Chapter 4 Chapter Four

It was getting late, we left the restaurant.Walking to the door of the restaurant, you asked me if I was in a hurry to go home and if I still had a little time.In fact, I have already prepared, how can I hide this from you!I just said, I still have time.You hesitated for a while, and then asked me if I would like to come to your house to sit for a while and talk casually.Deciding to take the self-evident, I blurted out, "Okay!" I immediately saw that I promised so quickly, you were sad or happy, you were clearly surprised anyway.Today I understand why you are alarmed; now I know that women often have to look unprepared, pretend to be frightened, or furious, even if they are really eager to commit themselves, they must wait until the man begs Again and again, there are many lies, swearing and swearing, and making all kinds of promises, only to turn anger into joy, and half push and half agree.I knew that perhaps only a woman who made a laughing business, only a prostitute would readily accept such an invitation, or else only a naive, pre-grown girl.But in my heart—how could you expect this—it is nothing but the will turned into words, the lovesickness that is now gushing out after thousands of days and nights.Anyway, here's what happened: You startled me, and I started to interest you in me.I found that when we walked forward together, you were talking to me, and at the same time secretly looked at me with a little surprise.Your senses are always magically sure of detecting human emotions, and you immediately feel that there is something unusual, a secret, in this beautiful girl who is like a bird.So you suddenly became curious, and you tentatively asked many questions around the circle, and I noticed from it that you wanted to find out this secret wholeheartedly.But I avoid it: I'd rather look a little fool in front of you than reveal my secret to you.Let's go upstairs together to your apartment.Forgive me, dear, if I tell you that you cannot understand what this corridor, this staircase means to me, what intoxication I feel, what bewilderment, what madness, pain, Almost fatal happiness.To this day, when I think of all this, I cannot help weeping, but my tears have run dry.I feel that everything there is permeated with my passion, a symbol of my childhood lovesickness: at this gate I have waited a thousand times for you, at this staircase I have always eavesdropped The sound of your footsteps, that's where I first saw you, through this peephole I could almost see out of my mind, I once knelt on the rug in front of your door and heard your door key rattle At the sound, I jumped up in surprise from where I was hiding.My whole childhood, all my passions lived in these few meters of space, my whole life was here, and now everything has come true, I walk with you, with you, in your building, in ours Inside the building, my past life rushed down towards me like a torrent.Come to think of it--I may sound vulgar, but I don't know how else to say it--it's the real, dreary, ordinary world up to your door, where At the door of your room, the magical world of children began, the kingdom of Aladdin; just think about it, I stared at your door hopelessly for a thousand times, and now I walked in with fascination, you can’t imagine To--only vaguely at best, and never quite, my dear! --what did this one minute that passed so quickly take away from my life.

I stayed by your side all night that night.You didn't expect that before this, no man had ever been close to me, no man had touched or seen my body.But how could you think of that, my dear, because I have no resistance to you at all, and I resist any hesitation out of shyness, just so that you won't guess the secret of my love for you, this Secrets will surprise you - because you just like lighthearted, playful life, and no worries.You are deeply afraid of meddling in the fate of others.You are willing to abuse your affections, to everybody, to everybody, but not to make any sacrifices.I say to you now, I was a virgin when I gave myself to you, and I beg you, don't misunderstand me!I don't blame you!You did not seduce me, deceive me, seduce me - it was I who pressed myself against you, threw myself into your arms, and threw myself into my fate.I never never will, I will only thank you forever, for what a night of joy and bliss it was to me!As soon as I opened my eyes in the dark and felt you beside me, I couldn't help but wonder why the stars weren't twinkling above my head, because I felt that my body had already ascended to heaven.No, my dear, I never regretted it, never because of this moment.I still remember that when you fell asleep, I heard your breath, touched your body, felt myself so close to you, and I cried in the dark with happiness.

I was in a hurry to leave early the next morning.I have to go to work in the shop, and I want to get out before your servant comes in, so he doesn't see me.When I was dressed and stood in front of you, you took me in your arms and gazed at me for a long time; was it a vague and distant memory that rolled in your mind, or did you just think that I was radiant and beautiful then?Then you put a kiss on my lips.I broke free gently and wanted to leave.At this time you asked me: "Don't you want to take some flowers with you?" I said yes.You took four white roses out of the blue crystal vase on the desk (well, I recognized this vase when I was a child when I sneaked a peek into your room) and gave it to me.For days afterwards I kissed the flowers.

Before that, we made an appointment to meet one evening.I went, and that night was so ecstasy, so sweet.You spent the third night with me again.And then you tell me you're going away—oh, I've hated your travels since I was a kid! --You promise me to let me know when you come back.I gave you an address to hold - my name I won't tell you.I keep my secrets locked in the bottom of my heart.You gave me some more roses as a farewell, -- a farewell. I have been asking every day for the past two months... Don't talk about it, why bother to describe this kind of hellish torture caused by expectation and despair.I don't blame you, I love you for who you are, for what you are, passionate and forgetful, passionate and not specific.I love you for who you are, and only for who you are, and you've always been and still are.I see from your lighted window that you have gone home long ago, but you have not written to me.At the last moment of my life, I never received a line of your handwriting. I dedicated my whole life to you, but I never received a single letter from you.I waited, waited, waited like a desperate woman.But you didn't call me, you didn't write me a letter...not a word...

My son died yesterday - and this is your son too.My dear, this is the crystallization of those three nights of ecstasy and tenderness. I swear to you that no one will lie under the shadow of death.He is our child, I swear to you, because no man has touched my body since I gave myself to you, and until the child left my body.After being touched by you, I myself feel that my body is sacred, how can I give my body to you and other men at the same time?You are my everything, and other men are just passers-by in my life.He is our child, my dear, of my willing love and your carefree, profligate, almost unconscious tenderness, our child, our son, our only child.So you're going to ask--surprised maybe, maybe just a little surprised--you're going to ask, my dear, why have I kept this kid from you all these long years, until today?Here he lies now, sleeping in the dark, sleeping forever, ready to go, never to come back, never to come back!But how can you tell me to tell you?A woman like me, who spent three nights with you willingly, without resistance, so to speak, opened my arms to you with longing, an unknown woman like me who met in a hurry, you will never, never Will believe that she will be faithful to you, to a man as unfaithful as you, you will never openly admit that this child is your own son!Even if my words make you feel that this matter is not false, you can't completely dispel this hidden suspicion: I see that you are rich, and I try to pass another romantic account on you, insisting that he is yours. son.You will be suspicious of me and there will be a shadow between you and me, a faint shadow of doubt.I don't want to do that.Besides, I know you; I know you so well that you don't know yourself so well; I know that in love you only like lightheartedness, carelessness, fun and games, and suddenly you are in love. You lost your father and suddenly have to be responsible for the fate of another person, you must feel uncomfortable.You, who can only breathe life when you are unfettered and free, must feel some kind of connection with me.You must hate me for this connection--I know, you will hate me, against your own sane will.Maybe it's just a few hours, maybe it's just a few minutes, you will think I hate you, you will find me hateful - but I have self-respect, I want you to think of me for the rest of your life without any worries in your heart.I would rather bear all the consequences alone than become a burden to you.I want you to think of me always with love and with gratitude: in this I would like to be unique among all the women you associate with.But of course, you never thought about me, you forgot about me.

I don't blame you, my dear, I don't blame you.Forgive me if sometimes a trace of resentment flows from my pen! --my child, our child is dead, lying there in the flickering light of the candle; I clenched my fists against God, and called God a murderer, and I was sad and bewildered.Forgive my complaints, forgive me!I also know that you are kind-hearted and willing to help others from the bottom of your heart.You help everyone, even strangers come to you and you help.But your kindness is so strange, it is open to everyone, everyone can take it, take as much as you want, your kindness is boundless, but please forgive me, it is not easy.It requires people to remind them and to get them by themselves.You help others only when they ask you for help, when they beg you, and you help others out of shame, out of weakness, not out of wish.Let me tell you frankly, in your eyes, people in distress and suffering are not necessarily more lovable than your brothers in happiness.It is difficult for people of your type to ask for help, even from the kindest people in their hearts.Once, when I was a kid, I saw through a peephole a beggar who rang your doorbell, and you gave him some money.You gave him the money quickly before he even said a word, but you gave him it with a sort of frightened air, and rather haste, wishing he'd go away, as if you were afraid to look him in the eye.I will never forget the unease, shyness, and fear of being thanked when you help others.So I never go to you.Yes, I know that you will help me at that time, even if you are not sure, this is your child, you will help me.You'd comfort me, give me money, give me a lot of money, but always with that dark impatience you'd want to push the nuisance away from you.Yes, I believe, you'd even persuade me to kill the baby in time.I fear nothing more than this--because I will do nothing if you ask me to!How could I refuse any request from you!And this child is my lifeblood, because he is your flesh and blood, he is you again, and he is no longer you.You happy carefree being, I have never been able to keep you, I think, and now you are handed over to me forever, imprisoned in my body, bound to my life.Now I have you at last, I can feel you growing in my veins, your life is growing, I can feed you, feed you, caress you, kiss you, as long as my heart has it eager.You see, my dear, that is why I was so happy when I found out that I was pregnant with your child, and that is why I have kept it from you: now you will never hear from me again. slipped around.

Of course, my dear, these days were not all happy times, as I had imagined in advance, and there were months of horror and misery, and a vile loathing of people.I'm having a rough time.I could no longer go to the store to work a few months before the delivery, otherwise my relatives would notice and tell my family about it.I didn't want to ask my mother for money - so I sold what little jewelry I had to support me until the time I was due.A week before the birth, my last few gold coins were stolen from a cupboard by a washerwoman, and I had to go to a maternity hospital to give birth, and only poor women, abandoned and forgotten women went there as a last resort , among these impoverished dregs of society, the child, your child, was born.It was an unbearable place to live: strange, strange, all strange, the people we lay there, strangers, lonely, hating each other, driven by poverty, by the same misery, into this dreary room. , into the ward, full of chloroform and blood, full of shouts and groans.The humiliation, the moral and physical humiliation that the poor have to suffer, I suffered there.I endured day and night with prostitutes and other patients who despicably bullied their fellow patients who had the same fate; Lifting the sheets over women, and groping over them with a false scientific attitude; I suffer the insatiable lust of the housekeeper--ah, where one's shame is Eyes nailed to the cross, scourged by their venomous words.Only the plaque bearing the patient's name was still her, for what lay on the bed was nothing more than a twitching lump of flesh to be fumbled about by the curious, an object to watch and study—ah, Women who bear children in their own homes for husbands who are tenderly waiting for them will not know what it is to be born alone, defenseless, as if on a laboratory table!If I read the word hell in any book, I know that today I will suddenly and involuntarily think of that crowded, watery ward full of groans, laughter and screams, There I suffered enough, and I would think of this slaughterhouse where shame was tortured.