Chapter 15 Chapter 5 The poet is jealous (2) (2)

Regardless, she appears flirty.Jaromil had never seen her behave like this before.Just this morning she went to the barber's and had her hair done in a striking youthful style; she spoke louder than usual, laughed and giggled non-stop, and used all the punchlines she'd ever heard, with aplomb Calmly playing the role of hostess, she kept serving coffee and refreshments to the men of the camera crew.She spoke to the dark-haired girl in the casual tone of a close friend (thus suggesting a complicated sisterhood), and at the same time put her arms around Jaromil, calling him her troublemaker. (Which kicks him back into his teenage, childhood and baby years).

(What an unusual situation, mother and son, in a violent tug of war! She is pulling him into his diaper, and he is pulling her into her corpse. Oh, what a lovely scene!) Jaromil bowed to the inevitable; he saw that the two women were full of steam like two locomotives, and he could not resist their eloquence; he saw that the three men of the film crew were mocking spectators, Most likely would laugh at any step he might make wrong; he spoke in a low voice, while Maman and the girl talked and laughed, because the presence of the audience was to their advantage and not to his.He therefore announced that he had ceased resistance and was ready to leave.But they objected (again in coquettish manners) that he should really stay; they cajoled him that it would be a pleasure for them if he looked on while they were working; Watching the men fussing about with their lamps, taking quick shots of the family photo book; now and then he goes to his room and pretends to read or work; a mess of thoughts in his head; in this moody situation , he tried to find something pleasant, and it occurred to him that perhaps the girl had arranged the whole thing only for the chance of seeing him again; he told himself that in such a case his mother was only an unfortunate obstacle to be patiently avoided; He tried to calm himself down, trying to think of a way to use this nasty filming incident for his own benefit.Make up for the episode that has been tormenting him since the night he escaped like a coward from the film girl's villa; he tries to overcome his embarrassment, stepping out every now and then to see how the film is going, hoping that he and the girl can re-establish their relationship That magical eye-connection that captivated him when they first met; but the girl seemed so engrossed in her work, and occupied with it in such a serious, matter-of-fact manner, that their eyes met only occasionally and briefly .So Jaromil gave up any attempt to get a reaction from the girl while filming was in progress; he decided to offer to take her home after the day's filming was over.

Finally, the three men on the film crew disassembled the equipment and moved the cameras and lights to a sealed truck parked outside.Jaromil was about to leave his room when he heard her mother say to the girl, "Let's go, I'll go with you. Maybe we'll have time to sit down somewhere and talk." It seemed to Jaromil that what he had got was taken away from under his nose.He said good-bye to the girl coldly, and as soon as the two women had left the house he went out too, walking quickly and furiously toward the red-haired girl's apartment building.She was not at home.He walked up and down the street for about half an hour, his mood even more sombre.At last he saw her coming.There was a look of surprise on her face, but there was an angry accusation on his face.Why hasn't she come home?Didn't it occur to her that he might come to see her suddenly?Why is she out so late?

He started taking off her clothes almost before she could close the door.He imagined that he was making love to the beautiful film girl; soon he heard the moans of the red-haired girl; in his imagination, he connected these sounds with the black-haired girl, which made him very excited so that he entered the red-haired girl's body several times in a row, but only stayed inside her for a few seconds each time.The red-haired girl thought this was very strange, and couldn't help laughing.But Jaromil was particularly sensitive to ridicule that day, and he didn't realize that the girl's smile was out of encouragement and entertainment.Feeling greatly insulted, he slapped the girl; she burst into tears, which cheered Jaromil; she sobbed, and he slapped her a few more times.A woman sheds tears for us - this is redemption, Jesus Christ died on the cross for us, Jaromil admired the tears of the red-haired girl for a while, then he kissed and touched her, and went home, somewhat in pain lightened.

Filming resumed a few days later.The sealing truck came, and three lads climbed out of it (another contemptuous audience), followed by the pretty girl, whose replaced moans were still ringing in Jaromil's ears.Maman was there, of course, growing younger and younger like an instrument, singing, roaring, laughing, coquettishly dancing away from the full orchestra to the solos. According to the plan, the camera lens will focus on Jaromil this time; he should appear in the environment of his birth; in front of his desk; in the garden (because according to the script, he loves gardens, flower beds, lawns, flowers); He will appear with his mother, who already recounts her memories in the film's lengthy opening sequence.The girl made them pose on a bench in the garden, and urged Jaromil to start chatting naturally and casually with his mother.This rehearsal for the spontaneous scene lasted about an hour, but Maman was not discouraged.She babbled on and on (in the actual film, their conversation would not be heard; the mother's son would appear to be talking, with Maman's pre-recorded narration playing over the vocal cords); When Jaromil looked less positive, she began to tell him that it was not easy being a mother to a child like him, a shy, withdrawn boy who was constantly angry about one thing or another.

Then they stuffed him into a sealed truck and transported him to the romantic countryside near Prague, where, according to Maman's belief, Jaromil was conceived.Maman has kept her mouth shut to anyone, why she thinks this piece of scenery is so precious.She didn't want to talk--yet she did.Talking excitedly, she claimed, in a roundabout, vague way, that this country had always had a special meaning for herself, that she saw it as the land of love. "Look at this landscape, how it looks like a woman. Those rich and soft curves have a maternal taste. Look at those rocks, those lonely big pebbles! Don't those hard and rough pebbles protruding in the air have a manly quality Isn't this the land of men and women? Isn't this the land of sex?"

Jaromil has been planning to rebel; he wants to tell them that their film is a banal bad; Just as he escaped on a boat trip with his mother's friends, but this time he couldn't.He was captured by the black eyes of the film girl, afraid of losing her for the second time. They made him pose before a large pebble and made him recite his favorite poems.Maman was very excited.How long has it been!Long, long ago, in this very spot, she had made love to a young engineer; here; her son was looming now, as if emerging from the ground like a mushroom. (Ah, yes, as if where the parents sowed their seeds, the children popped up like mushrooms!) This strange, beautiful, magical figure of the mushroom fascinated Maman, and with a trembling voice she Telling how she had longed to die in the fire.

Jaromil felt that his recitation was terrible, and there was nothing he could do.He reminded himself that he was by no means stage-frightened, that he had read the same poem to a police audience with fluency and success.But this time the words got stuck in his throat; standing in front of a ridiculous rock in a ridiculous place, always worried about being watched by some passers-by walking with dogs (his mother felt the same way twenty years ago restlessness), he could not concentrate on his poems and recited them awkwardly and unnaturally. They forced him to recite his poems over and over again, but finally they gave up. "Even when he was at university, he was terrified of every test. He used to panic so much that I literally had to drive him to school."

The film girl said they might be able to use an actor's voice for dubbing.She asked Jaromil to stand in front of the rock again, moving his lips as if he were reciting. He complied. "My God!" she cried impatiently. "You have to move your mouth as if you were speaking, not just like that! The actor's voice has to match the movement of your lips." So Jaromil stood in front of the rock, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, and the camera finally started buzzing. Two days ago he was facing the camera wearing only a thin coat; now he has to wear a scarf, hat, and winter coat; snow has fallen.He was supposed to meet the red-haired girl at six o'clock in front of her house, but a quarter of an hour had passed and there was no sign of her yet.

Waiting for a few minutes is no great tragedy, Jaromil has already endured so much humiliation in the past few days, he has reached the limit of his endurance; he has to pace up and down a bustling street It can be clearly seen that he is waiting for someone who is not in a hurry to see him, so that his shame will be known to everyone. He dreaded looking at his watch, a gesture of significance which would prove him to be a lover who waited in vain; he gently pulled up the sleeves of his coat and rolled the edges of the sleeves under the strap so that he could not attract He glanced attentively at his watch from time to time; when he saw that the minute hand had passed twenty minutes, he became furious; why did he always try to be a few minutes early, and that stupid, ugly man was never on time?

Finally she appeared and met Jaromil's stern face.They went to her room and sat down, and the girl tried to explain herself: she had been with a girl friend.It was the worst explanation she could possibly come up with.In fact, of course, there might be no explanation that could calm Jaromil, especially the trivial fact that he had been waiting because of some unimportant girlfriend.He told the redhead that he was sorry she had to interrupt an important discussion with a girlfriend because of him, and he advised her to turn around and go back right away. The girl noticed that Jaromil was very disturbed.She said the meeting with her girlfriend was indeed urgent: the girlfriend was disowning her fiancé, and she was so depressed that the red-haired girl couldn't bear to leave her until she felt better. Jaromil said it was too noble to dry her girlfriend's tears, and he hoped her girlfriend would repay her, since Jaromil planned to end their entire relationship.Exactly so.He's ready to disown because he refuses to have anything to do with anyone who puts a stupid girlfriend's stupid tears above his own. The red-haired girl saw that things were getting worse; she said she was very sorry, and she begged his forgiveness. But none of this lessened the insatiable demands of his humiliated pride; his announcement of her apology did not in the slightest change his conviction that the love the red-haired girl spoke of was not love at all; Exaggerated; but it was the little things that betrayed her true attitude to him; unbearable indifference, nonchalant indifference, hey, she treated him like a girl friend of hers, a shop customer, A pedestrian on the street!Please never say she loves him again!Her love is but a poor imitation of love! The girl realizes that things have gone bad.She tried to break through Jaromil's hatred and sorrow with a kiss; he pushed her away with an almost rough movement; She helped her up and asked her coldly not to touch him again. Hate came to his mind like wine; it was a feeling of ecstasy.What made the feeling all the more intoxicating was the way it bounced back from the girl to hurt and punish him; it was a self-torturing hatred, and Jaromil knew full well that by driving the red-haired girl away he would lose the only woman he had; he felt that his anger was unjust, that he was unjust; but for these reasons he became all the more cruel, for it was the abyss that attracted him: the abyss of solitude, of self-condemnation. abyss.He knew that without the girl he would be unhappy (he would be all alone) and dissatisfied with himself (because he knew he had wronged her), but all these knowledges were powerless against the delicious intoxication of anger.He told her that what he had just said would always apply; her hand must never touch him again. The girl had met Jaromil's anger and jealousy before, but this time she detected a furious determination in his voice.She knew that Jaromil would do anything to satisfy his inexplicable anger.Almost at the last moment, on the edge of the abyss, she said, "Don't be mad at me, I beg you! Don't be mad. I lied to you. I'm not even with a girlfriend." This surprised him. "So where are you?" "You'd be mad at me, you don't like him, but there's nothing I can do—I've got to see him." "Who are you talking about?" "I'm going to see my brother. Jane, the one who lived with me." He flew into a rage. "Why do you always care so much about your brother?" "Don't be mad, he means nothing to me. He means nothing compared to you. But you have to understand—he's still my brother, and we've been together for over fifteen years. He wants Gone. It's going to be a long time. I have to go and say goodbye to him." Jaromil resented this sentimental farewell. "Where could your brother be worth throwing everything away? Is he going on a business trip for a few weeks? Or is he going to the country for the weekend?" No, neither a business trip nor a weekend in the country, but something far more serious, but she couldn't tell Jaromil, because he would be very angry. "Is this what you call love? Hiding things from me? Keeping them secret from me?" Yes, she knew perfectly well that love meant nothing to hide from each other.But he must try to understand.She was terrified, she was terrified to death... "What are you afraid of? Where could your brother be that you are afraid to speak to me?" "Can't you guess?" No, Jaromil couldn't figure it out. (At this point, his anger is slowly taking the backseat to his curiosity.) Finally the girl confided the secret to him.Her brother had decided to leave the country, secretly and illegally; he expected to cross the border the day after tomorrow. What?Her brother wants to betray our young socialist republic?Betray the revolution?Her brother wants to be an immigrant?Doesn't he know what he's doing?Doesn't he know that all immigrants are automatically employees of foreign spy agencies trying to undermine our country? The girl nodded in agreement.Intuition convinced her that Jaromil would probably rather forgive her brother for his treason than her fifteen minutes lateness.That's why she kept nodding.She agreed with everything Jaromil said, she said. "What's the use of your agreeing with me? You should talk him out of this! You should stop him!" Yes, she had tried to dissuade him from this decision.She had done everything to make him change his mind.That's why she was late.Perhaps Jaromil would now understand why she was late.Perhaps Jaromil would forgive her now. Jaromil did forgive her for being late.But he tells her that he cannot forgive her brother for his betrayal. "Your brother is on the other side of the barricade. So he is my personal enemy. If a war breaks out, your brother will shoot me and I will shoot him. Do you understand?" "Yes, I understand," replied the red-haired girl, assuring Jaromil that she was firmly on his side and never loyal to anyone else. "How can you say that? If you were really on my side, you would never let him leave the country!" "What can I do? I'm not strong enough to pull him back!" "You should have informed me immediately. I would have known what to do. But, you lied to me! Made up a story about your girlfriend! He was trying to fool me. Now you have the nerve to say you're on my side!" She swore that she was by his side and that she would be faithful to him no matter what. "If that's the case with you, you're going to call the police!" "What do you mean, policeman? Surely you don't think I'm going to hand over my own brother to the police! It's impossible!" Jaromil could not tolerate any opposition. "Impossible? If you don't call the police right away, I will!" The girl repeated that a brother was a brother, and she could hardly imagine denouncing him to the police. "So a brother means more to you than me?" of course not.But that's not the same thing as reporting him to the police. "Love is all or nothing. Love is complete or it doesn't exist. I am here and he is on the other side. You must be on my side, not in the middle. If you are with me together; you must think what I think and do what I do. The fate of the revolution is exactly the same as mine. Whoever opposes the revolution is against me. If my enemy is not your enemy, then you are my enemy !" No, no, she was not his enemy; she would be with him in all things.She fully understands that love is all or nothing. "That's right. Love is all or nothing. Compared to love, everything else pales, and everything else fades away." Yes, she totally agrees, that's exactly how she feels. "That's the best test of true love—true love has no regard for what other people think. But you're always listening to other people, full of all kinds of concerns, and hitting me over the head with those concerns." She didn't want to hit him on the head at all, not at all.But she was afraid of hurting her brother, terribly, and she feared that he might be severely punished. "What if he is punished? Suppose he is severely punished—that's a fair price. Or maybe you're afraid of him? You're afraid of leaving him? He's afraid of leaving your family? You want to keep Around them? You have no idea how much I hate your coldness, your half-heartedness, your powerless love!" No, it wasn't true, she loved him and knew how to love. "Yes, that's right," he laughed mockingly. "You know how to love too! The problem is you just don't know how to love! You don't know how to love at all!" That's not true, she said. "Can you live without me?" She swore she couldn't. "If I die, can you live on?" No, no, no. "If I leave you, can you go on living?" No, no, she shook her head. What else could he ask?His anger subsided, but the excitement remained.Death loomed before them, sweet, pleasing death, and they had sworn each other to die if parting happened.In a voice trembling with excitement, he said, "I can't live without you." She reiterated that she couldn't live without him, and they repeated it over and over until they were floating in a cloud of vague desire. on the clouds; they undressed each other and made love.He stroked her cheek, feeling wet.It was beautiful, nothing like this had happened to him before - a woman crying because she loved him.For him, tears are like a magical elixir that brings relief and transcendence to a person's condition.Tears dissolve all physical limitations and create a union with the Infinity; Jaromil, moved by the girl's wet face, realizes that he himself is weeping; they make love, their faces and bodies are soaked, they dissolve Together, their breath and liquid flow together like two rivers, they weep and make love, out of this world, like a lake that leaves the earth and drifts toward the sky. Afterwards they rested peacefully next to each other and continued to caress each other's faces; the girl's auburn hair was tangled into ridiculous strands, her face was puffy and red; she was ugly, and Jaromil remembered his poem, The poem describes how he longed to absorb his lover, even her ugliness, her tangled red hair, her blotchy skin, and old lovers who had stained her flesh; Admire her pathetic ugliness.He swore he loved her, and she swore the same. Since he didn't want to let go of this moment of absolute perfection, the ecstasy of swearing to die, he said again, "I really can't live without you. Absolutely not." "Yeah, if I lost you, I'd feel extra lonely too. It would be horrible." He went stiff. "You mean, you can possibly imagine a scenario where you could live without me?" The girl didn't seem to notice this hidden trap. "I would be very sad." "But you can still live." "If you leave me, what else can I do? But I will be very lonely." Jaromil understood that he had been the victim of a misunderstanding; the red-haired girl hadn't really sworn to die.When she said she couldn't live without him, she merely took it as a customary love jargon, a pretty phrase, a metaphor; poor fool, she didn't know what it was all about— —swear to him a little sadly—and he knows only the Absolute!All or nothing, live or die!With bitter sarcasm, he asked, "So how long will you be sad? A day? Or maybe even a week?" "A week?" She smiled. "My dear Zevi, I can't recover in a week..." She pressed against him, expressing in the touch of her body, her grief could hardly be measured in weeks. But Jaromil was thinking about it.How much is her love worth?Weeks of sorrow.very good!So, what kind of sorrow?A little setback.What is the sorrow of the week?After all, no one can grieve all the time.She grieves for a few minutes in the morning and a few minutes in the evening.How many minutes will it add up?How many minutes of grief is her love worth?How many minutes of grief is he worth? He tried to imagine her life after his death, calm, composed, poised across the abyss of his death. The violent, jealous conversation he didn't want to start again; he heard her voice asking why he looked so distressed; he didn't answer; the soft voice was like an ineffective pain ointment. Then he stood up and began to dress.He was no longer angry; she kept asking him why he was so sad, and he stroked her cheek thoughtfully instead of answering; then he looked her in the eyes and said, "Are you going to go to the police yourself?" She had thought that their beautiful love-making had forever put an end to his ill-will towards her brother, and so his question surprised her, and she was at a loss for an answer. He asked her again (sadly, calmly), "Are you going to tell the police yourself?" She stammered something.She wanted to dissent from him and at the same time was afraid of confrontation.However, the meaning of what she stammered was clear, and Jaromil said, "I understand. You don't want to go there. I'll take care of it myself." He stroked her face again (compassionately, sadly with disappointment). She was confused and speechless.They kiss, and he leaves. When he woke up the next morning, Maman had gone out.While he was still asleep, she had laid out all his clothes on a chair: shirt, tie, trousers, coat, and of course his underwear.It is impossible to get rid of this twenty-year habit.But that morning, when he saw the folded pair of light gray panties, with its ridiculously shapeless pattern, and the buttons at the opening that actually controlled peeing, he couldn't help but be furious. Yes, he got up that morning as one rises to a big, fateful day.He picked up the panties and held them out to examine them; he examined them with a hatred bordering on fondness.Then he bit one end of his trousers, gripped the other end tightly with his hand, and pulled hard.He heard the sound of cloth being torn.He threw the torn panties on the floor.He hoped his mother would see it lying there. Then he put on a pair of yellow "trainers", put on the shirt, tie, coat and trousers that Maman had prepared for him, and left the house. He surrendered his ID card in the reception room (it was customary to enter NSA buildings) and climbed the stairs to the third floor.Look at the way he goes upstairs.He realized every step of the way!He looked as if he carried his destiny on his shoulders; he climbed the stairs as if he were climbing not only to a higher floor of a building, but to a higher floor of his own life, from which He will be able to look at a whole new panorama. All the signs are auspicious; when he steps into an old classmate's office and sees his face, he knows it is the face of a friend; it smiles at him; it shows pleasant surprise; it is comforting. The janitor's son said he was glad Jaromil had come to visit him.Jaromil was overwhelmed with joy, and sat down on the chair brought for him.For the first time he really felt that he was facing his old schoolmate as a strong-willed adult is facing another adult; equal against equal; man against man. They had a casual chat among old friends, but for Jaromil it was just a happy prelude, during which he eagerly waited for the curtain to rise. "The main reason I came to see you," he said at last, in a serious tone, "is that I want to tell you something important. I have learned that a man intends to flee his country within a few hours. We must Try to stop him." The janitor's son became more attentive and asked Jaromil a few questions.Jaromil answered quickly and accurately. "It is a serious matter," said the caretaker's son, "and I cannot deal with it myself." He led Jaromil through a long corridor and into another office, where he introduced him to an older man in civilian clothes.After the janitor's son introduced Jaromil as an old schoolmate of his, the man gave Jaromil a comradely smile; they called a clerk to take notes; Jaromil had to provide precise information: The girl's name; her occupation and place of employment; her age; her family background; her father's, brother's, and sisters' occupations; the exact time and date she told him of her brother's intention to defect; what her brother was like man; what did Jaromil know about him. Jaromil said he knew a lot, because the girl often talked about him.It was for this reason that he considered the matter so important that he hurried to tell them that he considered them his comrades and countrymen.The girl's brother hates our social system.How unfortunate!He came from a poor family of the lower class, but because he once worked as a driver for a bourgeois politician, he is now willing to become a tool for those who plot treason.Yes, he could say so with complete certainty, for the girl had conveyed to him her brother's point of view quite clearly.According to her, he would gladly shoot Communists.One can well imagine what such a man—whose only plotting object is to undermine socialism—will do once he crosses the border. The three dictated the statement to the clerk in a simple, forceful flat tone, and the older official told Jaromil's friend to hurry and make the necessary arrangements.After the janitor's son rushed out, the official thanked Jaromil for his help.He told him that if the people of the whole country were as vigilant as he was, the socialist motherland would be invincible.He said he hoped their meeting would not be the last. "You must know how many enemies our country has," said the man. "You have been with students at the University for a long time, and you have no doubt known many men of letters. Most of them are honest people, of course, but there are also some of them Lots of troublemakers." Jaromil looked admiringly into the policeman's face.It seemed to him a beautiful face, the deep, criss-crossing lines testifying to an uncompromising, vigorous life.Yes, Jaromil also hoped that their meeting would not be the last.He was happy to do his little bit.He knows where he stands. They shook hands and smiled at each other. Jaromil left the police headquarters with the smile etched into his head (the beautiful, wrinkled smile of a real person).He paused for a moment at the top of the steps leading to the sidewalk.A bright, cold morning hangs over the rooftops of the city.He took a breath of cold air and felt himself so alive that he was on the verge of singing. He first wanted to go straight home and sit at his desk and write poetry.But after a few steps he stopped; he didn't want to be alone.He felt that during the past hour his countenance had hardened, his steps more determined, his voice more determined.He wished to be seen in his new incarnation.He passed the university, speaking to everyone he knew.No one talked about how he looked different than usual, but the sun still shone, and an unwritten poem still soared over the roofs.He went home, shut himself in his room, and filled several sheets of paper, but was not satisfied with what he had written. So he put down his pen and lost himself in daydreams; he dreamed of a mysterious threshold through which a young man must pass to become a man; he knew the name of this threshold: its name was not love, but love. is the responsibility.It's hard to write poetry about responsibility.What image does the word evoke?But Jaromil felt that it was this harsh, rigid word that could evoke new and unexpected images.After all, he writes about responsibility, in the old sense of the word, not imposed by external powers, but a responsibility that people create for themselves, freely choose, that is voluntary, that embodies human bravery and dignity. These thoughts filled Jaromil with enthusiasm, and they helped him paint a new self-portrait.Eager again for this new transformation to be seen, he hurried to the red-haired girl's apartment.It was almost six o'clock again, and she should have returned home long ago.But her landlord told him she hadn't returned from work.The landlord said two men had been looking for her about half an hour earlier, and he had told them so. Jaromil wanted to pass the time, and he walked up and down the street where the red-haired girl lived.After a while, he noticed two men who also seemed to be pacing up and down.It occurred to him that they might be the two whom the landlady had mentioned; then he saw the girl coming across the street.He didn't want her to see him, so he ducked through a dark doorway and watched her briskly walk to the building and disappear inside.He felt uncomfortable and dared not move.Then he saw the two men following her.A few minutes later all three of them emerged; only then did he notice a car parked a few steps from the gate; the two men and the girl climbed into the car and drove away. Jaromil understood that these two mild-mannered men were probably the police; but besides a sense of icy terror, he was also amazed that his behavior this morning had become a real action, which set off a real chain of events. Get mobilized. The next day he hurried to the girl's house in order to intercept her as soon as she came back from work.But the landlord told him that the young girl had not returned since the two men took her away. He was flustered.Early the next morning he went to police headquarters again.The janitor's son still looked very affectionate, holding his hand enthusiastically and laughing.When Jaromil asked why his girlfriend hadn't come home yet, he told him not to worry. "You've made us follow up on something very important. We need to put those germs under a magnifying glass." He said with an ambiguous smile. Once again Jaromil walked out of the police headquarters building into a clear and cold morning; he took another breath of cold air and felt a sense of destiny all over his body.However, there was one difference from the previous day.He thought now that, by his decisive act, he had stepped into the realm of tragedy. Yes, that is exactly what he said to himself as he descended the long steps leading to the street: I have stepped into the realm of tragedy.His friend's remark, "We have to put those germs under the magnifying glass," sparked his imagination.他意识到他的女友现在正落在一帮陌生男人的手中，任凭他们摆布，她正处在危险之中，持续几天的审讯肯定不是闹着玩的事。他也回忆起他的朋友跟他讲过的有关那位黑头发犹太人的事，有关他工作中更冷酷无情方面的事。所有这些念头和想象以一种甜蜜、芬芳和庄严的物质充满了他，以致他觉得自己变得愈来愈大，象是一个有生命的悲哀的纪念碑，大步穿过了街道。 他心想，现在他终于明白了他两天前费力写的那首诗为什么没有价值。两天前他还没有理解自己的行为。两天前他还想写有关责任的诗。可现在一切都很清楚了：责任的庄严产生于爱情血淋淋的、劈开的头！ 雅罗米尔走在街上，被自己的命运弄得很茫然。后来他回到家，发现一封信。特此邀请你下周某某日来见一些我想你会觉得趣味相投的人。信的署名是那位拍片姑娘。 尽管这个邀请并没有任何明确的允诺，雅罗米尔仍然感到非常高兴，因为它证明了这个漂亮的拍片姑娘并不是一个失去的机会，他们的故事还没有结束。一个奇特的念头掠过他的头脑，这封信在这一天来到，在他第一次完全明白了他悲剧的境遇的这一天，这决不是偶然的巧合；显然，这一切都有着某种更深沉的意义。他内心充满一种模糊的、令人鼓舞的感觉，他这两天所经历的一切已经终于使他有资格泰然自若地凝视黑头发拍片姑娘令人眼花缭乱的美丽，怀着男子汉的自信心参加她的聚会。 他的感觉比以前任何时候都好。他的头脑里充满了诗歌，他在桌前坐下。不，爱情和责任不是两个对立的概念，他对自己说。那是用一种曲解的、旧的方式来看待这个问题。要么爱情要么责任，要么爱情要么革命，——不，不，没有这样的两难处境。他并不是因为爱情对他无足轻重才使他的女友面临危险——恰恰相反，他想实现一个人们会比以前更加相爱的世界。Yes, that's exactly what happened.雅罗米尔使他情人的安全遭受危险，正是因为他爱她胜过其他男人爱他们的女人；正是因为他知道，爱情和洋溢着纯洁感情的光明的新世界是怎么一回事。当然，为了未来的世界牺牲一个具体的、充满生气的女人（红头发，矫小，健谈，有雀斑的脸）是可怕的。这种牺牲，是我们时代唯一真正的悲剧，是值得写出一首伟大诗歌的！ 他坐在桌前写作，在房间里踱步，他觉得他正在创作的这首诗是他所有诗歌中最伟大的一首。 这是一个心醉神迷的夜晚，比他能够想象的所有爱情的夜晚还要迷人；这是一个神奇的夜晚，尽管他独自一人在他童年时代的旧房间里。玛曼在隔壁。雅罗米尔已经完全忘记了他一直在生她的气。事实上，当她敲门问他在干什么时，他对她很温柔地讲话。他解释说他需要安静和集中精力。"我正在写我一生中最伟大的诗。"他说。玛曼笑了（母亲的微笑，善于接受、富有同情的微笑），让他处在安静中。 最后他上床睡觉。他突然想到，就在此时此刻，他的女友肯定正被一群男人围住——警察，审讯员，看守。他们可以随心所欲地处置她。观看她换上囚衣，透过单人牢房的窗子窥视她坐在桶上小便。 实际上，他并不真的相信这些极端可能性的真实（他们多半只是录下她的口供，然后就会放她走）。但是幻想却不能控制住；他一次又一次地想象她坐在单人牢房里，由一个陌生男人看守着，审讯员脱掉她的衣服。有件事使他困惑：这些幻想竟然没有激起丝毫的忌妒！ 你必须属于我，如果我想要，你就得死在刑架上，济慈的叫声穿过了多少岁月在回响。为什么雅罗米尔应该忌妒呢？红头发姑娘现在比以前更加属于他：她的命运是他的创造；当她朝桶里小便时，正是他的眼睛在瞧着她；当看守粗暴地对待她时，正是他的手在抚摸她；她是他的牺牲品，他的创造品；她是他的，他的，整个属于他的！ 雅罗米尔不再忌妒，这个晚上，他象一个真正的男子汉那样沉沉入睡了。