生命不能承受之轻-第32章

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essed。　He　opened　the　medicine　chest　and　let　out　a　curse：　it　was　completely　empty；　he　had　forgotten　to　keep　it　stocked。　He　tried　to　keep　the　pain　under　control　by　force　of　will　and　was；　in　fact；　fairly　successful；　but　he　could　not　fall　asleep　again。　When　Tereza　came　home　at　half　past　one；　he　felt　like　chatting　with　her。　He　told　her　about　the　funeral；　about　the　editor's　refusal　to　talk　to　him；　and　about　his　encounter　with　S。
Prague　has　grown　so　ugly　lately；　said　Tereza。
I　know；　said　Tomas。
Tereza　paused　and　said　softly；　The　best　thing　to　do　would　be　to　move　away。　
I　agree；　said　Tomas；　but　there's　nowhere　to　go。　
He　was　sitting　on　the　bed　in　his　pajamas；　and　she　came　and　sat　down　next　to　him；　putting　her　arms　around　his　body　from　the　side。
What　about　the　country？　she　said。
The　country？　he　asked；　surprised。
We'd　be　alone　there。　You　wouldn't　meet　that　editor　or　your　old　colleagues。　The　people　there　are　different。　And　we'd　be　getting　back　to　nature。　Nature　is　the　same　as　it　always　was。　
Just　then　Tomas　felt　another　stab　in　his　stomach。　It　made　him　feel　old；　feel　that　what　he　longed　for　more　than　anything　else　was　peace　and　quiet。
Maybe　you're　right；　he　said　with　difficulty。　The　pain　made　it　hard　for　him　to　breathe。
We'd　have　a　little　house　and　a　little　garden；　but　big　enough　to　give　Karenin　room　for　a　decent　run。　
Yes；　said　Tomas。
He　was　trying　to　picture　what　it　would　be　like　if　they　did　move　to　the　country。　He　would　have　difficulty　finding　a　new　woman　every　week。　It　would　mean　an　end　to　his　erotic　adventures。
The　only　thing　is；　you'd　be　bored　with　me　in　the　country；　said　Tereza　as　if　reading　his　mind。
The　pain　grew　more　intense。　He　could　not　speak。　It　occurred　to　him　that　his　womanizing　was　also　something　of　an　Es　muss　sein！　—an　imperative　enslaving　him。　He　longed　for　a　holiday。　But　for　an　absolute　holiday；　a　rest　from　a//　imperatives；　from　all　Es　muss　sein！　If　he　could　take　a　rest　（a　permanent　rest）　from　the　hospital　operating　table；　then　why　not　from　the　world　operating　table；　the　one　where　his　imaginary　scalpel　opened　the　strongbox　women　use　to　hide　their　illusory　one…millionth　part　dissimilarity？
Your　stomach　is　acting　up　again！　Tereza　exclaimed；　only　then　realizing　that　something　was　wrong。　He　nodded。
Have　you　had　your　injection？　
He　shook　his　head。　I　forgot　to　lay　in　a　supply　of　medication。　
Though　annoyed　at　his　carelessness；　she　stroked　his　forehead；　which　was　beaded　with　sweat　from　the　pain。
I　feel　a　little　better　now。　
Lie　down；　she　said；　and　covered　him　with　a　blanket。　She　went　off　to　the　bathroom　and　in　a　minute　was　back　and　lying　next　to　him。
Without　lifting　his　head　from　the　pillow；　he　turned　to　her　and　nearly　gasped：　the　grief　burning　in　her　eyes　was　unbearable。
Tell　me；　Tereza；　what's　wrong？　Something's　been　going　on　inside　you　lately。　I　can　feel　it。　I　know　it。　
No。　She　shook　her　head。　There's　nothing　wrong。　
There's　no　point　in　denying　it。　
It's　still　the　same　things；　she　said。
The　same　things　meant　her　jealousy　and　his　infidelities。
But　Tomas　would　not　let　up。　No；　Tereza。　This　time　it's　something　different。　It's　never　been　this　bad　before。　
Well　then；　I'll　tell　you；　she　said。　Go　and　wash　your　hair。　
He　did　not　understand。
The　tone　of　her　explanation　was　sad；　unantagonistic；　almost　gentle。　For　months　now　your　hair　has　had　a　strong　odor　to　it。　It　smells　of　female　genitals。　I　didn't　want　to　tell　you；　but　night　after　night　I've　had　to　breathe　in　the　groin　of　some　mistress　of　yours。　
The　moment　she　finished；　his　stomach　began　hurting　again。　He　was　desperate。　The　scrubbings　he'd　put　himself　through！　Body；　hands；　face；　to　make　sure　not　the　slightest　trace　of　their　odors　remained　behind。　He'd　even　avoided　their　fragrant　soaps；　carrying　his　own　harsh　variety　with　him　at　all　times。　But　he'd　forgotten　about　his　hair！　It　had　never　occurred　to　him！
Then　he　remembered　the　woman　who　had　straddled　his　face　and　wanted　him　to　make　love　to　her　with　it　and　with　the　crown　of　his　head。　He　hated　her　now。　What　stupid　ideas！　He　saw　there　was　no　use　denying　it。　All　he　could　do　was　laugh　a　silly　laugh　and　head　for　the　bathroom　to　wash　his　hair。
But　she　stroked　his　forehead　again　and　said；　Stay　here　in　bed。　Don't　bother　washing　it　out。　I'm　used　to　it　by　now。　
His　stomach　was　killing　him；　and　he　longed　for　peace　and　quiet。　I'll　write　to　that　patient　of　mine；　the　one　we　met　at　the　spa。　Do　you　know　the　district　where　his　village　is？　No。　
Tomas　was　having　great　trouble　talking。　All　he　could　say　was；　Woods　。　。　。　rolling　hills　。　。　。　
That's　right。　That's　what　we'll　do。　We'll　go　away　from　here。　But　no　talking　now　。　。　。　And　she　kept　stroking　his　forehead。　They　lay　there　side　by　side；　neither　saying　a　word。　Slowly　the　pain　began　to　recede。　Soon　they　were　both　asleep。

22
In　the　middle　of　the　night；　he　woke　up　and　realized　to　his　surprise　that　he　had　been　having　one　erotic　dream　after　the　other。　The　only　one　he　could　recall　with　any　clarity　was　the　last：　an　enormous　naked　woman；　at　least　five　times　his　size；　floating　on　her　back　in　a　pool；　her　belly　from　crotch　to　navel　covered　with　thick　hair。　Looking　at　her　from　the　side　of　the　pool；　he　was　greatly　excited。
How　could　he　have　been　excited　when　his　body　was　debilitated　by　a　gastric　disorder？　And　how　could　he　be　excited　by　the　sight　of　a　woman　who　would　have　repelled　him　had　he　seen　her　while　conscious？
He　thought：　In　the　clockwork　of　the　head；　two　cogwheels　turn　opposite　each　other。　On　the　one；　images；　on　the　other；　the　body's　reactions。　The　cog　carrying　the　image　of　a　naked　woman　meshes　with　the　corresponding　erection…command　cog。　But　when；　for　one　reason　or　another；　the　wheels　go　out　of　phase　and　the　excitement　cog　meshes　with　a　cog　bearing　the　image　of　a　swallow　in　flight；　the　penis　rises　at　the　sight　of　a　swallow。
Moreover；　a　study　by　one　of　Tomas's　colleagues；　a　specialist　in　human　sleep；　claimed　that　during　any　kind　of　dream　men　have　erections；　which　means　that　the　link　between　erections　and　naked　women　is　only　one　of　a　thousand　ways　the　Creator　can　set　the　clockwork　moving　in　a　man's　head。
And　what　has　love　in　common　with　all　this？　Nothing。　If　a　cogwheel　in　Tomas's　head　goes　out　of　phase　and　he　is　excited　by　seeing　a　swallow；　it　has　absolutely　no　effect　on　his　love　for　Tereza。
If　excitement　is　a　mechanism　our　Creator　uses　for　His　own　amusement；　love　is　something　that　belongs　to　us　alone　and　enables　us　to　flee　the　Creator。　Love　is　our　freedom。　Love　lies　beyond　Es　muss　sein！　
Though　that　is　not　entirely　true。　Even　if　love　is　something　other　than　a　clockwork　of　sex　that　the　Creator　uses　for　His　own　amusement；　it　is　still　attached　to　it。　It　is　attached　to　it　like　a　tender　naked　woman　to　the　pendulum　of　an　enormous　clock。
Thomas　thought：　Attaching　love　to　sex　is　one　of　the　most　bizarre　ideas　the　Creator　ever　had。
He　also　thought：　One　way　of　saving　love　from　the　stupidity　of　sex　would　be　to　set　the　clockwork　in　our　head　in　such　a　way　as　to　excite　us　at　the　sight　of　a　swallow。
And　with　that　sweet　thought　he　started　dozing　off。　But　on　the　very　threshold　of　sleep；　in　the　no…man's…land　of　muddled　concepts；　he　was　suddenly　certain　he　had　just　discovered　the　solution　to　all　riddles；　the　key　to　all　mysteries；　a　new　utopia；　a　paradise：　a　world　where　man　is　excited　by　seeing　a　swallow　and　Tomas　can　love　Tereza　without　being　disturbed　by　the　aggressive　stupidity　of　sex。
Then　he　fell　asleep。
23
Several　half…naked　women　were　trying　to　wind　themselves　around　him；　but　he　was　tired；　and　to　extricate　himself　from　them　he　opened　the　door　leading　to　the　next　room。　There；　just　opposite　him；　he　saw　a　young　woman　lying　on　her　side　on　a　couch。　She；　too；　was　half…naked：　she　wore　nothing　but　panties。　Leaning　on　her　elbow；　she　looked　up　at　him　with　a　smile　that　said　she　had　known　he　would　come。
He　went　up　to　her。　He　was　filled　with　a　feeling　of　unutterable　bliss　at　the　thought　that　he　had　found　her　at　last　and　could　be　there　with　her。　He　sat　down　at　her　side；　said　something　to　her；　and　she　said　something　back。　She　radiated　calm。　Her　hand　made　slow；　supple　movements。　All　his　life　he　had　longed　for　the　calm　of　her　movements。　Feminine　calm　had　eluded　him　all　his　life。
But　just　then　the　dream　began　its　slide　back　to　reality。　He　found　himself　back　in　that　no…man's…land　where　we　are　neither　asleep　nor　awake。　He　was　horrified　by　the　prospect　of　seeing　the　young　woman　vanish　before　his　eyes　and　said　to　himself；　God；　how　I'd　hate　to　lose　her！　He　tried　desperately　to　remember　who　she　was；　where　he'd　met　her；　what　they'd　experienced　together。　How　could　he　possibly　forget　when　she　knew　him　so　well？　He　promised　himself　to　phone　her　first　thing　in　the　morning。　But　no　sooner　had　he　made　the　promise　than　he　realized　he　couldn't　keep　it：　he　didn't　know　her　name。　How　could　he　forget　the　name　of　someone　he　knew　so　well？　By　that　time　he　was　almost　completely　awake；　his　eyes　were　open；　and　he　was　asking　himself；　Where　am　I？　Yes；　I'm　in　Prague；　but　that　woman；　does　she　live　here　too？　Didn't　I　meet　her　somewhere　else？　Could　she　be　from　Switzerland？　It　took　him　quite　some　time　to　get　it　into　his　head　that　he　didn't　know　the　woman；　that　she　wasn't　from　Prague　or　Switzerland；　that　she　inhabited　his　dream　and　nowhere　else。
He　was　so　upset　he　sat　straight　up　in　bed。　Tereza　was　breathing　deeply　beside　him。　The　woman　in　the　dream；　he　thought；　was　unlike　any　he　had　ever　met。　The　woman　he　felt　he　knew　most　intimately　of　all　had　turned　out　to　be　a　woman　he　did　not　even　know。　And　yet　she　was　the　one　he　had　always　longed　for。　If　a　personal　paradise　were　ever　to　exist　for　him；　then　in　that　paradise　he　would　have　to　live　by　her　side。　The　woman　from　his　dream　was　the　Es　muss　sein！　of　his　love。
He　suddenly　recalled　the　famous　myth　from　Plato's　Symposium：　People　were　hermaphrodites　until　God　split　them　in　two；　and　now　all　the　halves　wander　the　world　over　seeking　one　another。　Love　is　the　longing　for　the　half　of　ourselves　we　have　lost。
Let　us　suppose　that　such　is　the　case；　that　somewhere　in　the　world　each　of　us　has　a　partner　who　once　formed　part　of　our　body。　Tomas's　other　part　is　the　young　woman　he　dreamed　about。　The　trouble　is；　man　does　not　find　the　other　part　of　himself。　Instead；　he　is　sent　a　Tereza　in　a　bulrush　basket。　But　what　happens　if　he　nevertheless　later　meets　the　one　who　was　meant　for　him；　the　other　part　of　himself？　Whom　is　he　to　prefer？　The　woman　from　the　bulrush　basket　or　the　woman　from　Plato's　myth？
He　tried　to　picture　himself　living　in　an　ideal　world　with　the　young　woman　from　the　dream。　He　sees　Tereza　walking　past　the　open　windows　of　their　ideal　house。　She　is　alone　and　stops　to　look　in　at　him　with　an　infinitely　sad　expression　in　her　eyes。　He　cannot　withstand　her　glance。　Again；　he　feels　her　pain　in　his　own　heart。　Again；　he　falls　prey　to　compassion　and　sinks　deep　into　her　soul。　He　leaps　out　of　the　window；　but　she　tells　him　bitterly　to　stay　where　he　feels　happy；　making　those　abrupt；　angular　movements　that　so　annoyed　and　displeased　him。　He　grabs　her　nervous　hands　and　presses　them　between　his　own　to　calm　them。　And　he　knows　that　time　and　again　he　will　abandon　the　house　of　his　happiness；　time　and　again　abandon　his　paradise　and　the　woman　from　his　dream　and　betray　the　Es　muss　sein！　of　his　love　to　go　off　with　Tereza；　the　woman　born　of　six　laughable　fortuities。
All　this　time　he　was　sitting　up　in　bed　and　looking　at　the　woma