The Flight From the Enchanter

by Iris Murdoch

  ‘After that day, in the class, we are silent, always silent. Before, we talk much, answer and ask questions. Now we are silent. We sit so and look at her, all time we stare at her. If she asks us something we answer very short, and all time we stare and stare. She soon become miserable. She say, “Why you never talk now, you two, what is with you, are you sick?” But she know very well what is with us. We say nothing. We make her very unhappy. All time we stare, we lean so with our heads in our hands, and stare. So passes a year, two years. We learn much, but now we learn for ourselves, out of books. Soon we know many things, more than the schoolmistress. We still come to school, but only to stare at her, and sometimes now if she say something wrong we correct her. She very unhappy now when she see us there. She begin to be afraid of us. And all time, each of us in his heart is saying, it is not long now, it is soon now. But still we not speak to each other. Each one keeps plan in his own heart, secret. We wait to be big, tall, strong. Now every day we are looking in glass to see if we are like men. We see how we become tall, fine, like soldiers. Is much beard coming at last. Every day I look so in glass and admire, and everyday I see is Jan doing the same, how he measure himself on wall, look in glass, throw shoulders back, so, and clench fist. But. I not know what he think and he not know what I think.

  ‘Then one time our mother go away from village. She begin then to be ill and she go where is sister in other village. I think to myself: it is now. Jan he think so also to himself: it is now. It is same day. But we still not speak. We both go into school, and we sit as we do before and stare, and schoolmistress is red and unhappy when she see us there, as she is before. The lesson is done. Then each of us pass her a note, but we still not see what is doing the other. I, Stefan, I put the note into her book. Jan he put his note into her hat. Then we go home, very pleased, very excited. But we still not tell each other. In my note to schoolmistress I say: I love you. Meet me tonight at nine beside well. In Jan’s note to schoolmistress he say: 1 love you. Meet me tonight at nine beside oak tree. All afternoon we laugh very much, we wait for the evening. Still each does not know what has done the other.

  ‘At last is evening. I, Stefan, go and stand by well. Jan he go and stand by oak tree. Well is near end of village street, but on north side of village. Oak tree is near same end of village street, but on south side of village. In between at end of street is a fountain. When I come to well it is only a little dark, and I look about. I see not schoolmistress, but I see Jan sitting under oak tree. And Jan see me. We both curse, and then we pretend we have not seen. I sit down too. Between us is not far, is perhaps two hundred metres. So we wait. Is twilight, very quiet, very beautiful. I think to myself: if only is not Jan. What can he be doing under oak tree? Jan think to himself: if only is not Stefan. What can he be doing beside well?

  ‘Then suddenly is schoolmistress, in white dress, like bride, coming down village street. She show very clear in twilight. We both see her. She come to end of street. She look to right and she see me. She look to left and she see Jan. She stand so for a moment. Then she sit down beside fountain and arrange her skirt. She look up at sky. She put her hand into fountain. Is silence. The minutes go by. I say to myself, she see Jan there, and she wait for him to go away, then she come to me. Jan say to himself, she see Stefan there, and she wait for him to go away, then she come to me. So we wait all three. Evening is so blue, so warm. It is darker and the stars come out, one star, two, then very many. There is a bird sings in the wood, perhaps a nightingale. And all time we see schoolmistress sitting there, very still, with the head back, so, and the hand in fountain. We see her always, even when it is dark, because she wears so white dress.

  ‘I am becoming mad. I want now desperately this woman. I feel water on my brow, I tremble; but always I see Jan there under oak tree, even when is dark I see his face there, very pale. And while is Jan there I cannot move, I am like man in chains. Village street ends at fountain, but then is path that leads on to church. Suddenly now are coming the people from church and coming towards the fountain. It is time just before Easter, the service of the evening. First comes old lady who is schoolmistress’s mother — and now she take schoolmistress by arm and lead her away. And now is all voices in the air, and nightingale go away, and night is very dark. I sit still by well and I begin to cry. Jan tell me later that he cry too, sitting by oak tree. Then we both go away alone through woods, long way, with many tears, and we hit trees with our hands and lie among leaves and plants. Very late we come home. We say nothing to each other, not a word, and we sleep. ‘Next day we not go into the school. We take books and go far away over hill. I, Stefan, go north, and Jan go south. And so we wait for it to be evening. When is evening we both come back, and at nine o’clock I am again at well and Jan is at oak tree. So we wait. Then all is as before.

  Schoolmistress come in white dress as before, and sit beside fountain. Stars, one, two, three, many come out in blue sky. Now is so silent we can hear fountain falling. Then there is again nightingale. I sit beside well, and is water running down my chest. I tear my shirt, so, at the neck. I cannot breathe. I am mad for this woman, but while is Jan there I am like dead, I sit like corpse, I cannot move scarcely my hand. I pant, and then I groan, but very softly, and I rock a little to and fro, so, and all my body is in pain. Then is all as before. Suddenly, are coming the people from church, and first of all is the mother, who takes schoolmistress away, like on the night before. Then I lie on my face beside well. I lie like a man dead. No longer can I even groan; so I lie for an hour. Then I go home and sleep. Jan he come back much later.

  ‘In morning we look at each other. Each of us we are white like ghosts. But still we say nothing. We eat together, but we say nothing. We not speak now of anything, each talk only in his heart. I think to myself then that I will kill Jan. I tremble all through when I think this thought. I have bread in my hand, and I put it down. I get up from table. I am trembling and can hardly walk. I have to hold on to door as I pass or I fall down. I go out into shed, to look for axe. At same moment Jan has got up and gone into bedroom. I find axe and I come back. Then I see is Jan at door of bedroom holding long hunting-knife. We stand so for a long time, a very long time, perhaps ten, fifteen minutes, and we look at each other. Jan leans on bedroom door and I lean on door to yard. Then we both turn and put those things away. I go out into field then and am sick. Then I go away over hill as the day before.

  ‘At evening I come back to village, and at nine o’clock I am at well. I look and I see Jan under oak tree as on nights before. All is then the same. Schoolmistress is come in white dress and is sitting by fountain. It is warm and with many stars. I hear sound of fountain and sound of nightingale. I not sit down this time, but stand, with foot on edge of well. I wait ten minutes. I am trembling, and I breathe very fast, but I am not weak now like night before. I feel not in chains. I look at Jan. I look at schoolmistress, I look towards church. And I think, but not again, the mother! Then I start to walk very slowly down hill towards fountain. I walk so slowly, I glide like ghost. I hope almost I am invisible like ghost. Is now very dark. I see white dress of schoolmistress. But at same time has Jan started too to walk down hill from oak tree. When I see this I walk faster, and Jan he walk faster too. Then I run, and Jan runs, and we both reach to fountain where is schoolmistress.

  ‘Schoolmistress stand up. She say nothing. We say nothing. Then we take her, one arm each, and we march her back to our house. We take her round by fields so that village not see. We take her into house. Then we undress her and we have her, first one and then the other.’

  Stefan paused, ‘Which was first?’ asked Rosa, after a moment’s silence.

  ‘I,’ said Stefan, ‘because I am eldest. In Poland, eldest, that means much. Eldest is king. Between us is no king. But as we cannot love her together, even we, we take turn, I first.’

  ‘Since then,’ said Jan, ‘we share our women always. It is meant so.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Stefan. ‘When we think to have her
and not tell the other we do wrong so. Always a brother must tell all things to the other. It was a sign.’ They both nodded gravely.

  ‘Did you love her again,’ asked Rosa, ‘or only on that night?’

  ‘Only that night,’ said Jan. ‘After that we love many girls in village, many many girls, all pretty girls in village we love, but not her again.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Rosa.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Jan. ‘We not like her. She tell lies. She say she is virgin, but is not so.’

  ‘All girls in Poland say they are virgin,’ said Stefan.

  ‘Anyhow, we hate her,’ said Jan. ‘We not forget the blow. Why we make her pleasure? Is for her enough honour that she is the first.’

  ‘We make her much pain then,’ said Stefan. ‘In days after, we not go into school. We not go there ever again. She look at us in street, she wait for us. Sometimes she wait again by fountain. We watch her. But we do nothing. We not know her, not greet her. All is as if she is stranger. We make her much pain.’

  ‘Poor thing!’ said Rosa. She felt close to teams. ‘Poor thing! Was she beautiful?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jan. ‘She was beautiful, as such women are. She come from town, but she is peasant woman, not lady, like you. She have long, very long black hair, almost is two metres long, her hair, and like tail of a horse. Is not silk, like yours, but so strong, she almost embrace you with her hair. And eyes, very big, on side of face like animal, and going up, so.’

  ‘And she wear always four black petticoats,’ said Stefan.

  ‘What happened to her?’ asked Rosa.

  ‘Funny thing, she fall down a well,’ said Stefan.

  ‘The well in the village?’ asked Rosa. ‘The one where you waited?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Stefan. ‘She not fall by accident. She jump down herself.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Rosa.

  ‘Because Hitler,’ said Stefan.

  ‘Was she Jewish?’ asked Rosa.

  Stefan shrugged his shoulders. ‘Perhaps was Jewish, perhaps Socialist, I don’t know.’

  ‘I think she was gipsy,’ said Jan. ‘Hitler not like gipsies either, he kill gipsies too, so they say in Poland.’

  ‘Was funny thing about that,’ said Stefan.’ When she fall in the well, she not do it properly, but catch her foot in well rope, and hang upside down half-way in well.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Rosa.

  ‘Someone of our village come past,’ said Stefan. ‘Who was it, Jan, who come past?’

  ‘Nikolai the carpenter,’ said Jan.

  ‘Nikolai come past,’ said Stefan, ‘and see her there down well. All he see is her black petticoats. And he ask her, “You want to come up or to go down?” She say “Down”, so he shake well rope, and she fall into well and drown for good. That was funny, wasn’t it? “You want to come up or to go down”!’

  ‘So say Nikolai,’ said Jan, ‘but he was always great liar, Nikolai.’

  ‘Funny thing too about that well,’ said Stefan. ‘Always there were fish in that well. We pull them out with long net, but always come more fish. Where they come from, those fish?’

  Rosa got up abruptly. She stepped over the bed frame and looked down at the brothers. They sat shoulder to shoulder inside their enchanted enclosure, looking up at Rosa. Then very softly they began to sing, swaying to and fro in an identical rhythm, as if their bodies were joined together.

  Gaudeamus igitur,

  Iuvenes dum sumus;

  Post iucundam iuventutem,

  Post molestam senectutem,

  Nos babebit bumus,

  Nos babebit bumus.

  Vita nostra brevis est,

  Brevi finietur,

  Venit mors veloviter,

  Rapit nos atrociter,

  Nemini parcetur,

  Nemini parcetur.

  Rosa sat down on the mattress and closed her eyes. She stiffened her body and crushed down out of her consciousness something that was crying out in horror. It was nearly gone, it was gone; and now as she sat rigid, like a stone goddess, and as she felt herself to be there, empty of thoughts and feelings, she experienced a kind of triumph.

  The brothers finished their song, and then they got up slowly, uncurling their long legs. They both came and stood looking down at Rosa. She heard them come, as she sat there still with her eyes closed, and felt their proximity in a vibration through her whole body. Then Stefan knelt beside her, and Jan lay down on her other side.

  There was a ritual whereby the two brothers together would undo her hair, and sit by her for a while before one of them would move to go away. Stefan began now to remove the pins. Rosa opened her eyes.

  Jan was lying with his head in her lap. He looked up at her, and his eyes upside down were the eyes of a demon. ‘How many kisses you have for me?’ he said. ‘I want many, many. You give always more to Stefan than to me.’

  She saw his teeth gleam in what must be a smile. She looked down at him sadly and touched his brow. She never replied to any love speeches made to her by one of the brothers in the presence of the other, nor did the brothers expect her to reply. Stefan undid her hair and let it fall over on to her breast. Jan caught it in his two hands and drew it down to imprison it under his arm. Stefan was leaning against her back, his lips very close to her neck. All three closed their eyes and a kind of slumber seemed to fall upon them. They rested so, breathing very softly.

  Then suddenly something very strange happened. The old woman, who was out of sight in the alcove, gave a loud cry, and at the same moment the room was illuminated by a very bright bluish flash. In a second the brothers had leapt to their feet, and Rosa found herself crying out in alarm. She sprang up too, and for a moment they stood there dazed. Then Jan ran to his mother. The old woman was sitting up in bed and talking rapidly in Polish. Stefan followed, and both the brothers stood listening to her. They spoke to each other in Polish, and then Stefan left the room for a moment, only to come back shaking his head. They were both pale and tense with alarm.

  ‘What is it? What is it?’ Rosa kept asking.

  Jan turned to her and put his hand on her arm. Then he embraced her. ‘It is nothing, Rosa,’ he said. ‘It is something with the electricity. We see the landlord about it tomorrow.’ And they would say no more.

  Stefan produced the bottle and they all three had a stiff drink. Rosa was shivering and looking anxiously from one to the other. Soon afterwards she said that she must go home, and they did not dispute this. They saw her to the station in silence. And all the way home she kept remembering every detail of the scene as if it were something potent with the most terrible menace, but she could not bring herself to understand either what had happened or what it was that she feared.

  Seven

  NINA ithe dressmaker lived in a very tall house in Chelsea. Annette was on the way to visit her; it was the morning of the next day. As it was such clear bright spring weather, Annette had decided to walk all the way from Campden Hill Square, and by now she had almost reached Nina’s house. Annette walked quickly, taking long strides and breaking now and then into a run. She swung her arms about a lot as she walked, occasionally cuffing passers-by. She felt herself to be tall and slim and fresh, and she read this again in the faces of the people who eyed her as she approached and turned to stare after her when she had passed. As she went, her breast was filled to bursting with a vague expectancy of bliss, the force of which, rising in her sometimes almost intolerably, made her catch her breath and close her eyes.

  Nina was a good dressmaker and not too expensive. When Annette had been about to leave for England, her mother, who did not conceive of life without a dressmaker, had said to her: ‘Find yourself a good dressmaker, but not too expensive. For me, it is right to spend much on my clothes, but for you, a jeune fille, no. Ask Rosa to advise you.’ Rosa had suggested Nina, and Annette had been well pleased. Nina was patient, good-tempered, humble, discreet, fast, an exquisite worker, and where clothes were concerned inexhaustibly imaginative. Annette had o
nce had the idea that she might make of Nina some superior sort of lady’s maid. She had visions of herself in later years sweeping about Europe followed by Nina in the role of a confidential servant. These ideas, however, although they never left her, remained in the embryonic stage, as Annette could never quite make Nina out. Although the little dressmaker behaved to her impeccably, there were moments when Annette suspected that really Nina detested her heartily.

  Nina was what Annette classified as ‘some sort of refugee’. She spoke with a charming and quite undiagnosable foreign accent. Annette had attempted, to begin with, to talk to her in German or French, but Nina had always politely but firmly replied in English, and made no further comment. Nina was a small woman, with a brown complexion and dark straight hair which she dyed blonde. Her arms were covered with long downy hairs which she also dyed blonde, so that she gave the impression of a small artificial animal. Annette always felt that she wanted to stroke her. Concerning Nina’s age, Annette was also in the dark. It was still necessary to Annette to know people’s ages exactly, in order to place them in relation to herself. About Nina she was never sure; she thought she might be about twenty-nine. And this uncertainty blended with her other doubts to make her relations with Nina, though cordial, always a little uneasy. In her heart, Annette felt towards Nina a mixture of possessiveness, nervousness, and contempt. She could not help feeling that Nina’s small stature was the mark of a small nature. She surprised herself with this thought, which she knew to be unreasonable. She had never had such a thought before in relation to other people, but she could not rid herself of it.