The engine was rapidly growing larger, the cars behind it appeared at a bend of the tracks.
“It was good of you to come,” said Karel, straightening his black tie. “It’s a funny feeling—not to have to worry about him any longer. So you worry about something else; you worry whether you’ve done everything for him you should have done, and what you’ve done wrong; until you realize that this was his tragedy—people doing things for him. I’m very sad. Thanks for coming, and for the wreaths, and everything.”
“If you don’t mind an old man telling you...” said Stanek...”but I used to tell things to Thomas, too, and he didn’t mind...Don’t look back, Karel, you’ve got a job ahead of you!”
“Yes, I know,” Karel said, a little tiredly, and glanced at Kravat who, tall and angular, stood behind the other two. “A big job—so much work.”
The train chugged up to the platform and, with a hiss and a screech and a clatter, came to a stop.
“Would you like to get out of here?” said Novak. “I could inquire about some position in Prague for you.”
“I’ll think about it,” said Karel.
Kravat had opened the door to a compartment.
“Let me know, will you?” called Novak.
Then the two stood at the window of their compartment, the door banged shut, the dispatcher in his red cap raised his stick, the train jerked on and became smaller and smaller; finally, even the vibrations of the rails ceased.
“I’ll walk you a bit,” said Kravat, leading Karel off the platform. “Or would you rather be left alone?”
“No! No, no....Come along.”
But Karel soon forgot that he wasn’t alone. Automatically trudging alongside Kravat, his eyes fixed on nothing, he gave himself to his sense of loss; it yawned, like an empty cave, inside his chest. It was possible, he thought, that when he called Thomas’s house to tell him about the acceptance of the Essay, Thomas was still alive. But would it have really changed anything? Would it have changed anything if he hadn’t taken Kitty and Petra to Prague that day? Or if he had forced Kitty to go back and live on St. Nepomuk and be Thomas’s nurse and jailer? Or was Thomas’s death the logical postscript to the Essay, the final argument for the impossibility of living in the twilight zone between black and white, above the clash of the sides and the beating of the drums, neither with Joseph nor with him?
The Essay....It would be out three or four months from now. They’d do a nice printing job, probably, with a dignified cover—dark blue, maybe, with white lettering: Essay on Freedom, BY THOMAS BENDA. He’d step into a bookstore and buy two copies of the first edition, one for himself and Kitty; the other he’d have wrapped for mailing. What’s the address, please? the clerk would ask. The address, yes...He didn’t have Joseph’s address, and he would never have it.
“You aren’t going to accept that offer?” said Kravat.
Karel started. “What? What offer?”
“That offer to go to Prague and live there and work there.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Karel said hazily.
“You can go, of course, if you want to.” Kravat was a little embarrassed. “But, you see—we like you here, and you’ve been doing great work, and—you’re the only Benda left....When I think what your brothers might have done for us, for the people, for Rodnik, for the country...What’s the point of talking about that?”
“No point at all,” said Karel.
“As for Kitty Benda,” Kravat went on, “I don’t know what your plans are, and that’s none of my business....”
Karel said nothing.
“There’s a course I heard about. If she’d like to take it, after graduation she could join the District Health Office and be stationed in Rodnik and help you. It’s only a six months’ course—if her mind isn’t set on other work...”
Karel smiled at Kravat, smiled for the first time since he had returned from Prague and been called in by the police to look at his dead brother.
“I’ll tell Kitty about it,” he said.
They came to the Market Square. A few glassworkers, who had not yet gone home from the funeral, lifted their caps and said, “Good afternoon, Doctor!” Or, “Sorry, Doctor!” And, “We’re grieving with you, Doctor!”
Ruziczka, the police sergeant, strolled over, saluted, and said, “I would rather be talking about the stars, Doctor, as we did the other night....”
“Thank you.”
Ruziczka cleared his throat and saluted and walked off.
They crossed the square and entered the street in which Karel had his flat and his office.
“Going to stay with us?” asked Kravat.
“Yes.”
“Well—this is your house!”
“See you tomorrow,” said Karel, “at the Works. Hours as usual. And thanks for everything.”
“What do you want to thank me for?” Kravat shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot of funerals in my time, of workers and of others. And afterwards, I always felt all the stronger how life goes on, and that we’re not living alone. “Not alone,” he repeated, and added thoughtfully: “Not like Thomas, poor fellow.”
The cracked bell jarred. He pushed open the door for Karel, and was gone.
Someone in slippers came noiselessly down the stairs.
“Karel?”
It was Petra. She placed her finger on her lips.
“I’ve put Kitty to bed, and I think she’s asleep. She was all exhausted. She prepared some dinner for you. She asked me to serve it to you—it’s not much, but if you care to eat?”
“We’ve got to eat,” he said. “I have a heavy schedule tomorrow.”
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