"And what about your own life?"
"My life?"
"Yes, your own life. Doesn't it satisfy you?"
A bitter smile appeared on her face, and Eduard felt almost sorry for her at that moment. She was pitifully ugly: her black hair cast a shadow over her bony, elongated face, and the black fuzz under her nose began to look as conspicuous as a mustache. Suddenly he glimpsed all the sorrow of her life. He perceived the Gypsy-like features that revealed violent sensuality, and he perceived the ugliness that revealed the impossibility of appeasing that violence; he imagined her passionately turning into a living statue of grief upon Stalin's death, passionately sitting up late at thousands of meetings, passionately struggling against poor Jesus. And he understood that all this was merely a sad outlet for her
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desire, which could not flow where she wished it to. Eduard was young, and his inclination toward compassion had not yet vanished. He looked at the directress with understanding. She, however, as if ashamed of having involuntarily fallen silent, now assumed a brisk tone and went on: "That's not the question at all, Eduard. One doesn't live for oneself. One always lives for something." She looked deeply into his eyes: "But it's a matter of knowing for what. For something real or for something fictitious? God is a beautiful idea. But the future of man, Eduard, is a reality. And I have lived for reality; I have sacrificed everything for reality."
She spoke with such conviction, that Eduard did not stop feeling that sudden rush of understanding that had awakened in him a short while before; it struck him as stupid that he should be lying so brazenly to another human being, and it seemed to him that this intimate moment in their conversation offered him the opportunity to cast away finally his unworthy (and, moreover, difficult) deception.
"But I agree with you completely," he quickly assured her. "I too prefer reality. Don't take my piety so seriously!"
He soon learned that a man should never let himself be led astray by a rash fit of emotion. The directress looked at him in surprise and said with perceptible coldness: "Don't pretend. I liked you because you were frank. Now you're pretending to be something that you aren't."
No, Eduard was not to be permitted to step out of the
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religious costume in which he had clothed himself. He quickly reconciled himself to this and tried hard to correct the bad impression: "No, I didn't mean to be evasive. Of course I believe in God, I would never deny that. I only wanted to say that I also believe in the future of humanity, in progress and all that. If I didn't believe in that, what would my work as a teacher be for, what would children be born for, and what would our lives be for? And I've come to think that it is also God's will that society continue to advance toward something better. I have thought that a man can believe in God and in communism, that the two can be reconciled."
"No," said the directress with maternal authorita-tiveness. "The two are irreconcilable.''
"I know," said Eduard sadly. "Don't be angry with me.
"I'm not angry. You are still a young man and you obstinately stick to what you believe. No one understands you the way I do. After all I was young once too. I know what it's like to be young. And I like your youthfulness. Yes, I rather like you. ..."
And now it finally happened. Neither earlier nor later, but now, at precisely the right moment. (That right moment, as can be seen, Eduard had not chosen; it was the moment itself that made use of Eduard to make it happen.) When the directress said she rather liked him he replied, not too expressively:
"I like you too."
"Really?"
"Really."
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"Well, I never! I'm an old woman. ..." objected the directress.
"That's not true,'' Eduard had to say.
"But it is," said the directress.
"You're not at all old, that's nonsense," he had to say very resolutely.
"Do you think so?"
"Of course. I like you very much."
"Don't lie. You know you shouldn't lie."
"I'm not lying. You're pretty."
"Pretty?" The directress made a face to show that she didn't really believe it.
"Yes, pretty," said Eduard, and because he was struck by the obvious improbability of his assertion, he at once took pains to support it: "I'm mad about dark-haired women like you."
"You like dark-haired women?" asked the directress.
"I'm mad about them," said Eduard.
"And why haven't you come by all the time that you've been at the school? I had the feeling that you were avoiding me."
"I was hesitating," said Eduard. "Everyone would have said I was sucking up to you. No one would have believed that I was coming to see you only because I liked you."
"But there's nothing to be afraid of now," said the directress. "Now it's been decreed that we must see each other from time to time."
She looked into his eyes with her large brown irises (let us admit that in themselves her eyes were beauti-
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ful), and just before he left she lightly stroked his hand, so that this foolish fellow went away feeling the elation of a winner.
7
Eduard was sure that the unpleasant matter had been settled to his advantage, and the next Sunday, feeling carefree and impudent, he went to church with Alice and not only that, he went there full of self-confidence, for (although this arouses in us a compassionate smile) his visit to the directress retrospectively provided him with glaring evidence of his masculine appeal.
In addition this particular Sunday in church he noticed that Alice was somewhat different: As soon as they met she took his arm and even in church clung to him; while formerly she had behaved modestly and inconspicuously, now she kept looking around and smilingly greeted at least ten acquaintances.
This was curious, and Eduard didn't understand it.
Then two days later, as they were walking together along the streets after dark, Eduard became aware to his amazement that her kisses, once so sadly matter-of-fact, had become damp, warm, and fervent. When they stopped for a moment under a streetlight, he found her eyes looking amorously at him.
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"Let me tell you this: I love you," Alice blurted only and immediately she covered his mouth. "No, no, don't say anything. I'm ashamed of myself. I don't want to hear anything."
Again they walked a little way, again they stopped and Alice said: "Now I understand everything. I under stand why you reproached me for being too comfortable in my faith."
Eduard, however, didn't understand anything; so he too didn't say anything; when they had walked a bit farther, Alice said: "And you didn't say anything to me. Why didn't you say anything to me?"
"And what should I have said to you?" asked Eduard.
"Yes, that's really you," she said with quiet enthusiasm. "Others would put on airs, but you're silent. But that's exactly why I love you."
Eduard began to understand what she was talking about, but nevertheless he asked: "What are you talking about?"
"About what happened to you."
"And who told you about it?"
"Come on! Everybody knows about it. They summoned you, they threatened you, and you laughed in their faces. You didn't renounce anything. Everyone admires you."
"But I didn't tell anyone about it."
"Don't be naive. A thing like that gets around. After all, it's no small matter. How often nowadays do you find someone with some courage?"
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Eduard knew that in a small town every event is quickly turned into a legend, but he hadn't suspected that the worthless episodes he'd been involved in, whose significance he'd never overestimated, possessed the stuff of which legends are made; he hadn't sufficiently realized how very useful he was to his fellow citizens who, as is well known, adore martyrs, for such men soothingly rea
ssure them about their sweet inactivity, and corroborate their view that life provides only one alternative: to obey or be destroyed. Nobody doubted that Eduard would be destroyed, and admiringly and complacently they all passed the news on, until now, through Alice, he himself encountered the splendid image of his own crucifixion. He reacted calmly and said: "But my not renouncing anything is completely natural. Anyone would else would do the same.''
"Anyone?" Alice shouted. "Look around to see how people behave! How cowardly they are! They'd renounce their own mothers!"
Eduard was silent, and Alice was silent. They walked along holding hands. Then Alice said in a whisper: "I would do anything for you."
No one had ever said such words to Eduard; they were an unexpected gift. Of course Eduard knew that they were an undeserved gift, but he said to himself that if fate withheld from him deserved gifts, he had a complete right to accept these undeserved ones. Therefore he said: "No one can do anything for me anymore."
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"How's that?" whispered Alice.
"They'll drive me from the school, and those who speak of me today as a hero won't lift a finger for me. Only one thing is certain. I'll remain entirely alone."
"You won't," said Alice, shaking her head.
"I will," said Eduard.
"You won't!" Alice almost shouted.
"They've all abandoned me."
"I'll never abandon you," said Alice.
"You'll end up abandoning me too," said Eduard sadly.
"Never," said Alice.
"No, Alice," said Eduard. "You don't love me. You've never loved me."
"That's not true," whispered Alice, and Eduard noticed with satisfaction that her eyes were wet.
"You don't, Alice. A person can feel that sort of thing. You were always extremely cold to me. A woman who loves a man doesn't behave like that. I know that very well. And now you feel compassion for me, because you know they want to destroy me. But you don't really love me, and I don't want you to deceive yourself about it."
They walked still farther, silently, holding hands. Alice cried quietly for a while, then all at once she stopped walking and amid sobs she said: "No, that's not true. You have no right to say that. That's not true."
"It is," said Eduard, and when Alice did not stop crying, he suggested that on Saturday they go to the
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country. In a pretty valley by the river was his brother's cottage, where they could be alone.
Alice's face was wet with tears as she dumbly nodded her assent.
8
That was on Tuesday, and when on Thursday he was again invited to the directress's studio apartment, he made his way there with cheerful self-assurance, for he had absolutely no doubt that his natural charm would definitively dissolve the church scandal into a little puff of smoke. But this is how life goes: a man imagines that he is playing his role in a particular play, and he does not suspect that in the meantime they have changed the scenery without his noticing, and he unknowingly finds himself in the middle of a rather different performance.
He was again seated in the armchair opposite the directress. Between them was a little table and on it a bottle of cognac and two glasses. And this bottle of cognac was precisely that new prop by which a perspicacious and sober man would immediately have recognized that the church scandal was no longer the matter in question.
But innocent Eduard was so infatuated with himself that at first he didn't realize this at all. He took part
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with good humor in the opening conversation (whose subject was vague and general), emptied the glass that was offered him, and was guilelessly bored. After half an hour or an hour the directress inconspicuously changed to more personal topics; she talked a lot about herself, and from her words there emerged before Eduard the image that she wanted: that of a sensible, middle-aged woman, not too happy, but reconciled to her lot in a dignified way, a woman who regretted nothing and even expressed satisfaction that she was not married, because only in this way could she fully enjoy her independence and privacy. This life had provided her with a pretty apartment, where she felt happy and where perhaps now Eduard was also not too uncomfortable.
"No, it's really very nice here," said Eduard, and he said it glumly, because just at that moment he had stopped feeling good. The bottle of cognac (which he had inadvertently asked for on his first visit and which was now hurried to the table with such menacing readiness), the four walls of the studio apartment (creating a space that was becoming ever more constricting and confining), the directress's monologue (focusing on subjects ever more personal), her gaze (dangerously fixed on him), all this caused the change of program to begin finally to get to him; he realized that he had entered into a situation whose development was irrevocably predetermined; he clearly realized that his livelihood was jeopardized not by the directress's aversion, but by just the contrary, his physical aversion to this skinny woman
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with the fuzz under her nose, who was urging him to drink. His anxiety made his throat tighten.
He obeyed the directress and emptied his glass, but now his anxiety was so strong that the alcohol had no effect on him. On the other hand after a couple of drinks the directress was already so thoroughly carried away that she abandoned her usual sobriety, and her words acquired an exaltation that was almost threatening: "One thing I envy you," she said, "is that you are so young. You can't know yet what disappointment is, what disillusion is. You still see the world as full of hope and beauty."
She leaned across the table in Eduard's direction and in gloomy silence (with a smile that was rigidly forced) fixed her frightfully large eyes on him, while he said to himself that if he didn't manage to get a bit drunk, he'd be in real trouble before the evening was over; to that end he poured some cognac into his glass and downed it quickly.
And the directress went on: "But I want to see it like that! The way you do!" And then she got up from the armchair, thrust out her chest, and said: "Is it true that you like me? Is it true?" And she walked around the little table and grabbed Eduard by the sleeve. "Is it true?"
"Yes," said Eduard.
"Come, let's dance," she said, and letting go of Eduard's hand she skipped over to the radio and turned the dial until she found some dance music. Then she stood over Eduard with a smile.
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Eduard got up, seized the directress, and began to guide her around the room to the rhythm of the music. Every now and then the directress would tenderly lay her head on his shoulder, then suddenly raise it again, to gaze into his eyes, then, after another little while, she would softly sing along with the melody.
Eduard felt so ill at ease that several times he stopped dancing to have a drink. He longed for nothing more than to put an end to the horror of this interminable trudging around, but also he feared nothing more, for the horror of what would follow the dancing seemed to him even more unbearable. And so he continued to guide the lady who was singing to herself around the room, and at the same time intently (and with anxious impatience) watching for the desired effect on him of the alcohol. When it finally seemed to him that his brain was sufficiently deadened by the cognac, with his right arm he firmly pressed the directress against his body and put his left hand on her breast.
Yes, he did the very thing that had been frightening him the whole evening; he would have given anything not to have had to do this, but if he did it nevertheless, then believe me, it was only because he really had to: the situation he had got into at the very beginning of the evening offered no way out; though it was probably possible to slow its course, it was impossible to stop it, so that when Eduard put his hand on the directress's breast, he was merely submitting to an inevitable necessity.
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The consequences of his action exceeded all expec
tations. As if by the wave of a magician's wand, the directress began to writhe in his arms, and in no time she had placed her hairy upper lip on his mouth. Then she dragged him onto the couch and wildly writhing and loudly sighing, bit his lip and the tip of his tongue, which hurt Eduard a lot. Then she slipped out of his arms, and said, ''Wait!" and ran off to the bathroom.
Eduard licked his finger and found that his tongue was bleeding slightly. The bite hurt so much that his painstakingly induced intoxication receded, and once again his throat tightened from anxiety at the thought of what awaited him. From the bathroom could be heard a loud running and splashing of water. He picked up the bottle of cognac, put it to his lips, and drank deeply.
But by this time the directress had appeared in the doorway in a translucent nightgown (thickly decorated with lace over the breasts), and she was walking slowly toward Eduard. She embraced him. Then she stepped back and reproachfully asked: "Why are you still dressed?"
Eduard took off his jacket and, looking at the directress (who had her big eyes fixed on him), he couldn't think of anything but the fact that his body was likely to sabotage his assiduous will. Wishing therefore to arouse his body somehow or other, he said in an uncertain voice: "Undress completely."
With an abrupt and enthusiastically obedient movement she flung off her nightgown and bared her skinny white body, in the middle of which her thick black bush
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protruded in dreary abandon. She came slowly toward him, and with terror Eduard realized what he already knew: his body was completely fettered by anxiety.
I know, gentlemen, that in the course of the years you have become accustomed to the occasional insubordination of your own bodies, and that this no longer upsets you at all. But understand, Eduard was young then! His body's sabotage threw him into an incredible panic each time, and he bore it as an inexpiable disgrace, whether the witness to it was a beautiful face or one as hideous and comical as the directress's. The directress was now only a step away from him, and he, frightened and not knowing what to do, all at once said, he didn't even know how (it was the fruit of inspiration rather than of cunning reflection): "No, no! God, no! No, it is a sin, it would be a sin!" and he jumped away.
But the directress kept coming toward him, and she muttered: "What sin? There is no sin!"
Eduard retreated behind the table they had been sitting at a while before: "No, I can't do this. I don't have the right."
The directress pushed aside the armchair standing in her path, and went after Eduard, never taking her large dark eyes off him: "There is no sin! There is no sin!"
Eduard went around the table, behind him was only the couch and the directress was a mere step away. Now he could no longer escape, and it was probably his very desperation that made him at this moment of impasse to command her: "Kneel!"
She looked at him uncomprehendingly, but when he
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repeated in a firm though desperate voice, "Kneel!" she enthusiastically fell to her knees in front of him and embraced his legs.
Laughable Loves Page 18
