生命不能承受之轻-第27节

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Now　she　saw　clearly　why　the　engineer　had　never　returned：　he　had　accomplished　his　mission。　What　mission？　The　drunken　undercover　agent　had　inadvertently　given　it　away　when　he　said；　Just　remember　that　prostitution　is　a　criminal　offense。　Now　that　self…styled　engineer　would　testify　that　she　had　slept　with　him　and　demanded　to　be　paid！　They　would　threaten　to　blow　it　up　into　a　scandal　unless　she　agreed　to　report　on　the　people　who　got　drunk　in　her　bar。
Don't　worry；　the　ambassador　comforted　her。　Your　story　doesn't　sound　the　least　bit　dangerous。　
I　suppose　it　doesn't；　she　said　in　a　tight　voice；　as　she　walked　out　into　the　Prague　night　with　Karenin。

25
People　usually　escape　from　their　troubles　into　the　future；　they　draw　an　imaginary　line　across　the　path　of　time；　a　line　beyond　which　their　current　troubles　will　cease　to　exist。　But　Tereza　saw　no　such　line　in　her　future。　Only　looking　back　could　bring　her　consolation。　It　was　Sunday　again。　They　got　into　the　car　and　drove　far　beyond　the　limits　of　Prague。
Tomas　was　at　the　wheel；　Tereza　next　to　him；　and　Karenin　in　the　back；　occasionally　leaning　over　to　lick　their　ears。　After　two　hours；　they　came　to　a　small　town　known　for　its　spa　where　they　had　been　for　several　days　six　years　earlier。　They　wanted　to　spend　the　night　there。
They　pulled　into　the　square　and　got　out　of　the　car。　Nothing　had　changed。　They　stood　facing　the　hotel　they　had　stayed　at。　The　same　old　linden　trees　rose　up　before　it。　Off　to　the　left　ran　an　old　wooden　colonnade　culminating　in　a　stream　spouting　its　medicinal　water　into　a　marble　bowl。　People　were　bending　over　it；　the　same　small　glasses　in　hand。
When　Tomas　looked　back　at　the　hotel；　he　noticed　that　something　had　in　fact　changed。　What　had　once　been　the　Grand　now　bore　the　name　Baikal。　He　looked　at　the　street　sign　on　the　corner　of　the　building：　Moscow　Square。　Then　they　took　a　walk　（Karenin　tagged　along　on　his　own；　without　a　leash）　through　all　the　streets　they　had　known；　and　examined　all　their　names：　Stalingrad　Street；　Leningrad　Street；　Rostov　Street；　Novosibirsk　Street；　Kiev　Street；　Odessa　Street。　There　was　a　Tchaikovsky　Sanatorium；　a　Tolstoy　Sanatorium；　a　Rimsky…Korsakov　Sanatorium；　there　was　a　Hotel　Suvorov；　a　Gorky　Cinema；　and　a　Cafe　Pushkin。　All　the　names　were　taken　from　Russian　geography；　from　Russian　history。
Tereza　suddenly　recalled　the　first　days　of　the　invasion。　People　in　every　city　and　town　had　pulled　down　the　street　signs；　sign　posts　had　disappeared。　Overnight；　the　country　had　become　nameless。　For　seven　days；　Russian　troops　wandered　the　countryside；　not　knowing　where　they　were。　The　officers　searched　for　newspaper　offices；　for　television　and　radio　stations　to　occupy；　but　could　not　find　them。　Whenever　they　asked；　they　would　get　either　a　shrug　of　the　shoulders　or　false　names　and　directions。
Hindsight　now　made　that　anonymity　seem　quite　dangerous　to　the　country。　The　streets　and　buildings　could　no　longer　return　to　their　original　names。　As　a　result；　a　Czech　spa　had　suddenly　metamorphosed　into　a　miniature　imaginary　Russia；　and　the　past　that　Tereza　had　gone　there　to　find　had　turned　out　to　be　confiscated。　It　would　be　impossible　for　them　to　spend　the　night。
26
They　started　back　to　the　car　in　silence。　She　was　thinking　about　how　all　things　and　people　seemed　to　go　about　in　disguise。　An　old　Czech　town　was　covered　with　Russian　names。　Czechs　taking　pictures　of　the　invasion　had　unconsciously　worked　for　the　secret　police。　The　man　who　sent　her　to　die　had　worn　a　mask　of　Tomas's　face　over　his　own。　The　spy　played　the　part　of　an　engineer；　and　the　engineer　tried　to　play　the　part　of　the　man　from　Petrin。　The　emblem　of　the　book　in　his　flat　proved　a　sham　designed　to　lead　her　astray。
Recalling　the　book　she　had　held　in　her　hand　there；　she　had　a　sudden　flash　of　insight　that　made　her　cheeks　burn　red。　What　had　been　the　sequence　of　events？　The　engineer　announced　he　would　bring　in　some　coffee。　She　walked　over　to　the　bookshelves　and　took　down　Sophocles'　Oedipus。　Then　the　engineer　came　back。　But　without　the　coffee！
Again　and　again　she　returned　to　that　situation：　How　long　was　he　away　when　he　went　for　the　coffee？　Surely　a　minute　at　the　least。　Maybe　two　or　even　three。　And　what　had　he　been　up　to　for　so　long　in　that　miniature　anteroom？　Or　had　he　gone　to　the　toilet？　She　tried　to　remember　hearing　the　door　shut　or　the　water　flush。　No；　she　was　positive　she'd　heard　no　water；　she　would　have　remembered　that。　And　she　was　almost　certain　the　door　hadn't　closed。　What　had　he　been　up　to　in　that　anteroom？
It　was　only　too　clear。　If　they　meant　to　trap　her；　they　would　need　more　than　the　engineer's　testimony。　They　would　need　incontrovertible　evidence。　In　the　course　of　his　suspiciously　long　absence；　the　engineer　could　only　have　been　setting　up　a　movie　camera　in　the　anteroom。　Or；　more　likely；　he　had　let　in　someone　with　a　still　camera；　who　then　had　photographed　them　from　behind　the　curtain。
Only　a　few　weeks　earlier；　she　had　scoffed　at　Prochazka　for　failing　to　see　that　he　lived　in　a　concentration　camp；　where　privacy　ceased　to　exist。　But　what　about　her？　By　getting　out　from　under　her　mother's　roof；　she　thought　in　all　innocence　that　she　had　once　and　for　all　become　master　of　her　privacy。　But　no；　her　mother's　roof　stretched　out　over　the　whole　world　and　would　never　let　her　be。　Tereza　would　never　escape　her。
As　they　walked　down　the　garden…lined　steps　leading　back　to　the　square；　Tomas　asked　her；　What's　wrong？　
Before　she　could　respond；　someone　called　out　a　greeting　to　Tomas。

27
He　was　a　man　of　about　fifty　with　a　weather…beaten　face；　a　farm　worker　whom　Tomas　had　once　operated　on　and　who　was　sent　to　the　spa　once　a　year　for　treatment。　He　invited　Tomas　and　Tereza　to　have　a　glass　of　wine　with　him。　Since　the　law　prohibited　dogs　from　entering　public　places；　Tereza　took　Karenin　back　to　the　car　while　the　men　found　a　table　at　a　nearby　cafe。　When　she　came　up　to　them；　the　man　was　saying；　We　live　a　quiet　life。　Two　years　ago　they　even　elected　me　chairman　of　the　collective。　Congratulations；　said　Tomas。
You　know　how　it　is。　People　are　dying　to　move　to　the　city。　The　big　shots；　they're　happy　when　somebody　wants　to　stay　put。　They　can't　fire　us　from　our　jobs。　
It　would　be　ideal　for　us；　said　Tereza。　You'd　be　bored　to　tears；　ma'am。　There's　nothing　to　do　there。　Nothing　at　all。　
Tereza　looked　into　the　farm　worker's　weather…beaten　face。　She　found　him　very　kind。　For　the　first　time　in　ages；　she　had　found　someone　kind！　An　image　of　life　in　the　country　arose　before　her　eyes：　a　village　with　a　belfry；　fields；　woods；　a　rabbit　scampering　along　a　furrow；　a　hunter　with　a　green　cap。　She　had　never　lived　in　the　country。　Her　image　of　it　came　entirely　from　what　she　had　heard。　Or　read。　Or　received　unconsciously　from　distant　ancestors。　And　yet　it　lived　within　her；　as　plain　and　clear　as　the　daguerreotype　of　her　great…grandmother　in　the　family　album。
Does　it　give　you　any　trouble？　Tomas　asked。　The　farmer　pointed　to　the　area　at　the　back　of　the　neck　where　the　brain　is　connected　to　the　spinal　cord。　I　still　have　pains　here　from　time　to　time。　
Without　getting　out　of　his　seat；　Tomas　palpated　the　spot　and　put　his　former　patient　through　a　brief　examination。　I　no　longer　have　the　right　to　prescribe　drugs；　he　said　after　he　had　finished；　but　tell　the　doctor　taking　care　of　you　now　that　you　talked　to　me　and　I　recommended　you　use　this。　And　tearing　a　sheet　of　paper　from　the　pad　in　his　wallet；　he　wrote　out　the　name　of　a　medicine　in　large　letters。
28
They　started　back　to　Prague。
All　the　way　Tereza　brooded　about　the　photograph　showing　her　naked　body　embracing　the　engineer。　She　tried　to　console　herself　with　the　thought　that　even　if　the　picture　did　exist；　Tomas　would　never　see　it。　The　only　value　it　had　for　them　was　as　a　blackmailing　device。　It　would　lose　that　value　the　moment　they　sent　it　to　Tomas。
But　what　if　the　police　decided　somewhere　along　the　way　that　they　couldn't　use　her？　Then　the　picture　would　become　a　mere　plaything　in　their　hands；　and　nothing　would　prevent　them　from　slipping　it　in　an　envelope　and　sending　it　off　to　Tomas。　Just　for　the　fun　of　it。
What　would　happen　if　Tomas　were　to　receive　such　a　picture？　Would　he　throw　her　out？　Perhaps　not。　Probably　not。　But　the　fragile　edifice　of　their　love　would　certainly　come　tumbling　down。　For　that　edifice　rested　on　the　single　column　of　her　fidelity；　and　loves　are　like　empires：　when　the　idea　they　are　founded　on　crumbles；　they；　too；　fade　away。
And　now　she　had　an　image　before　her　eyes：　a　rabbit　scampering　along　a　furrow；　a　hunter　with　a　green　cap；　and　the　belfry　of　a　village　church　rising　up　over　the　woods。
She　wanted　to　tell　Tomas　that　they　should　leave　Prague。　Leave　the　children　who　bury　crows　alive　in　the　ground；　leave　the　police　spies；　leave　the　young　women　armed　with　umbrellas。　She　wanted　to　tell　him　that　they　should　move　to　the　country。　That　it　was　their　only　path　to　salvation。
She　turned　to　him。　But　Tomas　did　not　respond。　He　kept　his　eyes　on　the　road　ahead。　Having　thus　failed　to　scale　the　fence　of　silence　between　them；　she　lost　all　courage　to　speak。　She　felt　as　she　had　felt　when　walking　down　Petrin　Hill。　Her　stomach　was　in　knots；　and　she　thought　she　was　going　to　be　sick。　She　was　afraid　of　Tomas。　He　was　too　strong　for　her；　she　was　too　weak。　He　gave　her　commands　that　she　could　not　understand；　she　tried　to　carry　them　out；　but　did　not　know　how。