $as enough for him to love the city and to see it as an ideal (lace to live9 not only out of love for Irena but also Bmaybe even es(eciallyC because there he felt& even more than in 4aris& cut off from 0$eden& J< from his family& from his (ast life. 'hen 2ommunism une@(ectedly vanished from +uro(e& he $as 5uic" to tout 4rague to his com(any as a strategic location for con5uering ne$ mar"ets. -e sa$ to the (urchase of a handsome baro5ue house for office s(ace& and set aside t$o rooms for himself u( under the eaves. Mean$hile Irena*s mother& $ho lived alone in a villa on the city*s outs"irts& (ut her $hole second floor at 6ustaf*s dis(osal9 he could thus s$itch living 5uarters as the mood struc" him. 0lee(y and un"em(t during the 2ommunist (eriod& 4rague came a$a"e before his eyes3 it filled u( $ith tourists& lit u( $ith ne$ sho(s and restaurants& dressed u( $ith restored and re(ainted baro5ue houses. "4rague is my to$n:" he $ould e@claim in +nglish. -e $as in love $ith the city3 not li"e a (atriot searching every corner of the land for his roots& his memories& the traces of his dead& but li"e a traveler res(onding $ith sur(rise and amaAement& li"e a child $andering daAAled through an amusement (ar" and reluctant ever to leave it. -aving learned 4rague*s history& he $ould declaim at length to anyone $ho*d listen about its streets& its (alaces& its churches& J> and hold forth endlessly on its stars3 on +m(eror #udolf B(rotector of (ainters and alchemistsC& on MoAart B$ho& says the gossi(& had a mistress thereC& on 1ranA Kaf"a B$ho though miserable throughout his lifetime in this city had& than"s to the travel agencies& turned into its (atron saintC. !t an unho(edEfor s(eed 4rague forgot the #ussian language that for forty years all its inhabitants had been made to learn from grade school on$ard& and no$& eager for a((lause on the $orld*s (roscenium& dis(layed to the visitors its ne$ attire of +nglishE language signs and labels. In 6ustaf*s com(any offices the staff& the trading associates& the rich customers all addressed him in +nglish& so 2Aech $as no more than an im(ersonal murmur& a bac"ground of sound against $hich only !ngloE !merican (honemes stood forth as human $ords. !nd one day $hen Irena landed in 4rague& he greeted her at the air(ort not $ith their usual 1rench "0alut:" but $ith a "-ello:" 0uddenly everything $as different. 1or let*s loo" at Irena*s life after Martin died3 she had nobody left to s(ea" 2Aech $ith& her daughters refused to $aste their time $ith such an obviously

JD useless language9 1rench $as her everyday language& her only language& so it $as 5uite natural for her to im(ose it on her 0$ede. This linguistic choice had determined their roles3 since 6ustaf s(o"e 1rench (oorly& it $as she $ho led the tal" $ithin the cou(le9 she gre$ giddy $ith her o$n elo5uence3 heavens& after so long she could finally s(ea"& s(ea" and be heard: -er verbal su(eriority balanced out their relative strengths3 she $as entirely de(endent on him& but in their conversations she ruled& and she dre$ him into her o$n $orld. .o$ 4rague $as resha(ing their language as a cou(le9 he s(o"e +nglish& Irena tried to (ersist $ith her 1rench& to $hich she felt ever more attached& but $ith no e@ternal su((ort B1rench no longer held much charm for this (reviously 1ranco(hile cityC& she $ound u( ca(itulating9 their interaction turned around3 in 4aris& 6ustaf used to listen attentively to an Irena $ho thirsted for the sound of her o$n $ords9 in 4rague he turned into the tal"er& a big tal"er& a long tal"er. Kno$ing little +nglish& Irena understood only half of $hat he said& and as she didn*t feel li"e ma"ing much effort& she listened to him rather little and s(o"e to him still less. -er 6reat #eturn too" a very odd t$ist3 in the streets& surrounded by 2Aechs& the $hiff of an old familiarity $ould caress her and for a moment ma"e her ha((y9 then& bac" in the house& she $ould become a silent foreigner. 2ou(les have a continuous conversation that lulls them& its melodious stream thro$ing a veil over the body*s $aning desires. 'hen the conversation brea"s off& the absence of (hysical love comes for$ard li"e a ghost. In the face of Irena*s muteness& 6ustaf lost his confidence. -e came to (refer s(ending time $ith her in the (resence of her family& her mother& her halfEbrother and his $ife9 he $ould dine $ith them all at the villa or at a restaurant& loo"ing to their com(any for shelter& for refuge& for (eace. They $ere never short of to(ics because they could only broach so fe$3 their common vocabulary $as limited& and to ma"e themselves understood everyone had to s(ea" slo$ly and "ee( re(eating things. 6ustaf $as on the $ay to recovering his serenity9 this slo$Etem(o babble suited him& it $as restful& agreeable& and even merry Bthey $ere constantly laughing over their comical distortions of +nglish $ordsC. JF JH Irena*s eyes $ere long since em(ty of desire& but from habit they still set their $ide gaAe on 6ustaf and discomfited him. To cover his trac"s and mas" his erotic $ithdra$al& he too" (leasure in goodEnaturedly dirty stories and mildly ambiguEous allusions& all delivered loudly and $ith laughter. The mother $as his best ally& ever 5uic" to su((ort him $ith smutty remar"s that she $ould (ronounce in some e@aggerated& (arodic manner& and in her (uerile +nglish. Listening to the t$o of them& Irena got the sense that eroticism had once and for all turned into childish clo$ning. ?H 1rom the moment she ran into %osef at the 4aris air(ort& she*s been thin"ing of nothing but him. 0he constantly re(lays their brief encounter long ago in 4rague. In the bar $here she*d been sitting $ith friends& he $as older and more interesting than the others& funny and seductive& and he (aid attention only to her. 'hen they had all gone out into the street& he sa$ to it that they $ere left to JI themselves. -e sli((ed her a little ashtray he*d stolen for her from the bar. Then this man she had "no$n for only a cou(le of hours invited her home $ith him. 0he $as engaged to Martin& and she couldn*t $or" u( the nerve9 she*d refused. But immediately she had felt such an abru(t& (iercing regret that she has never forgotten it.

!nd so& $hen she $as (re(aring to emigrate& sorting out $hat to ta"e $ith her and $hat to leave behind& she had stuc" the little ashtray into a valise9 abroad& she often carried it in her (urse& secretly& li"e a good luc" charm. 0he recalls that in the air(ort lounge he had said in a grave& strange tone3 "I*m a com(letely free man." 0he had the sense that their love story& begun t$enty years earlier& had merely been (ost(oned until the t$o of them should be free. !nd she recalls another of his remar"s3 "It*s (ure chance that I*m going through 4aris"9 "chance" is another $ay of saying "fate"9 he had to go through 4aris so that their story could ta"e u( at the (oint $here it had been interru(ted. 'ith her cell (hone in hand& she tries to reach him from $herever she is cafes& a friend*s a(artment& the street. The hotel number is correct& but JJ he*s never in his room. !ll day long she thin"s about him and& since o((osites attract& about 6ustaf. 4assing a souvenir sho(& she sees in the $indo$ a TEshirt sho$ing the gloomy face of a tubercular& $ith a line in +nglish3 K!1K! '!0 B7#. I. 4#!6U+. ! magnificently stu(id TEshirt& it enchants her& and she buys it. To$ard evening she returns to the house meaning to (hone him undisturbed from there& because on 1ridays 6ustaf al$ays comes home late9 against all e@(ectations he is on the ground floor $ith her mother& and the room resounds $ith their 2AechE+nglish babble over the voice of a television anchorman no one is $atching. 0he hands 6ustaf a little (ac"age3 "1or you:" Then she leaves them to admire the gift and goes u( to their rooms on the second floor& $here she shuts herself into the bathroom. 0itting on the rim of the toilet& she (ulls the tele(hone out of her (urse. 0he hears his "1inally:" and& overcome $ith ;oy& tells him& "7h& ho$ I $ish you $ere $ith me right here& $here I am"9 only after she s(ea"s those $ords does she realiAe $here she*s sitting& and she blushes9 the unintended indecency of $hat she*s said startles her 8KK and instantly arouses her. !t that moment& for the first time after so many years& she has the sense that she*s cheating on her 0$ede& and ta"es a vicious (leasure in it. 'hen she goes bac" do$n to the living room& 6ustaf is $earing the TEshirt and laughing raucously. 0he "no$s the scene by heart3 (arody seduction& overbroad $itticisms3 a senile counterfeit of burnedEout eroticism. The mother is holding 6ustaf*s hand and she announces to Irena3 "'ithout your (ermission I $ent ahead and dressed u( your boyfriend. Isn*t he gorgeous)" 0he turns $ith him to$ard a great mirror hanging on the $all. 'atching their reflection& she raises 6ustaf*s arm as if he $ere a $inner at the 7lym(ics& and& going along $ith the game& he s$ells his chest for the mirror and declares in ringing tones3 "Kaf"a $as born in 4rague:" 8K8 ?I 0he had se(arated from her first boyfriend $ith no great (ain. 'ith the second it $as $orse. 'hen she heard him say& "If you go& it*s the end bet$een us. I s$ear the end:" she could not utter a single $ord. 0he loved him& and he $as flinging in her face a thing that& only a fe$ minutes earlier& she $ould have thought inconceivable& uns(ea"able3 their brea"u(. "It*s the end bet$een us." The end. If he*s (romising her the end& $hat should she (romise him) -is $ords contain a threat9 so $ill hers3 "!ll right&" she says slo$ly and evenly. "Then it $ill be the end. I (romise you that& too& and you $on*t forget it." Then she turned her bac" on him& leaving him standing right there in the street. 0he $as $ounded& but $as she angry $ith him) 4erha(s not even. 7f course& he ought to have been more understanding& for clearly she could not (ull out of the tri(&

$hich $as a school re5uirement. 0he $ould have had to feign an illness& but $ith her clumsy honesty& she could never have (ulled it off. .o 5uestion& he $as overE doing it& he $as unfair& but she "ne$ it $as because he loved her. 0he understood his ;ealousy3 he $as imagining her off in the mountains $ith other boys& and it u(set him. Inca(able of real anger& she $aited for him outside school& to e@(lain that $ith the best $ill in the $orld& she really couldn*t do $hat he $anted& and that he had no reason to be ;ealous9 she $as sure he $ould understand. 1rom the door$ay he sa$ her and dro((ed bac" to fall into ste( $ith a friend. =enied a (rivate conversation& she follo$ed behind him through the streets& and $hen he too" leave of the friend she hurried to$ard him. 4oor thing& she should have sus(ected that there $asn*t a chance& that her s$eetheart $as caught u( in an unremitting frenAy. 0he had barely begun to s(ea" $hen he bro"e in3 "/ou*ve changed your mind) /ou*re cancelling)" 'hen she started to say the same thing again for the tenth time& he $as the one $ho s(un on his heel and left her standing alone in the middle of the street. 0he fell bac" into a dee( sorro$& but still $ithout anger at him. 0he "ne$ that love means giving each other everything. "+verything"3 that 8K? 8K< $ord is fundamental. +verything& thus not only the (hysical love she had (romised him& but courage too& the courage for big things as $ell as small ones& $hich is to say even the (uny courage to disobey a silly school re5uirement. !nd in shame she sa$ that des(ite all her love& she $as not ca(able of mustering that courage. It $as grotes5ue& heartbrea"ingly grotes5ue3 here she $as (re(ared to give him everything& her virginity of course& but also& if he $anted it& her health and any sacrifice he could thin" u(& and still she couldn*t bring herself to disobey a miserable school (rinci(al. 0hould she let herself be defeated by such (ettiness) -er selfEdisgust $as unbearable& and she $anted to get free of it at any cost9 she $anted to reach some greatness in $hich her (ettiness $ould disa((ear9 a greatness before $hich he $ould ultimately have to bo$ do$n9 she $anted to die. 8K> ?J To die9 to decide to die9 that*s much easier for an adolescent than for an adult. 'hat) =oesn*t death stri( an adolescent of a far larger (ortion of future) 2ertainly it does& but for a young (erson& the future is a remote& abstract& unreal thing he doesn*t really believe in. Transfi@ed& she $atched her shattered love& the most beautiful (iece of her life& dra$ing a$ay slo$ly and forever9 nothing e@isted for her e@ce(t that (ast9 to it she $anted to ma"e herself "no$n& $anted to s(ea" and send signals. The future held no interest for her9 she desired eternity9 eternity is time that has sto((ed& come to a standstill9 the future ma"es eternity im(ossible9 she $anted to annihilate the future. But ho$ can a (erson die in the midst of a cro$d of students& in a little mountain hotel& constantly in (lain vie$) 0he figured it out3 she*ll leave the hotel& $al" far& very far& into the $ild& and& some(lace off the trails& lie do$n in the sno$ and go to slee(. =eath $ill come during slumber& death by freeAing& a s$eet& (ainless death. 0he 8KD $ill only have to get through a brief stretch of cold. !nd even that& she can shorten $ith the hel( of a fe$ slee(ing tablets. 1rom a vial unearthed at home she (oured out five of them& no more& so Mama $ouldn*t miss them. 0he laid (lans for her death $ith her usual (racticality. -er first idea $as to leave the hotel late in the day and die at night& but she dro((ed that3 (eo(le $ould be 5uic" to miss her in the dining room and even more surely in the dormitory9 she $ouldn*t have

time enough to die. 2unningly she decided on the hour after lunch& $hen everyone na(s before heading bac" to s"i3 a recess $hen her absence $ould $orry nobody. 2ould she not see a blatant dis(ro(ortion bet$een the triviality of the cause and the hugeness of the act) =id she not "no$ that her (ro;ect $as e@cessive) 7f course she did& but the e@cess $as (recisely $hat a((ealed to her. 0he did not $ant to be reasonable. 0he did not $ant to behave in a measured $ay. 0he did not $ant to measure& she did not $ant to reason. 0he admired her (assion& "no$ing that (assion is by definition e@cessive. Into@icated& she did not $ant to emerge from into@ication. 8KF Then comes the a((ointed day. 0he leaves the hotel. Beside the door hangs a thermometer3 minus ten degrees 2elsius. 0he sets out and realiAes that her into@icated state has been succeeded by an@iety9 in vain she see"s her (revious enthrallment& in vain she calls for the ideas that had surrounded her dream of death9 in vain& but nonetheless she "ee(s $al"ing the trail Bher schoolmates are mean$hile ta"ing their re5uired siestasC as if she $ere (erforming a chore she*d set herself& as if she $ere (laying a role she*d assigned herself. -er soul is em(ty& $ithout emotion& li"e the soul of an actor reciting a te@t and no longer thin"ing about $hat he*s saying. 0he climbs a trail glistening $ith sno$ and soon reaches the crest. The s"y above is blue9 the many clouds sunEdrenched& gilded& lively have moved do$n& settled li"e a great diadem on the broad ring of the encircling mountains. It is beautiful& it is mesmeriAing& and she has a brief& very brief& sensation of ha((iness& $hich ma"es her forget the (ur(ose of her $al". ! brief& very brief& too brief sensation. 7ne after the other she s$allo$s the tablets and& follo$ing her (lan& $al"s do$n from the crest into a forest. 0he ste(s along 8KH a foot(ath9 in ten minutes she feels slee( coming on& and she "no$s the end has come. The sun is overhead& brilliant& brilliant. !s if the curtain $ere suddenly lifting& her heart tightens $ith stagefright. 0he feels tra((ed on a lighted stage $ith all the e@its bloc"ed. 0he sits do$n beneath a fir tree& o(ens her bag& and ta"es out a mirror. It is a small round mirror9 she holds it u( to her face and loo"s at herself. 0he is beautiful& she is very beautiful& and she does not $ant to (art from this beauty& she does not $ant to lose it& she $ants to carry it a$ay $ith her& ah& she is already $eary& so $eary& but even $eary she re;oices in her beauty because it is $hat she cherishes most in this $orld. 0he loo"s in the mirror& then she sees her li(s t$itch. It is an involuntary movement& a tic. 0he has often registered that reaction of hers& she has felt it ha((ening on her face& but this is the first time she is seeing it. !t the sight she is doubly moved3 moved by her beauty and moved by her li(s t$itching9 moved by her beauty and moved by the emotion $rac"ing that beauty and distorting it9 moved by her beauty that her body laments. !n enormous (ity overta"es her& (ity for 8KI her beauty that $ill soon cease to be& (ity for the $orld that $ill also cease to be& that already does not e@ist& that is already out of reach& for slee( has come& it is carrying her a$ay& flying off $ith her& high u(& very high& to$ard that enormous blinding brilliance& to$ard the blue& brilliantly blue s"y& a cloudless firmament& a firmament ablaAe. <K 'hen his brother said& "/ou got married over there& I believe&" he ans$ered "/es" $ith no further remar". -is brother might merely have used some other turn of (hrase& and rather than saying& "/ou got married&" as"ed& "!re you married)" In that case %osef $ould have ans$ered& ".o& $ido$ed." -e hadn*t meant to mislead his brother& but the $ay the 5uery $as (hrased allo$ed him& $ithout lying& to "ee( silent about his $ife*s

death. =uring the conversation that follo$ed& his brother and sisterEinEla$ avoided any mention of her. That must have been out of embarrassment3 8KJ for security reasons Bto avoid being 5uestioned by the (oliceC they had denied themselves the slightest contact $ith their emigre relative and never even realiAed that their forced caution had soon turned into authentic lac" of interest3 they "ne$ nothing about his $ife& not her age or her given name or her (rofession& and by "ee(ing their silence no$ they ho(ed to disguise that ignorance& $hich sho$ed u( the terrible (overty of their relations $ith him. But %osef too" no offense9 their ignorance suited him fine. 0ince the day he buried her& he had al$ays felt uncomfortable $hen he had to inform someone of her death9 as if by doing so he $ere betraying her in her most (rivate (rivacy. By not s(ea"ing of her death& he al$ays felt he $as (rotecting her. 1or the $oman $ho is dead is a $oman $ith no defenses9 she has no more (o$er& she has no more influence9 (eo(le no longer res(ect either her $ishes or her tastes9 the dead $oman cannot $ill anything& cannot as(ire to any res(ect or refute any slander. .ever had he felt such sorro$ful& such agoniAing com(assion for her as $hen she $as dead. 88K <8 %onas -allgrimsson $as a great romantic (oet and also a great fighter for Iceland*s inde(endence. In the nineteenth century all of smallEnation +uro(e had these romantic (atriotE(oets3 4etofi in -ungary& Mic"ie$icA in 4oland& 4reseren in 0lovenia& Macha in Bohemia& 0hevchen"o in U"raine& 'ergeland in .or$ay& Lonnrot in 1inland& and the li"e. Iceland $as a colony of =enmar" at the time& and -allgrimsson lived out his last years in the =anish ca(ital. !ll the great romantic (oets& besides being great (atriots& $ere great drin"ers. 7ne day& dead drun"& -allgrimsson fell do$n a staircase& bro"e a leg& got an infection& died& and $as buried in a 2o(enhagen cemetery. That $as in 8I>D. .inetyEnine years later& in 8J>>& the Icelandic #e(ublic declared its inde(endence. 1rom then on events hastened their course. In 8J>F the (oet*s soul visited a rich Icelandic industrialist in his slee( and confided3 "1or a hundred years no$ my s"eleton has lain in a foreign land& in the enemy country. Is it not time it came home to its o$n free Ithaca)" 888 1lattered and elated by this nocturnal visit& the (atriotic industrialist had the (oet*s s"eleton dug out of the enemy soil and carried bac" to Iceland& intending to bury it in the lovely valley $here the (oet had been born. But no one can sto( the mad course of events3 in the ineffably e@5uisite landsca(e of Thingvellir Bthe sacred (lace $here& a thousand years ago& the first Icelandic (arliament gathered beneath the o(en s"yC& the ministers of the brandEne$ re(ublic had created a cemetery for the great men of the homeland9 they ri((ed the (oet a$ay from the industrialist and buried him in the (antheon that at the time contained only the grave of another great (oet Bsmall nations abound in great (oetsC& +inar Benedi"tsson. But again events rushed on& and soon everyone learned $hat the (atriotic industrialist had never dared admit3 standing at the o(ened tomb bac" in 2o(enhagen& he had felt e@tremely disconcerted3 the (oet had been buried in a (au(ers* field $ith no name mar"ing his grave& only a number and& confronted $ith a bunch of s"eletons tangled together& the (atriotic industrialist had not "no$n $hich one to (ic". In the (resence of the stern& im(atient cemetery bureaucrats& he 88?

did not dare sho$ his uncertainty. !nd so he had trans(orted to Iceland not the Icelandic (oet but a =anish butcher. In Iceland (eo(le had initially tried to hush u( this lugubriously comical mista"e& but events continued to run their course& and in 8J>I the indiscreet $riter -alldor La@ness s(illed the beans in a novel. 'hat to do) Kee( 5uiet. Therefore -allgrimsson*s bones still lie t$o thousand miles a$ay from his Ithaca& in enemy soil& $hile the body of the =anish butcher& $ho although no (oet $as a (atriot as $ell& still lies banished to a glacial island that never stirred him to anything but fear and re(ugnance. +ven hushed u(& the conse5uence of the truth $as that no one else $as ever buried in the e@5uisite cemetery at Thingvellir& $hich harbors only t$o coffins and $hich thereby& of all the $orld*s (antheons& those grotes5ue museums of (ride& is the only one ca(able of touching our hearts. ! very long time ago %osef*s $ife had told him that story9 they thought it $as funny& and a moral lesson seemed easily dra$n from it3 nobody much cares $here a dead (erson*s bones $ind u(. !nd yet %osef changed his mind $hen his $ife*s 88< death became imminent and inevitable. 0uddenly the story of the =anish butcher abducted to Iceland seemed not funny but terrifying. <? The idea of dying $hen she did had been $ith him for a long time. It $as due not to romantic grandiosity but rather to a rational consideration3 if ever his $ife should be struc" by a fatal illness& he had determined he $ould cut short her suffering9 to avoid being indicted for murder& he (lanned to die as $ell. Then she actually did fall gravely ill& and suffered terribly& and %osef no longer had a mind for suicide. .ot out of fear for his o$n life. But he found intolerable the idea of leaving that very beloved body to the mercy of alien hands. 'ith him dead& $ho $ould (rotect the dead $oman) -o$ could one cor(se "ee( another one safe) Long ago in Bohemia& he had $atched over his mother*s dying agony9 he loved her very much& but once she $as no longer alive& her body ceased to interest him9 to his mind her cor(se $as no longer she. Besides& t$o doctors& his father and his brother& too" care of the dying $oman& and in the order of im(ortance he $as ;ust the third family member. This time everything $as different3 the $oman he sa$ dying belonged to him alone9 he $as ;ealous for her body and $anted to $atch over its (osthumous fate. -e even had to admonish himself3 here she $as still alive& lying in front of him& she $as s(ea"ing to him& and he $as already thin"ing of her as dead9 she $as gaAing u( at him& her eyes larger than ever& and his mind $as busy $ith her cas"et and her grave. -e scolded himself for that as if it $ere a shoc"ing betrayal& an im(atience& a secret $ish to hasten her death. But he couldn*t hel( it3 he "ne$ that after the death& her family $ould come to claim her for their family vault& and the idea horrified him. 2ontem(tuous of funeral concerns& in $riting their $ills sometime earlier he and she had been too offhand9 their instructions on dis(osing of their (ossessions $ere very rudimentary& and they hadn*t even mentioned burial. The omission obsessed him $hile she $as dying& but since he 88> 88D $as trying to convince her that she $ould beat death& he had to hold his tongue. -o$ could he confess to the (oor $oman $ho still believed she $ould recover& ho$ could he confess $hat he $as thin"ing about) -o$ could he tal" about the $ill) +s(ecially since she $as already sli((ing into s(ells of delirium& and her thin"ing $as muddled.

-is $ife*s family& a (rominent and influential family& had never li"ed %osef. It seemed to him that the struggle ahead for his $ife*s body $ould be the toughest and most im(ortant he $ould ever fight. The idea that this body $ould be loc"ed into an obscene (romiscuity $ith other bodies& un"no$n and meaningless& $as unbearable to him& as $as the idea that he himself& $hen he died& $ould end u( $ho "ne$ $here and certainly far a$ay from her. To let that ha((en seemed a defeat as huge as eternity& a defeat never to be forgiven. 'hat he feared came about. -e could not avoid the shoc". -is motherEinEla$ railed against him3 "It*s my daughter: It*s my daughter:" -e had to hire a la$yer& hand over a bundle of money to (acify the family& hastily buy a cemetery (lot& 88F act more 5uic"ly than the others to $in this final combat. The feverish activity of a slee(less $ee" fended off his suffering& but something even stranger occurred3 $hen she $as in the grave that belonged to them Ba grave for t$o& li"e a t$oEseat buggyC& in the dar"ness of his sorro$ he glim(sed a feeble& trembling& barely visible ray of ha((iness. -a((iness at not having let do$n his beloved9 at having (rovided for their future& his and hers both. << !n instant earlier she had been drenched in the radiant blue: 0he $as immaterial& transmuted into brilliance: !nd then& abru(tly& the s"y $ent blac". !nd she& fallen bac" onto the earth& turned into heavy dar" matter. 0carcely understanding $hat had ha((ened& she could not tear her gaAe a$ay from u( there3 the s"y $as blac"& blac"& im(lacably blac". 88H 7ne (art of her body chattered $ith cold& the other $as numb. That frightened her. 0he stood u(. !fter several long moments she remembered3 a hotel in the mountains9 classmates. =aAed& her body sha"ing& she loo"ed for the (ath. !t the hotel they called an ambulance& and it too" her a$ay. 7ver the ne@t days in her hos(ital bed& her fingers& her ears& her nose& $hich at first $ere numb& gave her terrific (ain. The doctors reassured her& but one nurse too" delight in reciting all the conceivable effects of freeAings3 a (erson could end u( $ith his fingers am(utated. 0tric"en $ith terror& she imagined an a@9 a surgeon*s a@9 a butcher*s a@9 she imagined her fingerless hand and its severed fingers lying beside her on an o(erating table& for her to see. !t night& for su((er& they brought her meat. 0he could not eat. 0he imagined chun"s of her o$n flesh on the (late. -er fingers came (ainfully bac" to life& but her left ear turned blac". The surgeon& an elderly& sorro$ful& com(assionate man& sat on her bed to tell her it must be am(utated. 0he screamed. -er left ear: My 6od& ho$ she screamed: -er face& her lovely face& $ith an ear cut off: .o one could calm her. 88I 7h& everything had gone the o((osite of $hat she*d intended: 0he had meant to become an eternity that $ould abolish the $hole future& and instead& the future $as bac" again& invincible& hideous& re(ugnant& li"e a sna"e $rithing in front of her and rubbing against her legs and slithering ahead to sho$ her the $ay. !t school the ne$s s(read that she had got lost and had come bac" covered $ith frostbite. 4eo(le blamed her as a headstrong girl $ho s"i((ed the re5uired (rogram and $ent $andering stu(idly off $ith not even an elementary sense of direction for finding her $ay bac" to the hotel& $hich could actually be seen from a distance. -ome from the hos(ital& she refused to go outdoors. 0he $as terrified of running into (eo(le she "ne$. In des(air her (arents arranged a 5uiet transfer to another high school& in a nearby to$n.

7h& everything had gone the o((osite of $hat she*d intended: 0he had dreamed of dying mysteriously. 0he had done her best so no one could tell $hether her death $as an accident or a suicide. 0he had meant to send him her death as a secret sign& a sign of love transmitted from the beyond& com(rehensible to no one but him. 0he 88J had antici(ated everything e@ce(t& (erha(s& the number of slee(ing tablets9 e@ce(t& (erha(s& the tem(erature& $hich as she $as dro$sing off had gone u(. 0he had e@(ected that the freeAe $ould (lunge her into slee( and into death& but the slee( $as too $ea"9 she had o(ened her eyes and seen the blac" s"y. Those t$o s"ies had divided her life into t$o (arts3 blue s"y& blac" s"y. The second s"y $as the one she $ould $al" beneath to her death& her true death& the fara$ay and trivial death of old age. !nd he) -e $as living beneath a s"y that had nothing to do $ith her. -e no longer sought her out& she no longer sought him out. #ecalling him a$a"ened neither love nor hatred in her. !t the thought of him& she $as as if anesthetiAed $ith no ideas& no emotions. <> ! human lifetime is IK years long on average. ! (erson imagines and organiAes his life $ith that s(an in mind. 'hat I have ;ust said everyone 8?K "no$s& but only rarely do $e realiAe that the number of years granted us is not merely a 5uantitative fact& an e@ternal feature Bli"e nose length or eye colorC& but is (art of the very definition of the human. ! (erson $ho might live& $ith all his faculties& t$ice as long& say 8FK years& $ould not belong to our s(ecies. .othing about his life $ould be li"e ours not love& or ambitions& or feelings& or nostalgia9 nothing. If after ?K years abroad an emigre $ere to come bac" to his native land $ith another hundred years of life ahead of him& he $ould have little sense of a 6reat #eturn& for him it $ould (robably not be a return at all& ;ust one of many by$ays in the long ;ourney of his life. 1or the very notion of homeland& $ith all its emotional (o$er& is bound u( $ith the relative brevity of our life& $hich allo$s us too little time to become attached to some other country& to other countries& to other languages. 0e@ual relations can ta"e u( the $hole of adult life. But if that life $ere a lot longer& might not staleness stifle the ca(acity for arousal $ell before one*s (hysical (o$ers declined) 1or there is an enormous difference bet$een the first and the 8?8 tenth& the hundredth& the thousandth& or the tenEthousandth coitus. 'here lies the boundary line beyond $hich re(etition becomes stereoty(ed& if not comical or even im(ossible) !nd once that boundary is crossed& $hat $ould become of the erotic relationshi( bet$een a man and a $oman) 'ould it vanish) 7r& on the contrary& $ould lovers consider the se@ual (hase of their lives to be the barbaric (rehistory of real love) !ns$ering these 5uestions is as easy as imagining the (sychology of the inhabitants of an un"no$n (lanet. The notion of love Bof great love& of oneEandEonly loveC itself also derives& (robably& from the narro$ bounds of the time $e are granted. If that time $ere boundless& $ould %osef be so attached to his deceased $ife) 'e $ho must die so soon& $e ;ust don*t "no$. <D Memory cannot be understood& either& $ithout a mathematical a((roach. The fundamental given is the ratio bet$een the amount of time in the 8?? lived life and the amount of time from that life that is stored in memory. .o one has

ever tried to calculate this ratio& and in fact there e@ists no techni5ue for doing so9 yet $ithout much ris" of error I could assume that the memory retains no more than a millionth& a hundredEmillionth& in short an utterly infinitesimal bit of the lived life. That fact too is (art of the essence of man. If someone could retain in his memory everything he had e@(erienced& if he could at any time call u( any fragment of his (ast& he $ould be nothing li"e human beings3 neither his loves nor his friendshi(s nor his angers nor his ca(acity to forgive or avenge $ould resemble ours. 'e $ill never cease our criti5ue of those (ersons $ho distort the (ast& re$rite it& falsify it& $ho e@aggerate the im(ortance of one event and fail to mention some other9 such a criti5ue is (ro(er Bit cannot fail to beC& but it doesn*t count for much unless a more basic criti5ue (recedes it3 a criti5ue of human memory as such. 1or after all& $hat can memory actually do& the (oor thing) It is only ca(able of retaining a (altry little scra( of the (ast& and no one "no$s $hy ;ust this scra( and not some other one& since in each of us the choice 8?< occurs mysteriously& outside our $ill or our interests. 'e $on*t understand a thing about human life if $e (ersist in avoiding the most obvious fact3 that a reality no longer is $hat it $as $hen it $as9 it cannot be reconstructed. +ven the most voluminous archives cannot hel(. 2onsider %osef*s old diary as an archival document that (reserves notes by the authentic $itness to a certain (ast9 the notes s(ea" of events that their author has no reason to re(udiate but that his memory cannot confirm& either. 7ut of everything the diary describes& only one detail s(ar"ed a clear& and certainly accurate& memory3 he sa$ himself on a forest (ath telling a highE school girl the lie about his moving to 4rague9 that little scene& or more (recisely that shado$ of a scene Bfor he recalls only the general tenor of his remar" and the fact of having liedC& is the sole scra( of life that is still stored a$ay& aslee(& in his memory. But it is isolated from $hat (receded it and $hat follo$ed it3 by $hat remar"& $hat action of her o$n had the highEschool girl incited him to invent that (hony story) !nd $hat ha((ened in the days after that) -o$ long did he "ee( u( his dece(tion) !nd ho$ did he get out of it) 8?> If he should $ant to recount that recollection as a little anecdote that made sense& he $ould have to insert it into a causal se5uence $ith other events& other acts& and other $ords9 and since he has forgotten them& all he could do $as invent them9 not to fool anyone but to ma"e the recollection intelligible9 $hich is e@actly $hat he did automatically for his o$n sa"e $hen he rethought that (assage in the diary3 The little snot $as in des(air at finding no sign of ecstasy in the love of his highEschool girl9 $hen he touched her rum(& she lifted his hand a$ay9 to (unish her he told her that he $ould be moving to 4rague9 (ained& she let him (et her and declared that she understood the (oets $ho stayed faithful unto death9 so everything turned out blissfully for him& e@ce(t that after a $ee" or t$o the girl deduced from her boyfriend*s (lans to move that she ought to re(lace him soon $ith someone else9 she began loo"ing around9 the little snot got $ind of it and $as uncontrollably ;ealous9 ta"ing as (rete@t a school e@cursion she $as re5uired to ;oin $ithout him& he thre$ a tantrum9 he made a fool of himself9 she dro((ed him. !lthough he meant to get as close as (ossible to 8?D the truth& %osef could not claim that his anecdote $as identical $ith $hat he had actually e@(erienced9 he "ne$ that it $as only the (lausible (lastered over the forgotten. I imagine the feelings of t$o (eo(le meeting again after many years. In the (ast they

s(ent some time together& and therefore they thin" they are lin"ed by the same e@(erience& the same recollections. The same recollections) That*s $here the misunderstanding starts3 they don*t have the same recollections9 each of them retains t$o or three small scenes from the (ast& but each has his o$n9 their recollections are not similar9 they don*t intersect9 and even in terms of 5uantity they are not com(arable3 one (erson remembers the other more than he is remembered9 first because memory ca(acity varies among individuals Ban e@(lanation that each of them $ould at least find acce(tableC& but also Band this is more (ainful to admitC because they don*t hold the same im(ortance for each other. 'hen Irena sa$ %osef at the air(ort& she remembered every detail of their longEago adventure9 %osef remembered nothing. 1rom the very first moment their encounter $as based on an un;ust and revolting ine5uality. 8?F <F 'hen t$o (eo(le live in the same a(artment& see each other every day& and also love each other& their daily conversations bring their t$o memories into line3 by tacit and unconscious consent they leave vast areas of their life unremembered& and they tal" time and time again about the same fe$ events out of $hich they $eave a ;oint narrative that& li"e a breeAe in the boughs& murmurs above their heads and reminds them constantly that they have lived together. 'hen Martin died& the violent current of $orries carried Irena far a$ay from him and from the (eo(le $ho "ne$ him. -e vanished from conversations& and even his t$o daughters& $ho $ere too young $hen he $as alive& too" no further interest in him. 7ne day she met 6ustaf& and to (rolong their conversation& he told her he had "no$n her husband. That $as the last time that Martin $as $ith her& a strong& im(ortant& influential (resence serving as a bridge to the man $ho $as soon to be her lover. 7nce Martin had fulfilled that mission& he $ithdre$ for good. 8?H Long before& in 4rague& on their $edding day& Martin had settled Irena in his villa9 his o$n library and office $ere on the second floor& and he "e(t the street level for his life as husband and father9 before they left for 1rance he transferred the villa to his motherE inEla$& and t$enty years later she gave 6ustaf that second floor& by then entirely refurbished. 'hen Milada came there to visit Irena& she reminisced about her former colleague3 "This is $here Martin used to $or"&" she said& reflective. But no shade of Martin a((eared after those $ords. -e had long ago been dislodged from the house& he and all his shades. !fter his $ife*s death %osef noticed that $ithout daily conversations& the murmur of their (ast life gre$ faint. To intensify it& he tried to revive his $ife*s image& but the lac"luster result distressed him. 0he*d had a doAen different smiles. -e strained his imagination to reEcreate them. -e failed. 0he*d had a gift for fast funny lines that $ould delight him. -e couldn*t call forth a single one. -e finally $ondered3 if he $ere to add u( the fe$ recollections he still had from their life together& ho$ much time $ould they ta"e) ! minute) T$o minutes) That*s another enigma about memory& more basic than all the rest3 do recollections have some measurable tem(oral volume) do they unfold over a s(an of time) -e tries to (icture their first encounter3 he sees a staircase leading do$n from the side$al" into a beer cellar9 he sees cou(les here and there in a yello$ halfElight9 and he sees her& his future $ife& sitting across from him& a brandy glass in hand& her gaAe fi@ed on him& $ith a shy smile. 1or a long $hile he $atches her holding her glass and smiling9 he scrutiniAes this face& this hand& and through all this time she remains motionless& does not lift the glass to her mouth or change her smile in the slightest. !nd there lies the horror3 the (ast $e remember is devoid of time. Im(ossible to ree@(erience a love the

$ay $e reread a boo" or resee a film. =ead& %osef*s $ife has no dimension at all& either material or tem(oral. Therefore all efforts to revive her in his mind soon became torture. Instead of re;oicing at having retrieved this or that forgotten moment& he $as driven to des(air by the immensity of the void around that moment. Then one day he forbade himself that (ainful ramble through the corE 8?I 8?J ridors of the (ast& and sto((ed his vain efforts to bring her bac" as she had been. -e even thought that by his fi@ation on her bygone e@istence& he $as traitorously relegating her to a museum of vanished ob;ects and e@cluding her from his (resent life. Besides& they had never made a cult of reminiscence. .ot that they*d destroyed their (rivate corres(ondence& of course& or their dateboo"s $ith notes on errands and a((ointments. But it never occurred to them to reread them. -e therefore determined to live $ith the dead $oman the $ay he had $ith the living one. -e no$ $ent to her grave not to reminisce but to s(end time $ith her9 to see her eyes loo"ing at him& and loo"ing not from the (ast but from the (resent moment. !nd no$ a ne$ life began for him3 living $ith the dead $oman. There is a ne$ cloc" organiAing his time. ! stic"ler for tidiness& she used to be irritated by the disorder he left every$here. .o$ he does the housecleaning himself& meticulously. 1or he loves their home even more no$ than he did $hen she $as alive3 the lo$ $ooden fence $ith its little gate9 the garden9 the fir tree in front of the dar"Ered bric" house9 the t$o facing easy chairs they*d sit in at the end of the $or"ing day9 the $indo$ ledge $here she al$ays "e(t a bo$l of flo$ers on one end& a lam( on the other9 they $ould leave that lam( on $hile they $ere out so they could see it from afar as they came do$n the street bac" to the house. -e res(ects all those customs& and he ta"es care to see that every chair& every vase is $here she li"ed to have it. -e revisits the (laces they loved3 the seaside restaurant $here the o$ner invariably reminds him of his $ife*s favorite fish dishes9 in a small to$n nearby& the rectangle of the to$n s5uare $ith redE& blueE& yello$E(ainted houses& a modest beauty they found enthralling9 or& on a visit to 2o(enhagen& the $harf $here every evening at si@ a great $hite steamshi( set out to sea. There they could stand motionless for a long time $atching it. Before it sailed music $ould ring out& oldEtime ;aAA& the invitation to the voyage. 0ince her death he often goes there9 he imagines her beside him and feels again their mutual yearning to climb aboard that $hite nocturnal shi(& to dance on it and slee( on it and $a"e u( some$here far& very far& to the north. 0he li"ed him to dress $ell& and she sa$ to his 8<K 8<8 $ardrobe herself. -e hasn*t forgotten $hich of his shirts she li"ed and $hich she did not. 1or this visit to Bohemia& he (ur(osely (ac"ed a suit she*d had no feeling for either $ay. -e did not $ant to grant this ;ourney too much attention& It is not a ;ourney for her& or $ith her. <H 2om(letely focused on her ne@tEday*s rendeAvous& Irena means to s(end this 0aturday in (eace and 5uiet& li"e an athlete on the eve of a match. 6ustaf is $or"ing in the city& and he*ll be out for the evening as $ell. 0he ta"es advantage of her solitude& she slee(s late and then stays in their rooms& trying not to run into her mother9 do$nstairs she can hear the $oman*s comings and goings& $hich end only around noon. 'hen finally she hears the door slam hard and is sure her mother has left the house& she

goes do$n to the "itchen& absentmindedly eats a little something& and ta"es off as $ell. 7n the side$al" she sto(s& enthralled. In the autumn sunshine this garden neighborhood scattered $ith little villas reveals a 5uiet beauty that gri(s her heart and lures her into a long $al". It reminds her that she had $anted to ta"e ;ust such a $al"& long and contem(lative& in the last days before her emigration& so as to bid fare$ell to this city& to all the streets she had loved9 but there $ere too many things to arrange& and she never found the time. 0een from $here she is strolling& 4rague is a broad green s$ath of (eaceable neighborhoods $ith narro$ treeElined streets. This is the 4rague she loves& not the sum(tuous one do$nto$n9 the 4rague born at the turn of the (revious century& the 4rague of the 2Aech lo$er middle class& the 4rague of her childhood& $here in $intertime she $ould s"i u( and do$n the hilly little lanes& the 4rague $here at dus" the encircling forests $ould steal into to$n to s(read their fragrance. =reamily she $al"s on9 for a fe$ seconds she catches a glim(se of 4aris& $hich for the first time she feels has something hostile about it3 chilly geometry of the avenues9 (ridefulness of the 2ham(sE+lysees9 stern countenances of the giant stone $omen re(resenting +5uality or 1raternity9 8<? 8<< and no$here& no$here& a single touch of this "indly intimacy& a single $hiff of this idyll she inhales here. In fact& throughout all her years as an emigre& this is the (icture she has harbored as the emblem of her lost country3 little houses in gardens stretching a$ay out of sight over rolling land. 0he felt ha((y in 4aris& ha((ier than here& but only 4rague held her by a secret bond of beauty. 0he suddenly understands ho$ much she loves this city and ho$ (ainful her de(arture from it must have been. 0he recalls those final feverish days3 in the confusion of the early months of the #ussian occu(ation& leaving the country $as still easy to do& and they could say goodbye to their friends $ithout fear. But they had too little time to see all of them. 7n a momentary im(ulse& t$o days before they left they $ent to visit an old friend& a bachelor& and s(ent some emotional hours $ith him. 7nly later& in 1rance& did they learn that the reason this man had been so attentive to them over time $as that the (olice had selected him to inform on Martin. The day before they left& she rang a friend*s doorbell $ithout having (honed ahead. 0he found her in a dee( discussion $ith another 8<> $oman. 0aying nothing herself& she listened for a long time to a conversation of no concern to her& $aiting for some gesture& an encouraging $ord& a goodbye9 in vain. -ad they forgotten she $as leaving) 7r $ere they (retending to forget) 7r $as it that neither her (resence nor her absence mattered to them anymore) !nd her mother. !s they $ere leaving& she did not "iss Irena. 0he "issed Martin& but not her. Irena she s5ueeAed hard on the shoulder as she uttered in her resonant voice3 "'e don*t go in for dis(laying our feelings:" The $ords $ere su((osed to sound gruff and manly& but they $ere chilling. #emembering no$ all those fare$ells Bfa"e fare$ells& $or"edEu( fare$ellsC& Irena thin"s3 a (erson $ho messes u( her goodbyes shouldn*t e@(ect much from her reunions. By no$ she*s been $al"ing for a good t$o or three hours in those leafy neighborhoods. 0he reaches a (ara(et at the end of a little (ar" above 4rague3 the vie$ from here is of the rear of -radEcany 2astle& the secret side9 this is a 4rague $hose e@istence 6ustaf doesn*t sus(ect9 and instantly there come rushing the names she loved as a young girl3 Macha& (oet at the time $hen his 8<D

nation& a $ater s(rite& $as ;ust emerging from the mists9 %an .eruda& the storyteller of ordinary 2Aech fol"9 the songs of Gos"ovec and 'erich from the 8J<Ks& so loved by her father& $ho died $hen she $as a child9 -rabal and 0"vorec"y& novelists of her adolescence9 and the little theaters and cabarets of the si@ties& so free& so merrily free& $ith their sassy humor9 it $as the incommunicable scent of this country& its intangible essence& that she had brought along $ith her to 1rance. Leaning on the (ara(et& she loo"s over at the 2astle3 it*s no more than fifteen minutes a$ay. The 4rague of the (ostcards begins there& the 4rague that a frenAied history stam(ed $ith its multi(le stigmata& the 4rague of tourists and $hores& the 4rague of restaurants so e@(ensive that her 2Aech friends can*t set foot in them& the bellyEdancer 4rague $rithing in the s(otlight& 6ustaf*s 4rague. 0he reflects that there is no (lace more alien to her than that 4rague. 6ustafto$n. 6ustafville. 6ustafstadt. 6ustafgrad. 6ustaf3 she sees him& his features blurred through the clouded $indo$(ane of a language she barely "no$s& and she thin"s& almost ;oyfully& 8<F that it*s fine this $ay because the truth is finally revealed3 she feels no need to understand him or to have him understand her. 0he (ictures his ;ovial figure& dressed u( in his TEshirt& shouting that Kaf"a $as born in 4rague& and she feels a desire rising through her body& the irre(ressible desire to ta"e a lover. .ot to (atch u( her life as it is: But to turn it com(letely u(side do$n. 1inally ta"e (ossession of her o$n fate. 1or she has never chosen any of her men. 0he $as al$ays the one being chosen. Martin she came to love& but at the start he $as ;ust a $ay to esca(e her mother. In her liaison $ith 6ustaf she thought she $as gaining freedom. But no$ she sees that it $as only a variant of her relation $ith Martin3 she seiAed an outstretched hand& and it (ulled her out of difficult circumstances that she $as unable to handle. 0he "no$s she is good at gratitude9 she has al$ays (rided herself on that as her (rime virtue9 $hen gratitude re5uired it& a feeling of love $ould come running li"e a docile servant. 0he $as sincerely devoted to Martin9 she $as sincerely devoted to 6ustaf. But $as that something to be (roud of) Isn*t gratitude sim(ly another name for 8<H $ea"ness& for de(endency) 'hat she $ants no$ is love $ith no gratitude to it at all: !nd she "no$s that a love li"e that has to be bought by some daring& ris"y act. 1or she has never been daring in her love life& she didn*t even "no$ $hat that meant. 0uddenly& li"e a gust of $ind3 the highEs(eed (arade of old emigrationEdreams& old an@ieties3 she sees $omen rush u(& surround her and& $aving beer mugs and laughing falsely& "ee( her from esca(ing9 she is in a sho( $here other $omen& salesgirls& dart over to her& (ut her into a dress that& once on her body& turns into a strait;ac"et. 1or another long $hile she goes on leaning on the (ara(et& then she straightens u(. 0he is suffused $ith the certainty that she $ill esca(e9 that she $ill not stay on in this city9 neither in this city nor in the life this city is $eaving for her. 0he moves on& and she reflects that today she is finally carrying out the fare$ell $al" she failed to ta"e last time9 she is finally saying her 6reat 1are$ells to the city that she loves more than any other and that she is (re(ared to lose once again& $ithout regret& to be $orthy of a life of her o$n. 8<I <I 'hen 2ommunism de(arted from +uro(e& %osef*s $ife "e(t (ressing him to go see his country again. 0he intended to go $ith him. But she died& and from then on all he could thin" about $as his ne$ life $ith the absent $oman. -e tried hard to (ersuade himself that it $as a ha((y life. But is "ha((iness" the right $ord) /es9 ha((iness li"e a frail& tremulous ray gleaming through his grief& a resigned& calm& unremitting grief. ! month

earE-er& unable to sha"e the sadness& he recalled the $ords of his deceased $ife3 ".ot going $ould be unnatural of you& un;ustifiable& even foul"9 actuE ally& he thought& this tri( she had so urged on him might (ossibly be some hel( to him no$9 might divert him& for a fe$ days at least& from his o$n life& $hich $as giving him such (ain. !s he (re(ared for the tri(& an idea tentatively crossed his mind3 $hat if he $ere to stay over there for good) !fter all& he could be a veterinarian as easily in Bohemia as in =enmar". Till then the idea had seemed unacce(table& almost li"e a betrayal of the $oman he loved. But he $ondered3 8<J $ould it really be a betrayal) If his $ife*s (resence is nonmaterial& $hy should she be bound to the materiality of one (articular (lace) 2ouldn*t she be $ith him in Bohemia ;ust as $ell as in =enmar") -e has left the hotel and is driving around in the car9 he has lunch in a country inn9 then he ta"es a $al" through the fields9 narro$ lanes& $ild roses& trees& trees9 oddly moved& he gaAes at the $ooded hills on the horiAon& and it occurs to him that t$ice in his o$n lifetime& the 2Aechs $ere $illing to die to "ee( that landsca(e their o$n9 in 8J<I they $anted to fight -itler9 $hen their allies& the 1rench and the +nglish& "e(t them from doing so& they $ere in des(air. In 8JFI the #ussians invaded the country& and again they $anted to fight9 condemned to the same ca(itulation& they fell bac" into that same des(air again. To be $illing to die for one*s country3 every nation has "no$n that tem(tation to sacrifice. Indeed& the 2Aechs* adversaries also "ne$ it3 the 6ermans& the #ussians. But those are large nations. Their (atriotism is different3 they are buoyed by their glory& their im(ortance& their universal mission. The 2Aechs loved their country not because it $as glorious but because it $as 8>K un"no$n9 not because it $as big but because it $as small and in constant danger. Their (atriotism $as an enormous com(assion for their country. The =anes are li"e that too. .ot by chance did %osef choose a small country for his emigration. Much moved& he gaAes out over the landsca(e and reflects that the history of his Bohemia during this (ast half century is fascinating& uni5ue& un(recedented& and that failing to ta"e an interest in it $ould be narro$minded. Tomorro$ morning& he*ll be seeing .. 'hat "ind of life did the man have during all the time they $ere out of touch) 'hat had he thought about the #ussian occu(ation of the country) !nd $hat $as it li"e for him to see the end of the 2ommunism he used to believe in& sincerely and honorably) -o$ is his Mar@ist bac"ground ad;usting to the return of this ca(italism that*s being cheered along by the entire (lanet) Is he rebelling against it) 7r has he abandoned his convictions) !nd if he*s abandoned them& is that a crisis for him) !nd ho$ are other (eo(le behaving to$ard him) %osef can hear the voice of his sisterEinE la$ $ho& huntress of the guilty& $ould certainly li"e to see .. handcuffed in court. =oesn*t .. need %osef to tell him that 8>8 friendshi( does e@ist des(ite all of history*s contortions) %osef*s thoughts return to his sisterEinEla$3 she hated the 2ommunists because they dis(uted the sacred right of (ro(erty. !nd then& he thought& she dis(utes my sacred right to my (ainting. -e imagines the (ainting on a $all in his bric" house in 2o(enhagen& and suddenly& $ith sur(rise& he realiAes that the $or"ingEclass suburb in the (icture& that 2Aech =erain& that oddity of history& $ould be a disru(tion& an intrusive (resence on the $all of that (lace. -o$ could he ever have thought of ta"ing it bac"

$ith him) That (ainting doesn*t belong there $here he lives $ith his dear deceased. -e*d never even mentioned it to her. That (ainting has nothing to do $ith her& $ith the t$o of them& $ith their life. Then he thin"s3 if one little (ainting could disru(t his life $ith the dead $oman& ho$ much more disru(tive $ould be the constant& unrelenting (resence of a $hole country& a country she never sa$: The sun di(s to$ard the horiAon9 he is in the car on the road to 4rague9 the landsca(e sli(s a$ay around him& the landsca(e of his small 8>? country $hose (eo(le $ere $illing to die for it& and he "no$s that there e@ists something even smaller& $ith an even stronger a((eal to his com(assionate love3 he sees t$o easy chairs turned to face each other& the lam( and the flo$er bo$l on the $indo$ ledge& and the slender fir tree his $ife (lanted in front of the house& a fir tree that loo"s li"e an arm she*d raised from afar to sho$ him the $ay bac" home. <J 'hen 0"acel loc"ed himself into the house of sadness for three hundred years& it $as because he e@(ected his country to be engulfed forever by the em(ire of the +ast. -e $as $rong. +veryone is $rong about the future. Man can only be certain about the (resent moment. But is that 5uite true either) 2an he really "no$ the (resent) Is he in a (osition to ma"e any ;udgment about it) 2ertainly not. 1or ho$ can a (erson $ith no "no$ledge of the future understand the meaning of the (resent) If $e do not "no$ $hat future the (resent is leading us to$ard& ho$ can $e say $hether this (resent is good or bad& $hether it deserves our concurrence& or our sus(icion& or our hatred) In 8J?8 !rnold 0choenberg declares that because of him 6erman music $ill continue to dominate the $orld for the ne@t hundred years. T$elve years later he is forced to leave 6ermany forever. !fter the $ar& in !merica& laden $ith honors& he is still convinced that his $or" $ill be celebrated forever. -e faults Igor 0travins"y for (aying too much attention to his contem(oraries and disregarding the ;udgment of the future. -e e@(ects (osterity to be his most reliable ally. In a scathing letter to Thomas Mann he loo"s to the (eriod "after t$o or three hundred years&" $hen it $ill finally become clear $hich of the t$o $as the greater& Mann or he: 0choenberg dies in 8JD8. 1or the ne@t t$o decades his $or" is hailed as the greatest of the century& venerated by the most brilliant of the young com(osers& $ho declare themselves his disci(les9 but thereafter it recedes from both concert halls and memory. 'ho (lays it no$adays& at the turn of this century) 'ho loo"s to him) .o& I don*t mean to ma"e foolish fun of his (resum(tuousness and say he overestimated himself. ! thousand times no: 0choenberg did not overestimate himself. -e overestimated the future. =id he commit an error of thin"ing) .o. -is thin"ing $as correct& but he $as living in s(heres that $ere too lofty. -e $as conversing $ith the greatest 6ermans& $ith Bach and 6oethe and Brahms and Mahler& but& ho$ever intelligent they might be& conversations carried on in the higher stratos(heres of the mind are al$ays myo(ic about $hat goes on& $ith no reason or logic& do$n belo$3 t$o great armies are battling to the death over sacred causes9 but some minuscule (lague bacterium comes along and lays them both lo$. 0choenberg $as a$are that the bacterium e@isted. !s early as 8J<K he $rote3 "#adio is an enemy& a ruthless enemy marching irresistibly for$ard& and any resistance is ho(eless"9 it "forceEfeeds us music . . . regardless of $hether $e $ant to hear it& or $hether $e can gras( it&" $ith the result that music becomes ;ust noise& a noise among other noises. #adio $as the tiny stream it all began $ith. Then came other technical means for

re(roducing& (roliferating& am(lifying sound& and the stream became an enormous river. If in the (ast (eo(le $ould listen to music out of love for music& no$adays it roars every$here and all the time& "regardless $hether $e $ant to hear it&" it roars from louds(ea"ers& in cars& in restaurants& in elevators& in the streets& in $aiting rooms& in gyms& in the ear(ieces of 'al"mans& music re$ritten& reorchestrated& abridged& and stretched out& fragments of roc"& of ;aAA& of o(era& a flood of everything ;umbled together so that $e don*t "no$ $ho com(osed it Bmusic become noise is anonymousC& so that $e can*t tell beginning from end Bmusic become noise has no formC3 se$ageE $ater music in $hich music is dying. 0choenberg sa$ the bacterium& he $as a$are of the danger& but dee( inside he did not grant it much im(ortance. !s I said& he $as living in the very lofty s(heres of the mind& and (ride "e(t him from ta"ing seriously an enemy so small& so vulgar& so re(ugnant& so contem(tible. The only great adversary $orthy of him& the sublime rival $hom he battled $ith verve and severity& $as Igor 0travins"y. That $as the music he charged at& s$ord flashing& to $in the favor of the future. But the future $as a river& a flood of notes $here com(osers* cor(ses drifted among the fallen leaves and tornEa$ay branches. 7ne day 0choenberg*s dead body& bobbing about in the raging $aves& collided $ith 0travins"y*s& and in a shamefaced lateEday reconciliation the t$o of them ;ourneyed on together to$ard nothingness Bto$ard the nothingness of music that is absolute dinC. >K To recall3 $hen Irena sto((ed $ith her husband on the emban"ment of the river running through a 1rench (rovincial to$n& she had seen felled trees on the far ban" and at the same moment $as hit by a sudden volley of music loosed from a louds(ea"er. 0he had cla((ed her hands over her ears and burst into tears. ! fe$ months later she $as at home $ith her dying husband. 1rom the ne@t a(artment music thundered. T$ice she rang the doorbell and begged the neighbors to turn off the sound system& and t$ice in vain. 1inally she 8>F 8>H shouted3 "0to( that hideous rac"et: My husband is dying: =o you hear) =ying: =ying:" =uring her first fe$ years in 1rance& she used to listen a lot to the radio& for it ac5uainted her $ith 1rench language and life& but after Martin died& because of the music she had come to disli"e& she no longer too" (leasure in it9 the ne$s did not follo$ in se5uence as it used to& instead the re(orts $ere set a(art by three seconds& or eight or fifteen seconds& of that music& and year by year those little interludes s$elled insidiously. 0he thereby gre$ intimately ac5uainted $ith $hat 0choenberg called "music become noise." 0he is lying on the bed alongside 6ustaf9 overe@cited at the (ros(ect of her rendeAvous& she fears for her slee(9 she already s$allo$ed one slee(ing tablet& she dro$sed off and& $a"ing in the middle of the night& she too" another t$o& then out of des(air& out of nervousness& she turned on a little radio beside her (illo$. To get bac" to slee( she $ants to hear a human voice& some tal" that $ill seiAe her thoughts& carry her off to another (lace& calm her do$n& and (ut her to slee(9 she s$itches from station to station& but only music (ours out from every$here& se$ageE $ater music& fragments of roc"& of ;aAA& of o(era& and it*s a $orld $here she can*t tal" to anybody because everybody*s singing and yelling& a $orld $here nobody tal"s to her because everybody*s (rancing around and dancing. 7n the one side the se$ageE$ater music& on the other a snore& and Irena& besieged&

yearns for o(en s(ace around her& a s(ace to breathe& but she stumbles over the (ale inert body that fate has dro((ed into her (ath li"e a sac" of sludge. 0he is gri((ed by a fresh surge of hatred for 6ustaf& not because his body is neglecting hers B!h& no: she could never ma"e love $ith him again:C but because his snores are "ee(ing her a$a"e and she*s in danger of ruining the encounter of her life& the encounter that is to ta"e (lace soon& in about eight hours& for morning is coming on& but slee( is not& and she "no$s she*s going to be tired& edgy& her face made ugly and old. 1inally the intensity of her hatred acts as a narcotic& and she falls aslee(. 'hen she $a"es& 6ustaf has already gone out& $hile the little radio by her (illo$ is still emitting the music become noise. 0he has a headache and feels $orn out. 0he $ould $illingly stay in bed& but Milada said she 8>I 8>J $ould be coming by at ten o*cloc". But $hy is she coming today) Irena hasn*t the slightest desire to be $ith anyone at all: >8 Built on a slo(e& the house sho$ed ;ust one of its stories at street level. 'hen the door o(ened %osef $as assailed by the amorous onslaught of a huge 6erman she(herd. 7nly after a $hile did he catch sight of ..& laughing as he 5uieted the dog and led %osef along a hall$ay and do$n a long stair$ay to a t$oEroom garden a(artment $here he lived $ith his 'ife9 she $as there& friendly& and she offered her hand. "U(stairs&" .. said& (ointing to the ceiling& "the a(artments are much roomier. My daughter and son live there $ith their families. The villa belongs to my son. -e*s a la$yer. Too bad he*s not home. Listen&" he said& dro((ing his voice& "if you $ant to come bac" here to live& he*ll hel( you& he*ll ta"e care of things for you." These $ords reminded %osef of the day forty 8DK years earlier $hen& in that same voice lo$ered to indicate secrecy& .. had offered his friendshi( and his hel(. "I told them about you&" .. $ent on& and he shouted to$ard the stair$ell several names that must have belonged to his (rogeny9 $hen %osef sa$ all those grandchildren and greatEgrandchildren coming do$n the stairs& he had no idea $hose they $ere. !nyho$& they $ere all beautiful& stylish B%osef couldn*t tear his eyes off a blond& the girlfriend of one of the grandsons& a 6erman girl $ho s(o"e not a $ord of 2AechC& and all of them& even the girls& loo"ed taller than ..9 among them he $as li"e a rabbit caught in a tangle of $eeds visibly s(ringing u( around and above him. Li"e fashion models strutting a run$ay& they smiled $ordlessly until .. as"ed them to leave him alone $ith his friend. -is $ife stayed indoors& and the t$o men $ent out into the garden. The dog follo$ed them& and .. remar"ed3 "I*ve never seen him so e@cited by a visitor. It*s as if he "no$s $hat you do for a living." Then he sho$ed %osef some fruit trees and described his labors laying out the grassy (lots set off by narro$ (ath$ays& so that for some time the conversation 8D8 stayed distant from the sub;ects %osef had vo$ed to raise9 finally he managed to interru(t his friend*s botanical lecture and as" him about his life during the t$enty years they had not seen each other. "Let*s not tal" about it&" said ..& and in ans$er to %osef*s in5uiring loo"& he laid an inde@ finger on his heart. %osef did not understand the meaning of the gesture3 $as it that the (olitical events had affected him so (rofoundly& "to the heart)" or had he gone through a serious love affair) or had a heart attac")

"0omeday I*ll tell you about it&" he added& turning aside any discussion. The conversation $as not easy9 $henever %osef sto((ed $al"ing to sha(e a 5uestion better& the dog too" it as (ermission to ;um( u( and set his (a$s on %osef*s belly. "I remember $hat you al$ays used to say&" .. remar"ed. "That a (erson becomes a doctor because he*s interested in diseases9 he becomes a veterinarian out of love for animals." "=id I really say that)" %osef as"ed& amaAed. -e remembered that t$o days earlier he had told his sisterEinEla$ that he*d chosen his (rofession as 8D? a rebellion against his family. 0o had he acted out of love& and not rebellion) In a single vague cloud he sa$ filing (ast him all the sic" animals he had "no$n9 then he sa$ his veterinary clinic at the bac" of his bric" house& $here tomorro$ Byes& in e@actly t$entyE four hours:C he $ould o(en the door to greet the day*s first (atient9 a slo$ smile s(read across his face. -e had to force himself bac" to the conversation barely begun3 he as"ed $hether .. had been attac"ed for his (olitical (ast9 .. said no9 according to him& (eo(le "ne$ he had al$ays hel(ed those the regime $as giving trouble. "I don*t doubt it&" %osef said Bhe really didn*tC& but he (ressed on3 ho$ did .. himself see his $hole (ast life) !s a mista"e) !s a defeat) .. shoo" his head& saying that it $as neither the one nor the other. !nd finally %osef as"ed $hat .. thought of the very s$ift& harsh reestablishment of ca(italism. 0hrugging& .. re(lied that under the circumstances there $as no other solution. .o& the conversation never managed to get going. %osef thought at first that .. found his 5uestions indiscreet. Then he corrected himself3 not so much indiscreet as outdated. If his sisterE 8D< inEla$*s vindictive dream should come true and .. $ere indicted and tried in court& maybe he $ould reassess his 2ommunist (ast to e@(lain and defend it. But in the absence of any such trial& that (ast $as remote from him these days. -e didn*t live there anymore. %osef recalled a very old idea of his& $hich at the time he had considered to be blas(hemous3 that adherence to 2ommunism has nothing to do $ith Mar@ and his theories9 it $as sim(ly that the (eriod gave (eo(le a $ay to fulfill the most diverse (sychological needs3 the need to loo" nonconformist9 or the need to obey9 or the need to (unish the $ic"ed9 or the need to be useful9 or the need to march for$ard into the future $ith youth9 or the need to have a big family around you. In good s(irits& the dog bar"ed and %osef said to himself3 the reason (eo(le are 5uitting 2ommunism today is not that their thin"ing has changed or undergone a shoc"& but that 2ommunism no longer (rovides a $ay to loo" nonconformist or obey or (unish the $ic"ed or be useful or march for$ard $ith youth or have a big family around you. The 2ommunist creed no longer ans$ers any need. It has become so unusable that everyone dro(s it easily& never even noticing. 0till& the original goal of his visit $as unfulfilled3 to ma"e it clear to .. that in some imaginary courtroom he& %osef& $ould defend him. To achieve this he $ould first sho$ .. that he $as not blindly enthusiastic about the $orld that had s(rung u( here since 2ommunism& and he described the big advertisement on the s5uare bac" in his hometo$n& in $hich an incom(rehensible acronymEagency (ro(oses its services to the 2Aechs by sho$ing them a $hite hand and a blac" hand clas(ed together3 "Tell me&" he said. "Is this still our country)"

-e e@(ected to hear a sarcastic res(onse about $orld$ide ca(italism homogeniAing the (lanet& but .. $as silent. %osef $ent on3 "The 0oviet em(ire colla(sed because it could no longer hold do$n the nations that $anted their inde(endence. But those nations they*re less inde(endent than ever no$. They can*t choose their o$n economy or their o$n foreign (olicy or even their o$n advertising slogans." ".ational inde(endence has been an illusion for a long time no$&" said .. "But if a country is not inde(endent and doesn*t even $ant to be& $ill anyone still be $illing to die for it)" "Being $illing to die isn*t $hat I $ant for my children." "I*ll (ut it another $ay3 does anyone still love this country)" .. slo$ed his ste(s3 "%osef&" he said& touched. "-o$ could you ever have emigrated) /ou*re a (atriot:" Then& very seriously3 "=ying for your country that*s all finished. Maybe for you time sto((ed during your emigration. But they they don*t thin" li"e you anymore." "'ho)" .. ti((ed his head to$ard the u((er floors of the house& as if to indicate his brood. "They*re some$here else."

>? =uring these remar"s the t$o friends came to a halt9 the dog too" advantage of it3 he reared u( and set his (a$s on %osef& $ho (etted him. .. contem(lated this manEdog cou(le for a time& increasingly touched. !s if he $ere only ;ust no$ ta"ing full account of the t$enty years they hadn*t seen each other3 "!h& I*m so ha((y you came:" -e ta((ed %osef on the shoulder and dre$ him over to sit beneath an a((le tree. !nd at once %osef "ne$3 the serious& im(ortant conversation he had come for $ould not ta"e (lace. !nd to his sur(rise& that $as a comfort& it $as a liberation: !fter all& he hadn*t come here to (ut his friend through an interrogation: !s if a loc" had clic"ed o(en& their conversation too" off& freely and agreeably& a chat bet$een t$o old (als3 a fe$ scattered memories& ne$s of mutual friends& funny comments& and (arado@es and ;o"es. It $as as if a gentle& $arm& (o$erful breeAe had ta"en him u( in its arms. %osef felt an irre(ressible ;oy in tal"ing. !h& such an une@(ected ;oy: 1or t$enty years he had barely s(o"en 2Aech. 2onversation $ith his $ife $as easy& =anish having turned into a (rivate ;argon for themselves. But $ith other (eo(le he $as al$ays conscious of choosing his $ords& constructing a sentence& $atching his accent. It seemed to him that $hen =anes tal"ed they $ere running nimbly& $hile he $as trudging along behind& lugging a t$entyE"ilo load. .o$& though& the $ords lea(ed from his mouth on their o$n& $ithout his having to hunt for them& monitor them. 2Aech $as no longer the un"no$n language $ith the nasal timbre that had startled him at the hotel in his hometo$n. -e recogniAed it no$& and he savored it. Using it& he felt light& li"e after a diet. Tal"ing $as li"e flying& and for the first time in his visit he $as ha((y in his homeland and felt that it $as his. 0timulated by the (leasure beaming from his friend& .. gre$ more and more rela@ed9 $ith a com(licitous grin he mentioned his longEago secret mistress and than"ed %osef for having once served as an alibi for him $ith his $ife. %osef did not recall the e(isode and $as sure .. $as confusing him $ith someone else. But the alibi story& $hich too" .. a long time to tell& $as so fine& so funny& that %osef ended u( ac5uiescing in his su((osed role as (rotagonist. -e sat $ith his head tilted bac"& and through the leaves the sun lighted a beatific smile on his face. It $as in this state of $ellEbeing that ..*s $ife sur(rised them3 "/ou*ll have lunch $ith

us)" -e loo"ed at his $atch and stood u(. "I*ve got an a((ointment in half an hour:" "Then come bac" tonight: 'e*ll have dinner together&" .. urged $armly. "Tonight I*ll already be bac" home:" "By *bac" home* you mean " "In =enmar"." "It*s so strange to hear you say that. 0o then this isn*t home to you anymore)" as"ed ..*s $ife. ".o. It*s there." There $as a long silence and %osef e@(ected 5uestions3 If =enmar" really is your home& $hat*s your life li"e there) !nd $ith $hom) Tell about it: Tell us: =escribe your house: 'ho*s your $ife) !re you ha((y) Tell us: Tell us: But neither .. nor his $ife as"ed any such 5uestion. 1or a moment& a lo$ $ooden fence and a fir tree flic"ered across %osef*s mind. "I must go&" he said& and they all moved to$ard the stairs. !s they climbed& they $ere 5uiet& and in that silence %osef $as suddenly struc" by his $ife*s absence9 there $as not a trace of her here. In the three days he*d s(ent in this country& no one had said a single $ord about her. -e understood3 if he stayed here& he $ould lose her. If he stayed here& she $ould vanish. They sto((ed on the side$al" outside& shoo" hands once again& and the dog leaned his (a$s on %osef*s belly. Then the three of them $atched %osef move a$ay until he vanished from their sight. >< 'hen after so many years she sa$ Irena at the restaurant among other $omen& Milada $as over Ecome by tenderness for her9 one detail in (articular enchanted her3 Irena recited a verse by %an 0"acel. In the little land of Bohemia& it is an easy thing to meet and a((roach a (oet. Milada had "no$n 0"acel& a thic"set man $ith a hard face that loo"ed chi((ed out of roc"& and she had adored him $ith the naivete of a very young girl from another time. .o$ his collected (oems have ;ust been (ublished in a single volume& and Milada has brought it as a gift to her friend. Irena leafs through the boo"3 "=o (eo(le still read (oetry these days)" "-ardly at all&" says Milada& and then she recites a fe$ lines by heart3 " *!t noon& sometimes& you can see the night moving off to$ard the river....* 7r listen to this3 *. . . (onds& $ater laid flat on its bac".* 7r there are some evenings& 0"acel says& $hen the air is so soft and fragile that *you can $al" barefoot on bro"en glass.*" Listening to her& Irena remembers sudden 8FK a((aritions that used to s(ring $ithout $arning into her head during the early years of her emigration. They $ere fragments of that very landsca(e. "7r this image3 *.. . on horsebac"& death and a (eacoc" ...*" Milada recited the $ords in a voice that trembled faintly3 they al$ays called u( this vision3 a horse moving across fields9 on its bac" a s"eleton $ith a scythe in hand& and behind& riding (illion& a (eacoc" $ith tail unfurled& s(lendid and shimmering li"e vanity eternal. Irena gaAes gratefully at Milada& the one friend she has found in this country9 she gaAes at her round (retty face made rounder yet by her hairstyle9 because Milada is silent no$& lost in thought& her $rin"les have vanished in the immobility of her s"in and she loo"s li"e a young $oman9 Irena ho(es she $ill not s(ea"& not recite (oetry& $ill stay motionless and beautiful for a long $hile. "/ou*ve al$ays $orn your hair that $ay& haven*t you) I*ve never seen you $ith any other hairstyle." !s if to sideste( the to(ic& Milada said3 "0o& are you finally going to ma"e a decision

someday)" 8F8 "/ou "no$ very $ell that 6ustaf has offices in 4rague and 4aris both:" "But as I understand it& 4rague is $here he*d li"e to live." "Listen& commuting bac" and forth bet$een 4aris and 4rague is fine $ith me. I have my $or" in both (laces& 6ustaf is my only boss& $e manage& $e im(rovise." "'hat is it that holds you in 4aris) /our daughters)" ".o. I don*t $ant to cling to their lives." "-ave you got somebody there)" ".obody." Then3 "My o$n a(artment." Then3 "My inde(endence." !nd again& slo$ly3 "I*ve al$ays had the sense that my life is run by other (eo(le. +@ce(t for a fe$ years after Martin died. Those $ere the toughest years& I $as alone $ith my children& I had to co(e by myself. 2om(lete (overty. /ou $on*t believe this& but no$adays $hen I loo" bac"& those are my ha((iest years." 0he is shoc"ed& herself& at having called "ha((iest" the years after her husband*s death& and she corrects herself3 "'hat I mean is& that $as the one time I $as master of my o$n life." 8F? 0he sto(s. Milada does not brea" the silence& and Irena goes on3 "I married very young& solely to esca(e from my mother. But for ;ust that reason& it $as a decision that $as forced& not really free. !nd on to( of it& to esca(e my mother I married a man $ho $as an old friend of hers. Because the only (eo(le I "ne$ $ere her cro$d. 0o even married& I $as still under her $atchful eye." "-o$ old $ere you)" "%ust turned t$enty. !nd from then on& everything $as determined once and for all. I made one mista"e then& a mista"e that*s hard to define and im(ossible to gras(& but one that determined my entire life and that I never managed to re(air." "!n irre(arable mista"e committed at the age of ignorance." "/es." "That*s the age (eo(le marry& have their first child& choose a (rofession. +ventually $e come to "no$ and understand a lot of things& but it*s too late& because a $hole life has already been determined at a stage $hen $e didn*t "no$ a thing." "/es& yes:" Irena agrees& "even my emigration: That $as also ;ust the conse5uence of my earlier decisions. I emigrated because the secret (olice 8F< $ouldn*t leave Martin alone. -e couldn*t go on living here. But I could have. I stood by my husband& and I don*t regret it. But still& my emigrating $asn*t my o$n doing& my decision& my freedom& my fate. My mother (ushed me to$ard Martin& and Martin too" me abroad." "/es& I remember. The decision $as made $ithout you." "+ven my mother didn*t ob;ect." "Luite the contrary& it suited her fine." "'hat do you mean) The house)" "+verything*s a matter of (ro(erty." "/ou*re turning bac" into a Mar@ist&" says Irena $ith a slight smile. "-ave you noticed ho$ after forty years of 2ommunism& the bourgeoisie landed on its feet again in ;ust a fe$ days) They survived in a thousand $ays some of them ;ailed& some thro$n out of their ;obs& others $ho even did very nicely& had brilliant careers& ambassadors& (rofessors. .o$ their sons and grandsons are bac" together again& a "ind of secret fraternity& they*ve ta"en over the ban"s& the ne$s(a(ers& the (arliament& the government." "/ou really still are a 2ommunist." "The $ord doesn*t mean a thing anymore. But it*s true I am still a girl from a (oor

family." 0he (auses& and various images go through her head3 a girl from a (oor family in love $ith a boy from a rich family9 a young $oman loo"ing to 2ommunism to find meaning for her life9 after 8JFI a mature $oman $ho embraces the dissident movement and suddenly discovers a $orld far broader than before3 not only 2ommunists turning against the 4arty& but also (riests and former (olitical (risoners and do$ngraded members of the high bourgeoisie. !nd then after 8JIJ& as if $a"ing from a dream& she turns bac" into $hat she $as $hen she started3 an aging girl from a (oor family. "=on*t be offended at my as"ing&" says Irena& "you*ve told me before& but I forget3 $here $ere you born)" Milada names a small city. "I*m having lunch today $ith someone from there." "'ho*s that)" -earing his name& Milada smiles3 "I see he*s still ;in@ing me. I $as ho(ing to ta"e you to lunch myself. Too bad." 8F> 8FD >> -e arrived on time but she $as already $aiting for him in the hotel lobby. -e led her into the dining room and sat her do$n across from him at the table he had reserved. !fter some tal"& she brea"s in3 "'ell& ho$ do you li"e it here) 'ould you stay on)" ".o&" he says9 then in turn he as"s3 "'hat about you) 'hat*s holding you here)" ".othing." The res(onse is so trenchant and so li"e his o$n that they both burst into laughter. Their agreement is sealed thereby& and they set to tal"ing $ith gusto& $ith gaiety. -e orders the meal& and $hen the $aiter hands him the $ine list Irena ta"es it herself3 "/ou do the meal& I*ll do the $ine:" 0he sees some 1rench $ines on the list and selects one of those3 "'ine is a matter of honor $ith me. They don*t "no$ a thing about $ine& our countrymen& and you& dulled by your barbaric 0candinavia& you "no$ even less." 0he tells him ho$ her friends refused to drin" 8FF the Bordeau@ she (rovided them3 "Imagine& a 8JID vintage: and to ma"e a (oint& to teach me a lesson in (atriotism& they dran" beer: Later on they felt sorry for me& they $ere already drun" on the beer and they "e(t on drin"ing& $ith the $ine:" 0he tells the story& she*s funny& they laugh. "The $orst thing is& they "e(t tal"ing to me about things and (eo(le I "ne$ nothing about. They refused to see that after all this time& their $orld has eva(orated from my head. They thought $ith all my memory blan"s I $as trying to ma"e myself interesting. To stand out. It $as a very strange conversation3 I*d forgotten $ho they had been9 they $eren*t interested in $ho I*d become. 2an you believe that not one (erson here has ever as"ed me a single 5uestion about my life abroad) .ot one single 5uestion: .ever: I "ee( having the sense that they $ant to am(utate t$enty years of my life from me. #eally& it does feel li"e an am(utation. I feel shortened& diminished& li"e a d$arf." -e li"es her& and he li"es her story& too. -e understands her& he agrees $ith everything she*s saying. 8FH "!nd $hat about in 1rance)" he says. "=o your friends there as" you any 5uestions)" 0he is about to say yes& but then she thin"s again9 she $ants to be (recise& and she s(ea"s slo$ly3 ".o& of course not: But $hen (eo(le s(end a lot of time together& they assume they "no$ each other. They don*t as" themselves any 5uestions and they don*t $orry about it. They*re not interested in each other& but it*s com(letely innocent. They

don*t realiAe it." "That*s true. It*s only $hen you come bac" to the country after a long absence that you notice the obvious3 (eo(le aren*t interested in one another& it*s normal." "/es& it*s normal." "But I had something else in mind. .ot about you& or about your life not you as a (erson. I $as thin"ing about your e@(erience. !bout $hat you*d seen& $hat had ha((ened to you. /our 1rench friends couldn*t have any conce(tion of that." "7h& the 1rench& you "no$ they have no need for e@(erience. 'ith them& ;udgments (recede e@(erience. 'hen $e got there& they didn*t need any information from us. They $ere already 8FI thoroughly informed that 0talinism is an evil and emigration is a tragedy. They $eren*t interested in $hat $e thought& they $ere interested in us as living (roof of $hat they thought. 0o they $ere generous to us and (roud of it. 'hen 2ommuE nism colla(sed all of a sudden& they loo"ed hard at me& an investigator*s loo". !nd after that something soured. I didn*t behave the $ay they e@(ected." 0he drin"s a little $ine9 then3 "They had really done a lot for me. They sa$ me as the embodiment of an emigre*s suffering. Then the time came for me to confirm that suffering by my ;oyous return to the homeland. !nd that confirmation didn*t ha((en. They felt du(ed. !nd so did I& because u( till then I*d thought they loved me not for my suffering but for my self." 0he tells him about 0ylvie. "0he $as disa((ointed that I didn*t rush home the first day to man the barricades in 4rague:" "'hat barricades)" "7f course there $ere none& but 0ylvie imagined there $ere. I $asn*t able to come to 4rague until a fe$ months later& after the fact& and I did stay for a $hile then. 'hen I got bac" to 4aris& I 8FJ had a terrific need to tal" to her& you "no$& I really loved her& and I $anted to tell her all about it& discuss it all& the shoc" of going bac" to your country after t$enty years& but she $asn*t so eager to see me anymore." "=id you 5uarrel)" "7h no. %ust& I $asn*t an emigre anymore. I $asn*t interesting anymore. 0o& gradually& amicably& $ith a smile& she sto((ed calling." "0o $ho*ve you got to tal" $ith) 'ho thin"s the $ay you do)" ".o one." Then3 "/ou." >D They fell silent. !nd she re(eated& her tone almost grave3 "/ou." !nd she added3 ".ot here. In 1rance. Better yet& some$here else. !ny$here." 'ith these $ords& she offered him her future. !nd although %osef has no interest in the future& he feels ha((y $ith this $oman $ho so visibly desires him. !s if he $ere $ay bac" in the (ast& bac" in the years he used to go (ic"ing u( girls in 4rague. !s if those years $ere inviting him no$ to ta"e u( the thread $here he bro"e it off. -e feels young again in the com(any of this stranger& and suddenly it seems unacce(table to cut short the afternoon for an a((ointment $ith his ste(daughter. "'ill you e@cuse me) I have to ma"e a (hone call." -e gets u( and $al"s to$ard a booth. 0he $atches his slightly stoo(ed figure as he lifts the receiver9 from that distance she sees his age more clearly. !t the 4aris air(ort he had loo"ed younger9 no$ she sees that he must be fifteen or t$enty years older than she9 li"e Martin& li"e 6ustaf. That

doesn*t dishearten her9 on the contrary it gives her the reassuring sense that ho$ever daring and ris"y it may be& this adventure fits the (attern of her life and is less mad than it seems BI note3 she feels encouraged the $ay 6ustaf did& years bac"& $hen he learned Martin*s ageC. -e has barely given his name on the (hone $hen the ste(daughter attac"s him3 "/ou*re calling to say you*re not coming." "That*s right. !fter all these years& I have so many things to do. I don*t have a minute to s(are. =o e@cuse me." "/ou leave $hen)" -e is about to say& "Tonight&" but it occurs to him that she might try to find him at the air(ort. -e lies3 "Tomorro$ morning." "!nd you have no time to see me) +ven bet$een t$o other a((ointments) +ven late tonight) I can get free $henever you say:" ".o." "I*m your $ife*s daughter& after all:" The em(hatic $ay she nearly shouts that last line reminds him of everything that used to drive him $ild in this country. -e hardens his stance and loo"s for a biting retort. 0he beats him to it3 "/ou*re not tal"ing: /ou don*t "no$ $hat to say: %ust so you "no$& Mama $arned me not to call you. 0he told me $hat ari egotist you are: 'hat a filthy little egotist:" 0he hangs u(. 'al"ing bac" to the table& he feels s(attered $ith filth. 0uddenly& illogically& a thought crosses his mind3 I*ve had a lot of $omen in this country but no sister. -e is startled by the line and by the $ord "sister"9 he slo$s his ste( to breathe in that (eaceful $ord3 "sister." It*s true& in this country he had never found any sister. "0omething un(leasant ha((en)" 8H? ".othing im(ortant&" he re(lied as he sat do$n. "But un(leasant& yes." -e is 5uiet. 0he too. -er fatigue reminds her of the sedatives from her slee(less night. -o(ing to fight it off& she (ours the last of the $ine into her glass and drin"s it. Then she lays her hand on his3 "'e*re not ha((y here. Let me buy you a drin"." They move into the bar& $here music is (laying& loud. 0he recoils& then gets hold of herself3 she does $ant some alcohol. !t the counter they each drin" a glass of cognac. -e loo"s at her3 "'hat*s the matter)" 0he nods to$ard the s(ea"ers. "The music) Let*s go to my room." >F Learning of his (resence in 4rague through Irena $as 5uite a remar"able coincidence. But by a certain age& coincidences lose their magic& no longer sur(rise& become runEofE theEmill. The memory of 8H< %osef does not disturb her. 'ith bitter humor she merely recalls that he used to en;oy scaring her $ith the threat of loneliness and that here he had ;ust condemned her to eating her midday meal alone. The $ay he tal"ed about loneliness. 4erha(s the reason the $ord lingers in her memory is because at the time it seemed so incom(rehensible3 as a girl $ith t$o brothers and t$o sisters& she detested cro$ds9 for studying& or reading& she had no room of her o$n and had a hard time finding even a corner to $ithdra$ to. 2learly they had different concerns& but she understood that in her boyfriend*s mouth the $ord

"loneliness" too" on a more abstract& a grander meaning3 going though life $ithout dra$ing anyone*s interest9 tal"ing $ithout being heard9 suffering $ithout stirring com(assion9 thus& living as she has in fact lived ever since then. In a neighborhood far from her house& she*s (ar"ed her car and starts loo"ing for a bistro. 'hen she has no one to lunch $ith& she never goes to a restaurant B$here& on an em(ty chair across the table& loneliness $ould sit do$n and $atch herC& but instead eats a sand$ich at a 8H> counter. 4assing a sho($indo$& she catches a glim(se of her o$n reflection. 0he sto(s. Loo"ing at herself is her vice& (erha(s the only one. 4retending to loo" over the merchandise& she ta"es a loo" at herself3 the bro$n hair& the blue eyes& the round outline of the face. 0he "no$s she is beautiful& has al$ays "no$n it& and it is her sole good fortune. Then she realiAes that $hat she is seeing is not only her vaguely reflected face but the $indo$ dis(lay of a butcher sho(3 a hanging carcass& severed haunches& a (ig*s head $ith a friendly& touching muAAle& and& farther into the sho(& the (luc"ed bodies of (oultry $ith their cla$s lifted& im(otently and humanly lifted& and suddenly horror shoots through her& her face crum(les& she clenches her fists and strains to banish the nightmare. Today Irena as"ed her the 5uestion she hears from time to time3 $hy she has never changed her hairstyle. .o& she never has changed it and she never $ill change it because she is beautiful only if she "ee(s $earing her hair the $ay it is arranged around her head no$. Kno$ing the chatty indiscretion of hairdressers& she found herE 8HD self one in a suburb $here there $asn*t a chance any of her friends $ould come $andering through. 0he had to guard the secret of her left ear at the cost of enormous disci(line and an elaborate system of (recautions. -o$ $as she to reconcile men*s desire $ith the desire to be beautiful in their eyes) !t first she had tried for a com(romise Bdes(erate ;ourneys abroad& $here nobody "ne$ her and no indiscretion could betray herC9 then& later on& she had gone radical and sacrificed her erotic life to her beauty. 0tanding at a bar& she slo$ly si(s a beer and eats a cheese sand$ich. 0he does not hurry9 there is nothing she must do. !ll her 0undays are li"e that3 in the afternoon she*ll read& and at night she*ll have a lonely meal at home. >H Irena felt the fatigue still dogging her. !lone in the room for a fe$ minutes& she o(ened the minibar and too" out three tiny bottles of various li5uors. 0he o(ened one and dran" it do$n. 0he sli((ed 8HF the other t$o into her (urse& $hich she laid on the night table. There she noticed a boo" in =anish3 The 7dyssey. "I thought about 7dysseus too&" she tells %osef $hen he returns. "-e $as a$ay from his country li"e you. 1or t$enty years." "T$enty years)" "/es& t$enty years e@actly." "But at least he $as (leased to be bac"." "That*s not certain. -e sa$ that his countrymen had betrayed him& and he "illed a lot of them. I don*t thin" he can have been much loved." "4enelo(e loved him& though." "Maybe." "/ou*re not sure)"

"I*ve read and reread the (assage on their reunion. !t first she didn*t recogniAe him. Then& $hen things $ere already clear to everyone else& $hen the suitors $ere "illed and the traitors (unished& she (ut him through ne$ tests to be sure it really $as he. 7r rather to delay the moment $hen they $ould be bac" in bed together." "That*s understandable& don*t you thin") ! 8HH (erson must be (aralyAed after t$enty years. 'as she faithful to him all that time)" "0he couldn*t hel( but be. !ll eyes on her. T$enty years of chastity. Their night of lovema"Eing must have been difficult. I imagine that over those t$enty years& 4enelo(e*s organs $ould have tightened& shrun"." "0he $as li"e me:" "'hat)" ".o& don*t $orry:" she e@claims& laughing. "I*m not tal"ing about mine: They haven*t shrun":" !nd& suddenly giddy $ith the e@(licit mention of her se@ organs& her voice lo$er& she slo$ly re(eats the last sentence translated into dirty $ords. !nd then yet again& in a voice lo$er yet& in $ords yet more obscene. -o$ une@(ected: -o$ into@icating: 1or the first time in t$enty years& he hears those dirty 2Aech $ords and instantly he is aroused to a degree he has never been since he left this country& because all those $ords coarse& dirty& obscene only have (o$er over him in his native language Bin the language of IthacaC& since it is through that language& through its dee( roots& 8HI that the arousal of generations and generations surges u( in him. Until this moment these t$o have not even "issed. !nd no$ thrillingly& magnificently aroused& in a matter of seconds they begin to ma"e love. Their accord is total& for she too is aroused by the $ords she has neither said nor heard for so many years. ! total accord in an e@(losion of obscenities: !h& ho$ im(overished her life has been: !ll the vices missed out on& all the infidelities left unrealiAed all of that she is avid to e@(erience. 0he $ants to e@(erience everything she ever imagined and never e@(erienced& voyeurism& e@hibitionism& the indecent (resence of other (eo(le& verbal enormities9 everything she can no$ do she tries to do& and $hat cannot be done she imagines $ith him aloud. Their accord is total& for dee( do$n %osef "no$s Band he may even $ant it soC that this erotic session is his last9 he too is ma"ing love as if he ho(es to sum u( everything& his (ast adventures and those that $ill no longer ha((en. 1or each of them it is a tour through se@ual life at high s(eed3 the daring moves that lovers come to only after many encounters& if not many years& they 8HJ accom(lish in a rush& the one stimulating the other& as if they ho(e to com(ress into one single afternoon everything they have missed and are going to miss. Then& $inded& they lie side by side on their bac"s& and she says3 "!h& it*s years since I*ve made love: /ou $on*t believe me& it*s years since I*ve made love:" That sincerity moves him& strangely& dee(ly9 he shuts his eyes. 0he ta"es advantage of the moment to lean over to her (urse and sli( a tiny bottle out of it9 s$iftly& discreetly& she drin"s. -e o(ens his eyes3 "=on*t drin"& don*t: /ou*ll be drun":" "Leave me alone:" she defends herself. 1eeling the fatigue that $on*t be driven off& she*ll do $hatever it ta"es to hold onto her fully $a"ened senses. That is $hy& even though he*s $atching& she em(ties the third little bottle and then as if to e@(lain herself& as if to e@cuse herself& she re(eats that she hasn*t made love for a long $hile& and this

time she says it in dirty $ords from her native Ithaca and again the magic of the obscenity arouses %osef and he begins again to ma"e love to her. 8IK In Irena*s head the alcohol (lays a double role3 it frees her fantasy& encourages her boldness& ma"es her sensual& and at the same time it dims her memory. 0he ma"es love $ildly& lasciviously& and at the same time the curtain of oblivion $ra(s her le$dnesses in an allEconcealing dar"ness. !s if a (oet $ere $riting his greatest (oem $ith in" that instantly disa((ears. >I The mother set the dis" into a big (layer and (ressed several buttons to (rogram the (ieces she li"ed& then she (lunged into the bathtub& and& $ith the door left o(en& she listened to the music. It $as her (ersonal selection of four dance (ieces& a tango& a $altA& a 2harleston& a roc"EandEroll& $hich through the machine*s technical (ro$ess (layed over and over endlessly $ith no further intervention. 0he stood u( in the tub& $ashed at length& ste((ed out& to$eled herself do$n& sli((ed on her robe& and $al"ed into the living room. Then 6ustaf arrived after a long lunch 8I8 $ith some 0$edes (assing through 4rague& and he as"ed her $here Irena $as. 0he ans$ered Bmi@ing bad +nglish $ith some 2Aech& sim(lified for his sa"eC3 "0he (honed. 0he $on*t be bac" till late tonight. -o$ $as lunch)" "Much too much:" "-ave a digestive&" and she (oured some li5ueur into t$o glasses. "That*s something I never turn do$n:" 6ustaf e@claimed& and he dran". The mother $histled the tune of the $altA and undulated her hi(s9 then& $ithout a $ord& she laid her hands on 6ustaf*s shoulders and did a fe$ dance ste(s $ith him. "/ou*re in a magnificent mood:" said 6ustaf. "/es&" the mother ans$ered& and she $ent on dancing& her movements so overdra$n& so theatrical& that $ith short a$"$ard bursts of laughter 6ustaf e@ecuted some e@aggerated ste(s and gestures himself. -e $ent along $ith this (arodical (erformance both to (rove that he didn*t $ant to s(oil the fun and to recall& $ith bashful vanity& that he used to be an e@cellent dancer and still $as. !s they danced& the mother led him to$ard the great mirror on the 8I? $all& and the t$o of them turned their heads to $atch themselves. Then she let go of him and& $ithout touching& they im(rovised routines facing the mirror9 6ustaf $as ma"ing dancing gestures $ith his hands and& li"e her& never too" his eyes off their reflection. 0o he sa$ the mother*s hand come to settle on his crotch. The scene ta"ing (lace illustrates an immemoErial error of men3 having a((ro(riated for themselves the role of seducers& they never even consider any $omen but the ones they might desire9 the idea doesn*t occur to them that a $oman $ho is ugly or old& or $ho sim(ly stands outside their o$n erotic imaginings& might $ant to (ossess them. 0lee(ing $ith Irena*s mother $as to 6ustaf so thoroughly unthin"able& fantastical& unreal that& struc" dumb by her touch& he has no idea $hat to do3 his first refle@ is to lift her hand a$ay9 yet he does not dare9 a commandment is graven in him since his childhood3 thou shalt not be crude $ith a $oman9 so he goes on ma"ing his dancing motions and staring in stu(efaction at the hand (laced bet$een his legs. -er hand still on his crotch& the mother roc"s in 8I< (lace and "ee(s $atching herself in the mirror9 then she lets her robe ga(e o(en and 6ustaf glim(ses her o(ulent breasts and the dar" triangle belo$9 embarrassed& he feels his member s$elling.

'ithout ta"ing her eyes from the mirror& the mother finally lifts her hand a$ay& but only to sli( it into his trousers and gras( the na"ed member in her fingers. It gro$s harder and& still continuing her dance movements and gaAing at the mirror& she e@claims admiringly in her vibrant alto voice3 "7h& oh: Unbelievable: Unbelievable:" >J !s he is ma"ing love& from time to time %osef loo"s discreetly at his $atch3 t$o hours left& an hour and a half left9 this afternoon of love is fascinating& he doesn*t $ant to miss any (art of it& not a move& not a $ord& but the end is dra$ing near& ineluctable& and he must $atch the time running out. 0he too is thin"ing about the $aning time9 her le$dness is gro$ing the more rec"less and fevered& her tal" lea(s from one fantasy to another as she senses that it is already too late& that this delirium is about to end and that her future lies em(ty. 0he says another fe$ dirty $ords& but she says them in tears because& rac"ed $ith sobs& she can*t go on& she ceases all movement and (ushes him a$ay from her body. They are lying side by side& and she says3 "=on*t go today& stay a$hile." "I can*t." 0he is still for a long time& then3 "'hen $ill I see you again)" -e does not ans$er. 'ith sudden determination& she leaves the bed9 she is not crying no$9 on foot facing him& she says $ithout sentiment& abru(tly aggressive3 "Kiss me:" -e lies still& uncertain. Motionless& she $aits& staring at him $ith the $hole $eight of a life that has no future to it. Unable to stand u( to her gaAe& he ca(itulates3 he rises& a((roaches& sets his li(s on hers. 0he tastes his "iss& gauges the degree of his coldness& and says3 "/ou*re a bad man:" Then she turns to her (urse $here it lies on the night table. 0he (ulls out a small ashtray and sho$s it to him. "=o you recogniAe this)" -e ta"es the ashtray and loo"s at it. "=o you recogniAe it)" she re(eats& harsh. -e does not "no$ $hat to say. "Loo" at the inscri(tion:" It is the name of a 4rague bar. But that tells him nothing and he does not s(ea". 0he observes his discomfort $ith attentive& increasingly hostile mistrust. -e feels uneasy beneath her gaAe& and ;ust then& very briefly& there flic"ers the image of a $indo$ ledge $ith a bo$l of flo$ers beside a lighted lam(. But the image vanishes& and again he sees the hostile eyes. .o$ she understands everything3 not only has he forgotten their meeting in the bar& but the truth is $orse3 he doesn*t "no$ $ho she is: he doesn*t "no$ her: in the air(lane he did not "no$ $hom he $as tal"ing to. !nd suddenly she realiAes3 he has never addressed her by name: "/ou don*t "no$ $ho I am:" "'hat)" he says& sounding des(erately a$"$ard. Li"e a (rosecutor she says3 "Then tell me my name:" 8IF -e is silent. "'hat*s my name) Tell me my name:" ".ames don*t matter:" "/ou*ve never called me by my name: /ou don*t "no$ me:" "'hat)"

"'here did $e meet) 'ho am I)" -e $ants to calm her do$n& he ta"es her hand& she thrusts him a$ay3 "/ou don*t "no$ $ho I am: /ou (ic"ed u( a strange $oman: /ou made love $ith a stranger $ho offered herself to you: /ou too" advantage of a misunderstanding: /ou used me li"e a $hore: I $as a $hore to you& some un"no$n $hore:" 0he dro(s onto& the bed and $ee(s. -e sees the three em(ty li5uor vials scattered on the floor3 "/ou*ve had too much to drin". It*s stu(id to drin" so much:" 0he isn*t listening. 0tretched flat on her belly& her body t$itching s(asmodically& all she can thin" of is the loneliness ahead. Then& as if stric"en $ith e@haustion& she sto(s crying and turns onto her bac"& una$are as her legs s(read carelessly a(art. %osef is still standing at the foot of the bed9 he 8IH gaAes at her crotch as if he $ere gaAing into s(ace& and suddenly he sees the bric" house& $ith a fir tree. -e loo"s at his $atch. -e can stay a half hour longer at the hotel. -e has to get dressed and find a $ay to ma"e her dress as $ell. DK 'hen he slid out of her body they $ere silent& and the only thing to be heard $as the four (ieces of music re(eating endlessly. !fter a long $hile& in a distinct& almost solemn voice& as if she $ere reading out the clauses in a treaty& the mother said in her 2AechE +nglish3 "'e are strong& you and I. But $e are good& too. 'e $on*t be harming anyone. .obody $ill "no$ a thing. /ou are free. /ou can $henever you $ant. But you*re not obligated. 'ith me you are free." 0he said it this time $ithout any hint of (arody& in the most serious tone (ossible. !nd 6ustaf& serious too& ans$ers3 "/es& I understand." "'ith me you are free&" the $ords echo in him 8II for a long $hile. 1reedom3 he*d loo"ed for that in her daughter but did not find it. Irena gave herself to him $ith all the $eight of her life& $hereas he $anted to live $eightless. -e $as loo"ing to her for an esca(e& and instead she loomed before him as a challenge9 as a (uAAle9 as a feat to accom(lish9 as a ;udge to face. -e sees the body of his ne$ mistress rise from the couch9 she is standing& sho$ing her body from the bac"& the (o$erful thighs (added $ith cellulite9 that cellulite enchants him as if it e@(ressed the vitality of an undulating& 5uivering& s(ea"ing& singing& ;iggling& (reening s"in9 $hen she bends to (ic" u( her discarded robe from the floor& he cannot contain himself and& from $here he lies na"ed on the couch& he stro"es those magnificently rounded buttoc"s& he fingers that monumental& overabundant flesh $hose generous (rodigality comforts and calms him. ! feeling of (eace envelo(s him3 for the first time in his life& se@ is located a$ay from all danger& a$ay from conflict and drama& a$ay from (ersecution& a$ay from any accusation& a$ay from $orries9 he has nothing to ta"e care of& love is ta"ing care of him& love as he*s al$ays $anted it and never had it3 8IJ loveEre(ose9 loveEoblivion9 loveEdesertion9 loveEcarefreeness9 loveEmeaninglessness. The mother has gone into the bathroom& and he is alone3 a fe$ minutes ago he thought he had committed an enormous sin9 but no$ he "no$s that his act of love had nothing to do $ith a vice& $ith a transgression or a (erversion& that it $as an utterly normal thing. It is $ith her& the mother& that he ma"es u( a cou(le& a (leasantly ordinary& natural& suitable cou(le& a cou(le of serene old fol"s. 1rom the bathroom comes the sound of $ater9 he sits u( on the couch and loo"s at his $atch. In t$o hours he is

e@(ecting the son of his most recent mistress& a man& young& $ho admires him. 6ustaf $ill introduce him this evening among his business friends. -is $hole life he*s been surrounded by $omen: 'hat a (leasure& finally& to have a son: -e smiles and begins to loo" for his clothes $here they*re scattered on the floor. -e is already dressed $hen the mother returns from the bathroom& in a robe. The situation is very slightly solemn and thus embarrassing& as are all such situations $hen after the initial loveEma"ing& the lovers confront a future they are suddenly re5uired to ta"e on. The music is still (laying& and at this delicate moment& as if it ho(ed to rescue them& it shifts from roc" to tango. They obey the invitation& they come together and give over to that indolent monotone flood of sounds9 they do not thin"9 they let themselves be carried along and carried a$ay9 they dance& slo$ly and at length& $ith absolutely no (arody. D8 -er sobs $ent on for a long time& and then& as if by a miracle& they sto((ed& follo$ed by heavy breathing3 she fell aslee(9 this change $as startling and sadly laughable9 she sle(t& (rofoundly and irretrievably. 0he had not changed (osition& she $as still on her bac" $ith her legs s(read. -e $as still loo"ing at her crotch& that tiny little area that& $ith admirable economy of s(ace& (rovides for four sovereign functions3 arousal& co(ulation& (rocreation& urination. -e gaAed a long $hile at that sad (lace $ith its s(ell bro"en& and $as gri((ed by an immense& immense sadness. -e "nelt by the bed& leaning over her gently snoring head9 he felt close to this $oman9 he could imagine staying $ith her& being concerned $ith her9 they had (romised in the air(lane not to in5uire into each other*s (rivate life9 he "ne$ nothing about her& therefore& but one thing seemed clear3 0he $as in love $ith him9 (re(ared to go off $ith him& to give u( everything& to begin everything over again. -e "ne$ she $as calling on him for hel(. -e had a chance& certainly his last& to be useful& to hel( someone& and among the multitude of strangers over(o(ulating the (lanet& to find a sister. -e began to dress& discreetly& silently& so as not to $a"e her. D? !s on every 0unday evening& she $as alone in her modest im(ecuniousEscientist studio a(artment. 0he moved about the room and ate the same thing she had at noon3 cheese& butter& bread& beer. ! vegetarian& she is sentenced to such alimentary monotony. 0ince her stay at the mountain hos(ital& meat reminds her that her body could be cut 8J? u( and eaten as easily as the body of a calf. 7f course& (eo(le don*t eat human flesh& it $ould terrify them. But that terror only confirms that a man can be eaten& masticated& s$allo$ed& transmuted into e@crement. !nd Milada "no$s that the terror of being eaten is only the effect of another more general terror that lies at the foundation of all of life3 the terror of being a body& of e@isting in body form. 0he finished her dinner and $ent into the bathroom to $ash her hands. Then she loo"ed u( and sa$ herself in the mirror above the sin". This gaAe $as entirely different from the earlier one& $hen she $as observing her beauty in a sho($indo$. This time the loo" $as tense9 slo$ly she lifted the hair that framed her chee"s. 0he loo"ed at herself& as if s(ellbound& for a long& a very long time9 then she let the hair fall bac" into (lace& arranged it around her face& and returned to the room. !t the university she used to be seduced by the dreams of voyages to distant stars. 'hat (leasure to esca(e far a$ay into the universe& some(lace $here life e@(resses itself differently from here and needs no bodies: But des(ite all his amaAing roc"ets&

man $ill never (rogress very far in the 8J< universe. The brevity of his life ma"es the s"y a dar" lid against $hich he $ill forever crac" his head& to fall bac" onto earth& $here everything alive eats and can be eaten. Misery and (ride. "7n horsebac"& death and a (eacoc"." 0he $as standing at the $indo$& gaAing at the s"y. ! starless s"y& a dar" lid. D< -e (ut all his belongings into the suitcase and glanced around the room so as not to leave anything behind. Then he sat do$n at the table& and on a hotel letterhead sheet he $rote3 "0lee( $ell. The room is yours till tomorro$ at noon. ..." -e $ould have li"ed to say something very tender besides& but at the same time he $as determined not to leave her a single false $ord. 1inally& he added3 "... my sister." -e laid the sheet on the rug beside the bed to ma"e sure she $ould see it. -e (ic"ed u( the =7 .7T =I0TU#B card9 as he left he turned to loo" again at her as she sle(t& 8J> and& in the corridor& he closed the door silently and hung the card on the "nob. In the lobby from all around him he heard 2Aech being s(o"en and again no$ it $as flat and un(leasantly blase& an un"no$n language. 0ettling his bill& he said3 "There*s a $oman still in my room. 0he $ill leave later." !nd to ensure that no one $ould give her an un(leasant loo"& he laid a fiveEhundredE"orun note on the counter before the rece(tionist. -e climbed into a ta@i and left for the air(ort. It $as evening already. The (lane too" off to$ard a dar" s"y& then burro$ed into clouds. !fter a fe$ minutes the s"y o(ened out& (eaceful and friendly& stre$n $ith stars. Through the (orthole he sa$& far off in the s"y& a lo$ $ooden fence and a bric" house $ith a slender fir tree li"e a lifted arm before it. 8JD