It was as sudden as the spread of water over countryside when riverbanks give way. It had been a long
time since Jakub had been sad. Many years. He had known only sourness, bitterness, but not sadness. And now it had assailed him, and he could not move.
He saw in front of him the child dressed in his wire fence, and he pitied that child and his whole country, reflecting that he had loved this country little and badly, and he was sad because of that bad and failed love.
And all at once the thought came to him that it was pride that had kept him from loving this country, pride in nobility, pride in high-mindedness, pride in scrupulousness; an insane pride that made him dislike his kind and detest them because he saw them as murderers. And once again he remembered that he had slipped poison into a stranger's medicine tube, and that he himself was a murderer. He was a murderer, and his pride was reduced to dust. He had become one of them. He was a brother of those distressing murderers.
The little boy with the big eyeglasses stood at the window as if petrified, his eyes still fixed on the pond. And Jakub realized that this child had done no harm, that he was not guilty of anything, and yet he had been born with bad eyes and would have them forever. And he reflected further that what he had held against others was something given, something they came into the world with and carried with them like a heavy wire fence. He reflected that he had no privileged right to high-mindedness and that the highest degree of high-mindedness is to love people even though they are murderers.
He thought once again of the pale-blue tablet, and
he told himself that he had slipped it into the disagreeable nurse's medicine tube as an apology; as an application to be admitted into their ranks; as a plea to be accepted by them even though he had always refused to be counted as one of them.
He quickly headed back to the car, opened the door, took the wheel, and set out again for the border. The day before he had thought that this would be a moment of relief. That he would be glad to be going away. That he would be leaving a place where he had been born by mistake, and where, in fact, he did not feel at home. But now he knew that he was leaving his only homeland and that he had no other.
23
"Don't be thrilled," said the inspector. "The glorious prison gates won't be opening for you to go through like Jesus Christ climbing Calvary. It never occurred to me that you could kill that young woman. I only accused you so you'd stop insisting so stubbornly that she was murdered."
"I am glad you were not serious about the accusation," said Bertlef in a conciliatory tone. "And you are right, it was not reasonable for me to try to obtain justice for Ruzena through you."
"I'm pleased to see you settle your differences," said Dr. Skreta. "There's one thing at least we can take comfort from. However Ruzena died, her last night was a beautiful night."
"Look at the moon," said Bertlef. "It is just as it was yesterday, and it is turning this room into a garden. Barely twenty-four hours ago Ruzena was the fairy queen of this garden."
"And we shouldn't be so interested in justice," Dr. Skreta said. "Justice is not a human thing. There's the justice of blind, cruel laws, and maybe there's also another justice, a higher justice, but that one I don't understand. I've always felt that I was living here in this world beyond justice."
"What do you mean?" asked Olga, amazed.
"Justice doesn't concern me," said Dr. Skreta. "It's something outside and above me. In any case it's something inhuman. I'll never cooperate with this repellent power."
"Are you trying to say," Olga asked, "that you don't recognize any universal values?"
"The values I recognize have nothing in common with justice."
"For example?" Olga asked.
"For example, friendship," Dr. Skreta replied softly.
Everyone remained silent, and the inspector rose to go. Just then, Olga had a sudden thought: "What color were the tablets Ruzena was taking?"
"Pale blue," said the inspector, and then added with renewed interest: "But why do you ask?"
Olga was afraid that the inspector had read her mind, and quickly backtracked: "I saw her once with a medicine tube. I was wondering if it was the tube I saw…"
The inspector had not read her mind, he was tired and bade everyone good evening.
After he had left, Bertlef said to the doctor: "Our wives will be arriving soon. Shall we go to meet them?"
"Certainly. And I want you to take a double dose of your medication tonight," said the doctor with concern as Bertlef went off into the small adjoining room.
"You once gave some poison to Jakub," said Olga. "It was a pale-blue tablet. And he always had it with him. I know it."
"Don't talk nonsense. I never gave him any such thing," the doctor said very forcefully.
Then Bertlef, wearing a fresh necktie, returned from the adjoining room, and Olga took her leave of the two men.
24
Bertlef and Dr. Skreta walked down the poplar-lined avenue to the railroad station.
"Look at that moon," said Bertlef. "Believe me, Doctor, the evening and night yesterday were miraculous."
"I believe you, but you should take it easy. The bodily movements that inevitably go with such a beautiful night can really be very risky for you."
Bertlef did not reply, and his face radiated only happy pride.
"You seem to be in an excellent mood," said Dr. Skreta.
"You're not mistaken. If, thanks to me, the last night of her life was a beautiful night, I'm happy."
"You know," Dr. Skreta said suddenly, "there's a strange thing I want to ask you but have never dared to. And yet I have the sense that today is so exceptional that I might be bold enough to…"
"Speak up, Doctor!"
"I want you to adopt me as your son."
Bertlef stopped in bewilderment, and Dr. Skreta explained the reasons for his request.
"I would do anything for you, Doctor!" said Bertlef. "I am only afraid that my wife might find it odd. She would be much younger than her son. Is this even legally possible?"
"It doesn't say anywhere that an adopted son must be younger than his parents. He isn't a son by blood, but just an adopted son."
"Are you sure of that?"
"I consulted lawyers a long time ago," Dr. Skreta said shyly.
"You know, it is a peculiar idea, and I am a little surprised by it," said Bertlef, "but today I am under such a spell that I want nothing but to make everyone
happy. So if that makes you happy… my son…"
And the two men embraced in the middle of the street.
25
Olga lay stretched out on her bed (the radio in the next room was silent), and it was obvious to her that Jakub had killed Ruzena and that only she and Dr. Skreta knew it. She would probably never learn why he had done it. A shudder of horror ran through her, but then she noticed with surprise (as we know, she knew how to observe herself) that the shudder was delightful and the horror full of pride.
The night before, she had made love with Jakub while he must have been full of the most excruciating thoughts, and she had absorbed him completely into herself, even with those thoughts.
Why doesn't this repel me? she wondered. Why don't I go (and never will go) and inform on him? Am I, too, living beyond justice?
But the more she interrogated herself this way, the more she felt swelling in her that strange, happy pride, and she felt like a young girl who is being raped and is abruptly gripped by stunning pleasure growing all the more powerful the more strongly it is being resisted…
26
The train reached the railroad station, and two women got off.
One was about thirty-five and received a kiss from Dr. Skreta; the other, who was younger and elegantly dressed, carried a baby in her arms and was kissed by Bertlef.
"Show us your little boy, Mrs. Bertlef," said the doctor, "I haven't seen him yet!"
"If I didn't know you so well, I'd be suspicious," said Suzy Skreta, laughing. "Look, he has a bir
thmark on his upper lip, in exactly the same place as you!"
Mrs. Bertlef examined Dr. Skreta's face and said in a near shout: "It's true! I never noticed it on you when I was here at the spa before!"
Bertlef said: "It is such an amazing coincidence that I venture to rank it among the miracles. Doctor Skreta, who restores health to women, belongs to the category of angels, and like an angel, he puts his sign on the children he has helped bring into the world. It is not a birthmark, it is an angel mark." All were delighted by Bertlef's explanation, and they laughed cheerfully.
"Besides," Bertlef went on, addressing his charming wife, "I hereby solemnly announce that, as of a few minutes ago, the doctor is the brother of our little John. Since they are brothers, it is quite normal for them to bear the same mark."
"Finally! You finally decided…" said Suzy Skreta to her husband with a sigh of happiness.
"I don't understand, I don't understand any of this!" said Mrs. Bertlef, insisting on an explanation.
"I shall explain everything to you. We have many things to talk about today, many things to celebrate. We have a marvelous weekend before us," said Bertlef, taking his wife by the arm. Then the four of them walked off under the platform lights and away from the railroad station.
COMPLETED IN BOHEMIA IN 1971 OR 1972
Milan Kundera
***
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Farewell Waltz Page 20
