Chapter 23 two

26 Later we drove home around nine thirty.Angera turned the car onto the more trafficked coastal road.The headlights of the headlights blinded one's eyes, and a Citroen was driving in front of us, very slowly and carefully. "This guy drives me crazy," said Angera, who repeatedly tried to overtake the Citroen, but to no avail. "He's drunk, sure, that's why he's driving so carefully. Hold on, I'm sure, it's okay now." She sped to overtake.When we were parallel with the Citroen, it suddenly changed speed.Another car was coming, headlights on. "Damn it!" said Angera.She hits the brakes.This time something went wrong.Suddenly the Mercedes slid sideways, skidded, brushed past the Citroen, and headed left, into the sea.I said nothing, and neither did Angera.She turned the steering wheel back and forth in desperation.To no avail, her Mercedes continued to skid.It didn't slow down either.The oncoming car swerved into the wrong lane and headed straight for the Citroen.The Citroen also turned into the wrong lane, and the two cars honked and passed each other.Then the oncoming car pulled up next to us, so close I could make out three startled faces inside the car.The Mercedes, narrowly missing the car, veered left, bumped on the pavement, rattled down the bank, onto the sand, and into the rough water.It slides, deeper and deeper, forward and downward.Suddenly I saw that the water threatened to drag us away.Angera cut off the gas pedal.The car was thrown back and forth.The waves washed over the half-waist of the car, and the water on the glass windows splashed high.

"Get out!" I yelled. "I can't open the door!" Angera was surprisingly calm. I can't open my door either.The water pressure was too strong.I banged on the door desperately, feeling my heart pounding in my throat.I pushed hard, and the door opened a crack.Water gushed into the car, but at least the door can now be opened.I grabbed Angera, who was slumped there, and I pulled her out of the car.The waves hit my stomach and knocked me over.I choked on a lot of salt water, and then got back on my feet.Where is Angera?there!Her head was sticking out of the car, and the waves washed over the car.She lost consciousness, and I dragged and dragged.She is heavy and heavy.I can't do it.Wave after wave crashed, and I fell again and again.I lifted Angera's head, feeling my strength slipping away.Two cars stopped on the road above, and someone ran over and waded through the water to me.Together we lifted Angera out of the car and dragged it up the slope."I'm going to call the police at the next fast food restaurant," said the driver of a stopped car, before driving away.We put Angera on the pavement.The second driver took a quilt from his car.She lay on it and soon came to life.

"Robert!" she looked at me with terrified eyes. "What's going on? I put on the brakes, but something happened. I drive so carefully, I've never—" "Yes, Angera, yes, be quiet, and it's all right now." "What if something happens! Robert, I nearly killed us both!" She trembled.I wrapped her in the comforter and stroked her hair and her face. "It's over," I said.I say it over and over again.During this period, many cars stopped, and a group of curious people surrounded us.Ten minutes later, the first police car from Cannes arrived with three men in police uniforms.They jump out.

"How did it happen?" a policeman asked me.The second stood beside him, and the third asked the curious to keep going, because the road was very narrow.I told what happened. "Are you drunk?" "No." He produced a small glass tube attached to a nylon bag. "Will you blow in there, or shall we have a blood test?" "I guess I'll blow it," I said, "but I'm not driving at all." "Madam is driving?" "Yes." Angera said. They had us both blow into the bag and hold the little glass tube with the crystals in it to the light of a flashlight.

"Both are kind of green," said the first cop. "We drank beer with dinner," I said. "I didn't say you were drunk. But how did it happen?" "The car," said Angera, "there must be something wrong with the car. It was all right until we got to the Breast, and then..." I remembered one thing. "That man!" "What man?" I'm talking about the guy I saw in Juan Pines kneeling by the left front wheel of the Mercedes. "Could the car have been tampered with while we were eating?" I asked.My pants are dripping.

"Why would he do that?" asked the first policeman. "My name is Robert Lucas." "Yes, so what?" "Can you tell Inspector Russell over the intercom what happened to us?" "Russell? Are you also looking into this matter, then..." "right." "Damn it!" the officer ran to his car and spoke with a microphone.When he returned, he said, "The inspector is still at the center. He'll be here in a minute." A wrecker arrived a few minutes later.Two fitters attach a steel cable to the rear bumper of a submerged Mercedes.The men then walked to their car and started it.The cable straightened and the Mercedes was hauled ashore and they dragged it all the way to the road.Angera had recovered by this time.She was wrapped in a quilt and stood beside me.Just as the fitters began to inspect the Mercedes - the police were also present - a black Peugeot speeding from the direction of Cannes pulled up beside us.Russell, Laclos, and Dillman from the Paris Foreign Office jumped out of the car.I introduced Angera to Dillman and Russell.Lacrosse knew her before.

"I was with Russell when we got the news," Lacrosse said. "We called the hotel right away and found Mr. Dillman. He insisted on coming." "This is no ordinary accident," I said, repeating the man I had seen in Juan Pines.A policeman who was inspecting the car with the fitter approached. "We found it," he said, "the front left brake pipe." "What happened to it?" Russell asked. "Breaked off by a pair of pliers and hung off. It's such an easy thing to do right off the bat. When you start the car, you don't notice it at all, and it only leaks a small amount of brake fluid until you hit the brakes. It all got into the air anyway, and nothing got into the brake shoes of the wheels. The car skidded. Whoever did it obviously wanted the people in the car to die—or at least a serious crash."

Then there was a silence. Lacrosse and Russel walked to the Mercedes to look at the snapped brake pipe.I'm going to check it too.We walked back to Angeras and the calm Gaston Dillman. "Very well," Lacrosse told him angrily, "attempted murder. Something new at last." For a few seconds a pained look appeared on Dillman's face. "Attempted murder..." Angeras looked at me. "But why, Robert? Why? What have we done?" "You didn't do anything. I did too much," I said. "Still not revealing anything, right?" Lacrosse asked.He went on to bash Dillman. "A traffic accident. A technical breakdown. Luckily nothing happened. A three-line story in the Dazzling Martin, nothing more."

"Nothing else, no," said Dillman, "or you'd be worse off, Mr. Lucas." "Oh, shut up!" Lacrosse couldn't help it. "We know why news is blocked. Well, it's up to you, Mr. Dillman. If you believe it's the right way, if you believe you can responsible for this..." "Calm down, Louie," said Russell. "You can see that Mr. Dillman is not happy about all this. He has instructions from his superiors." "I don't understand any of this," said Angera. "What does it mean, M. Dillman?" The police chased away the last curious person.Many cars passed us on the coast road, we were just a small group.

"Mr. Lucas will explain it to you, ma'am," Dillman said. "He knows I can't do anything else. Your car will be towed to the Mercedes garage in Cannes for repairs. Are you sure you're all right?" "Yes, for sure. I'm just cold." "The police car will take you home. Madame, I also ask you to remain silent after you have received an explanation from Mr. Lucas. All those present will remain silent—won't you, my gentlemen?" Gaston ? Dillman looked around. Everyone nodded slowly, one after another, and finally Lacrosse. "Thank you," Dillman said.

A police officer took us to a patrol car.I helped Angera into the back seat and sat beside her.The cop climbed behind the steering wheel and started the car.I turn around.Through the rear window I see Gaston Dillman.He stood a little further away from the others, alone.He watched our car off.His shoulders slumped.He stood between the lights of passing cars and the wild silvery black sea, a tall, heavy man of about fifty-five--he looked like every sad, helpless man in the world. A symbol of help, hardship and burden. 7 "I understand Dillman," Angela said.She was lying on the bed and I was sitting naked on the edge of the bed.We changed out of our wet clothes as soon as we got home. "He's not rushing the mission! He has such kind eyes. He must be a kind man. He's just doing his mission." "Yeah," I said, "are you really warm again? Are you not cold?" "I'm fine, Robert...Robert...I'm worried about you." "Nonsense." "No nonsense! They want to see you dead. Oh, God, what if something happens to you—what am I going to do?" "Nothing will happen to me," I said, thinking, I hope so.It's dangerous enough tonight. Angela suddenly jumped up from the bed and hugged me. "I'm scared, very scared! Come to me, Robert, come to me, quick! I want to feel you." She was shaking all over. So I came to Angera and we made love with desperate savagery.Finally, I moved my body away from Angera's and listened to her calm breathing.I turned off the bedside lamp, lay with eyes open in the dark, and heard the train rumble past the sea.I was fast asleep, and it was Angela who woke me up.She held my arm and called my name.I finally woke up. "What's up?" "Excuse me honey, I woke you up! I have to show you something." She stood by the bed, leaning over me. "what time is it?" "At four-thirty," she said, "I couldn't sleep anymore. I got up and walked up to the platform, and that's when I saw it." "what?" "I want to show you. Come." I jumped up from the bed, followed her, hurried across the living room, and ran to the outdoor platform with a sea of ​​flowers, which was bathed in the strong light of the morning sun.I looked down at the city, and its white houses were blindingly bright, like the sea that had become smooth again. "Not down there," said Angera, "up there. On the hillside." She pointed, "By the cypress tree!" Finally, I found it by the cypress tree on the steep hillside behind the house—a Almond tree with pink flowers.In the sunlight, the tree and its flowers glow with an otherworldly beauty. "I've been watching this tree for years," said Angera. "It never bloomed in June. This year it bloomed. Do you remember—the monks on the island, the holy Honourat and the His almond tree?" "say to me. She ran into the living room and came back with a camera. "I have to take a picture of it," she said. "It's for us, Robert! I want to have an album with only pictures that mean something to us. This is the first." She held the camera to Right now, "it will always be open for both of us," she says as she puts down the camera.Her eyes slid down from me. "Go back", she said with a smile, "Come back soon..." 8 The empty swimming pool glistens white in the sun. Paul Zeberg was like me, in shirt and trousers.As the weather got hotter by the day, we strolled back and forth in our sandals in the shade of fir, olive and palm trees.In the scorching sun, through the tree trunks, I saw the colorful flower garden outside Ild Hermann's house, and I always saw the swimming pool.I saw that there were several stone slabs for diving.There are several branches at the bottom of the pool.Little animals jumping up and down there, little lizards.It is one o'clock in the afternoon, and the park is quiet. Seeberg was caught off guard by my visit as soon as he got back.I was expecting him to delay and evade, but he stated that he wanted to answer my questions immediately.So I went out of town in a car. I reported what Fred Molitor from the security company told me when I was in Frankfurt. According to him, it was Zeberg who insisted that he tell me.I did not say a word that I visited all the bankers, or that I knew something about the meetings of the bankers at the "Frankfurt Palace". Zeberg nodded. "It's all true, absolutely true." Even in his shirt and trousers, he looks like a prim, dead-right banker. "Molitor called me, and I told him he should tell you everything. Does what Molitor tell you help you?" "I can't say for sure. So I want to talk to you." "Of course I support you, as long as I can." He exudes that "Bitter Man" perfume smell again.He was brimming with energy, and the Frankfurt work, flight and climate change didn't seem to affect him at all. "I don't need to tell you that when I heard what Molitor said, I was completely taken aback." "I can imagine that. You must be shocked to learn that your boss rummaged through your office desks, filing cabinets and safes as if you were a criminal." I said this very provocatively, and he reacted strongly. "Criminal? Why? No, no, I don't see it that way!" "Please……" "No, please listen to me! I realize what you're guessing. But you see, it's not like that, it can't be like that. Mr. Herman doesn't have to rummage through my office—looking for some kind of paper— —I hid it like a prisoner...certain paperwork from every transaction." "Why didn't he have to?" "Because—you are not familiar with banking operations, Mr. Lucas—because nothing can happen in a bank without Mr. Hermann's consent, arrangement, or execution without his knowledge. Although I am Plenipotentiary, but I don't have a small bank in a bank. The foreign exchange section belongs to the family like all the others. So Mr. Hermann can't expect to find anything he doesn't know about." Seeberg in front of a pillar Pause, its Janus head is weathered and partly covered with moss.This head has two faces, one facing forward, looking into the future, and the other looking backward, looking back.He considered the double-faced head thoughtfully. "Would he guess, what would he find?" I asked, "I mean, would he guess or be afraid—the guy at the security company told me he was so excited—would he Afraid of missing data?" "Looking back, looking ahead—that's what I'm doing now," said Zeinberg absently. "Yeah, sure, Mr. Hermann might worry about that. But what kind of data would it be? If It's the kind that's about a deal - let's say I actually did something like that - and it doesn't make sense for me to destroy the material about the deal, the partner has a copy. I think that's telling .” "Yes," I said, "since we've made you yourself the theoretical perpetrator for the sake of discussion, it's also presumable that you wouldn't put you and someone else at the bank and Herman unknowingly Some kind of information or other confidential text of transactions conducted in secret under the circumstances is placed in your office..." "It's actually a lovely hypothetical," Zeinberg said. "Plus—if I have something to hide in the bank, I'll take it with me anyway before flying to Chile." "Oh, really, you went to Chile." "Attend the World Trade Conference. Before the conference, I also dealt with the banking affairs there. The conference started on April 13th. I flew over on March 29th." "That is to say, you were unaware of Mr. Hermann's actions during the night until you received a call from Molitor." "Yes. As soon as I heard of Mrs. Hermann's death, I flew to Nice and came to Cannes to take care of Mrs. Hermann." "Then why did Molitor's report surprise you so much?" "My God!" said Zeberg, sitting down on a stone bench next to a pillar with a double-faced head. "You ask me this? Of course I believed it was an accident or murder until I got the call, like everyone here, including Mrs. Hermann." "She still believes it was murder," I said. He didn't listen, and continued quickly: "After receiving the call, I only have one explanation: Mr. Herman is not looking for certain materials, but wants to destroy certain materials." "You said that there are always multiple copies of this kind of material." "It's possible he managed to get it all in order to cover up something. Maybe he didn't succeed. Maybe tragedy happened because of it." "That is to say, you no longer believe in murder or accident?" "Yes, Mr. Lucas." "Then what do you believe now? Please tell me!" "I believe it was suicide," said Plenipotentiary General Paul Zeberg, "in desperate circumstances." 9 Birds chirp among the branches, and bees hum. "I said nothing to Mrs. Hermann about it," said Seeberger - "her condition does not allow it. I will tell you the truth about everything I found out in Frankfurt - together with Mr. Grosse. He was the first agent in charge of the business before I finally returned to Frankfurt. I worked with him for several days and nights. The facts are not good, but I will tell you anyway. In my absence, Mr. Hermann and John Key Allwood bought up the pound before it was depreciated, made loans in the pound, and the sum totaled up to half a billion marks." "It's very kind of you to tell," I said, "because Tax Agent Kesler found it out, too." "You know?" I nod. "You know that Mr. Herman bought it at Killwood's commission?" "right." "And you know the inconceivable, enigmatic, insane thing: Hermann didn't dump the pound to the Commonwealth Bank immediately, plus that crazy pound loan that cost the bank $40 million?" "I know that too," I said, thinking that perhaps, as he said, Zeberg was so eager to tell me that he had no other way out. "The bank is not going to be shaken by this," Zeberg said. "I've dealt with it for the time being. Everything continues to run. But do you understand why those pounds stay in our bank? Why do we issue loans in pounds? What are Mr. Hermann's plans?" "I don't understand that," I said, "as little as you do." "Oh," he said, "you mean, I know. But it's not right! I really don't know. No one knows. No one who knows understands." "Informed person, this refers to you and that Grosse, and Mr. Sagantana, Fabian, Towell and Tenedos, right? To make a long story short, Mr. Zeberg, I also know that all These gentlemen, including Kilwood, have created a multinational corporation, this Codd Corporation, this devil's company that makes electronics—with your bank as your home bank." "John Killwood is the sole agent of Cord & Company," he said. "Yes." I said, looking at the double-faced portrait.Will he be hundreds of years old? "I don't hide anything from you. I don't hide anything about the money transactions that Kilwood often conducts with us on the commission of groups, and the purchase of weak currencies before they depreciate. It's just that Herman always sells weak currencies immediately. to the Commonwealth Bank." "Tell me, Mr. Seeberg, do you think this transaction is ethical?" "They're legal. That's the point. A banker can't do anything illegal. Money has its own morals. That's what I said, and it sounded sarcastic. I'm not a cynic, but I'm not a hypocrite either." "Contrary to Mr. Hermann," I said. "What do you mean? That's it!" He bit his lip, "It seems that you also know about the report, the report he made at the 'Frankfurt Palace' the night before he went to my office to rummage through. You mean that A speech on the banker's ethics and his responsibility to society, won't you?" "Yes, Mr. Seeberg." He is silent.I waited a long time, then said, "You don't want to judge your boss." "Never speak ill of the dead," he said. "But if he's in that kind of business, he'd be a hypocrite for talking there," I said, "and you're telling me that money has its own morals. I'm sure those who make dealing with money their business completely forget After all, millions of lives hang on the money. Money becomes an object to them. An object has no morals. Therefore, these people are naturally amoral in their profession. Otherwise they are often For better or worse - just like ordinary people, yes, they sometimes even make up for their conscious or latent unhappiness. I think of Rockefeller, Carnegie, and the museums, hospitals, schools, and paintings they donated to society , thinking of their funding and the good they need to do for the general public—only outside the sphere of their profession, of course." "Speak with confidence," he said. "You are most likely to be right." "That's for sure," I said. "How do you explain Hermann's behavior after his Frankfurt speech?" "Just a vague guess." "what is it then?" "Perhaps because of the attacks on his financial dealings with Kilwood, he worried that his good name would be ruined." "Good reputation," I said. "So your bank and Mr. Herman are clearly not doing particularly well." "It's legal." "You have already said that. What can you boast of?" "No." "Ah! Moral scruples? So far, Mr. Seeberg, everything you have said is convincing." "I know, but not anymore," he said. "Because you wanted to protect your dead boss?" He shrugged. I said, "There must be something going on in Kilwood, otherwise he wouldn't be so self-blaming and say something that cost him his life, because someone wants to stop him and must stop him from continuing to speak. Who do you think this could be?" ?” "I don't understand that, Monsieur Lucas. Besides, this afternoon, Monsieur Dillman, the representative of the French government, has an appointment with me to have a conversation. Let me tell you by the way, what I am going to tell him is what I am going to tell you." Tell you exactly the same." "Isn't this risky?" "On the contrary, Mr. Lucas. As you must be aware, Mr. Dillman has been sent here on a special mission. I must now find ways to preserve the reputation of our bank. That is why I will Tell this man everything, because he was chosen to avoid any social unrest. Is there anything I can do smarter?" "You did the right thing," I said.We glanced at each other hastily, and then we both looked at the double-faced head.Zeberg looked at the future-looking face of the double-headed head, and I looked at the retrospective face. 10 This afternoon I also met with Russell, Lacrosse, and Kesler and told them about my conversation with Seeberg.We're sitting in La Clos's office next to the old pier.The fans turned on again, but our brows were still dripping with sweat.When I finished my report, Russel said: "Poor Dillman. They gave him a damn job. Zeberg is a cunning fox. He actually forced the French government with his confession." — and thus also the governments of Germany and other countries — to protect the Hermann Bank. That's how it will work out." I said to Kesler, "You've uncovered a lot of truth, but not all of it." He retorted defiantly: "I've talked to Kilwood! He trusts me! I've drained him. What can I do if he doesn't tell me all, if he lied to me once? What are you talking about?" Everything, I have already said almost in Düsseldorf." "You don't know anything about that multinational corporation? Everyone except Trabo is involved with it," I said. "That's right." He drew back. "But now we know. It seems they are all suspicious." "All, yes," I said. "How is your daughter, Mr. Lacrosse?" "Oh, she has passed the dangerous period." He nodded at me friendly, then became serious again. "We have a cabale here," he said, "yes, a mafia." I was compelled to write this French word because it has no equivalent in German.The cabale in French is equivalent to such a group of people. They have sworn to unite no matter what happens. They are extremely mysterious and concealed... Around six o'clock, I took a taxi to Angera's place.I've called but no answer, although she's told me she's working from home in the afternoon.I went to her with an ominous feeling.what will happenMy uneasiness intensified when I later rang her doorbell and she opened the door for me.She greeted me politely and nonchalantly.I wanted to kiss her on the mouth but instead I kissed her face because she turned her head away.Wearing one of her many bathrobes, she made her way out to the terrace ahead of me, where the flowers were once again in full bloom in the setting sun. She sits on the swing.I stopped in front of her and looked at her.She was silent.Her hands trembling slightly as she lit the cigarette. "What's the matter, Angera?" "I had a visitor," she said, "an hour ago." "Who has been here?" "Mrs. Inger Dryer." "Who?" "You got it. Your wife's friend. She said she came by car from Juan Pines. She got my address in the phone book. That time at the 'Golden Goat' I was very loud , stated my name very clearly—the opposite of yours." "What does it mean?" "When you say my name, it's hard to understand." "I want to save you embarrassment," I said. "Yes, of course, I thought so too at the time." "Angera! Why are you talking to me like this?" I tried to hug her shoulder, but she avoided it. "Please don't." "Well then, really, I don't understand! What does this woman want from you?" "This woman," said Angera, her voice suddenly low, sad, and frustrated, "she told me that she called your wife as soon as Eze met us. Things to do, of course. I thought of that then." "I thought of that too. So what! It doesn't matter to either of us!" "Really?" asked Angera, very quietly, "don't you care, Robert?" "What do you mean? Angera! What is the matter, Angera?" "Your wife told you a lot on the phone. Then she wrote them down in detail. Express. Airmail. The letter arrived today. Mrs. Dreier thought I made her sympathize." , She felt that she was obliged to let me read this letter. She also received this commission." Anger stretched her hand into the pocket of her coat, "Here is the letter." She handed me an envelope.I recognized Karin's handwriting and pulled out several pages from the envelope, which were covered in Karin's neat handwriting. "Read it," said Angera in a feeble voice. I read: My dear Inge! Very kind of you to call me and tell me you ran into Robert with a woman and they were kissing and hugging like an intimate couple.I've told you briefly on the phone what's going on and how I feel about it.I'm just writing in a little more detail now so you don't need to worry. Contrary to what you and your husband think - when you see Robert like this, you're bound to believe it! --This is a fact.The truth is simple, as I have told you: We have a modern, very happy marriage.We have long agreed that each can go his own way, but we will always remain with each other and love each other - due to deep spiritual roots.You see, dearest Inge, your husband and you live a happy, harmonious marriage in an ordinary form, a little different from us.We are so dependent on each other spiritually, nothing can separate us at any time, Robert can replace me, or I can replace him!After ten years of married life, we are so accustomed in the realm of sexuality that we seek and need constant new experiences.You can accuse me of that - I will only tell you the truth.This experience of sexual desire, this constant 'affairing', did not have an adverse effect on our marriage in the slightest.Quite the opposite!We grow closer.What do you think connects two people if they give each other so much freedom?Of all the men I've ever had, I can't compare to Robert.He kept saying that the same was true of his dealings with his girls and women.When he came home from his travels, he told me at length of his latest adventure, and described the most intimate situations to me with that wit you know, making fun of the stupid cows, Those poor little bunnies.He, somewhere in the world, was declaring his great love to them.He performed all the hidden plots to me exactly!You know how crazy this drives me?I did the same, and I played out to him the story of me and all my men.It always drives us both crazy! I put down the letter and looked at Angera.She looked past me, looking down at the city and the sea. "Angela! This is a vile, well-planned letter of lies! It was written to give it to you!" I cried. "There is not a word of truth in it! It's all about an abandoned woman." vengeance! Angela, I beg you..." "You read on," she said. "I tell you..." "I tell you to read on!" I read: What do you think we will be then, Inger?Just call it a perversion, okay.But I tell you, we stayed out of bed for days after that.We pounced on each other like animals!Well, dear Inge, you have a lovely husband, and you are a good, devoted wife yourself—I know you can't understand me and Robert.But that's how we keep our marriages as close as newlyweds.Of course Robert told me that he met that Angela Delphia in Cannes.He's going to do another great play, as we call it.I told you this on the phone.He was having an affair again, with that poor woman, she must have been beautiful, maybe lovely.He told her that all he wanted in the world was her... "That's vile!" I said, "Oh, that's nasty!" ...that he couldn't live without her, that his marriage had been dead for years, that I was a monster—all that stuff about games, you understand?When you told me on the phone that this woman left a very good impression on you, I didn't pay attention at first, because I was already familiar with all this.Then, later, I got suspicious.There's got to be a limit to the game between two people like Robert and me!This lies in the misfortune of others.It never occurred to me.Now I'm thinking about it for the first time.I thought about calling Robert and telling him he should stop this shit, but you know what a guy he is.He would crack his jokes and make me laugh.So I am writing to you, asking you to show this letter to the woman with whom he is now befriending.I ask her forgiveness who has not met, for him and for me, I am no better than him.I cannot expect her to understand what Robert is doing and doing with her.Poor thing.I really feel sorry for her.For the first time I was ashamed of what Robert and I had done over the years.We have to stop this and it can't go on like this.Call me again, dearest Inger, with sincere regards to your husband.Wishing you another wonderful time in the South.From what you've written, it must be wonderful there.hug you! Your old friend Karin I put down those papers. "Angeira," I said, "God, you don't believe what's written in it?" She didn't answer, looking down at the city and the sea. "Angelat, please speak!" "This Inger Dreyer comes across as a genuinely disturbed person. I've known couples who have played this game myself," she said. "But I didn't do that!" "What are you calling?" “我必须喊！这是胡说八道！我爱你，昂热拉，只爱你，你是我的生命——这你还没有理解吗？你还感觉不到吗？我没向你证明吗？我离开了卡琳，我提出了离婚，我搬进了酒店……” “是的，”她说，“你一生中已经这样做过多少回了？你自己也记不清了吗？” “你……那么你相信这个女骗子了。”我颓丧地说，“这不可能。昂热拉，请听我说！在咱们经历过这一切之后——你会相信这些谎言？” “这一切都属于游戏，是不是？”昂热拉问，“然后，当你又回到她身边时，你向你妻子表演一切，现在这一幕，我们在床上做的一切，我所讲的一切，一切？” “我绝不会再去她身边！” “你又喊起来了。”昂热拉说，“请你别嚷。我只是一个人。” “昂热拉，我以我们的爱情向你起誓，这是一个最最无耻的谎言！” “你老是以你的爱情起誓吗？” “我只有一个，你！” “你还这么讲？” I am angry. “你可是一个知识女性，昂热拉！你怎么竟会相信这封信？你怎么会对我怀疑？” “这我也不懂。” “这么说你怀疑了？” She is silent. “你怀疑了？” “你知道，我跟男人们经历过什么，”她说，“因此很容易生疑。很容易怯懦，或者变得现实。你跟我玩得开心吗，罗伯特？” “昂热拉，”我说，感到血又在我的太阳穴里跳动，“你不可以这样跟我讲话！” “不可以？为什么不可以？你就这样敏感吗？可是，可是！一个经常做这种事的男人！哎呀，我忘记了，这一切还属于游戏，当然。这回，当你回家去时，你有一大堆好讲的啦。” 我真想放声大哭，无法再听这种话。 “昂热拉，我请求您，理智些！” “我非常理智。”她说，“别担心，罗伯特，我不再从平台上往下跳了。你跟卡琳的共同生活一定非常刺激。” “你要是再讲一句这种话，我就走。”我大声喊道，“你真是疯了！没法跟你谈！要么你现在马上相信我，这一切都是谎言和卑鄙，要么……” “要么？” “要么我就走！我为你做了一切！我不能也不想受到这种怀疑和对待。” “第二场结束。”昂热拉说。 我快步上前，狠狠地抽在她脸上。 她的头歪向一边。 “对不起！”与此同时我绝望地喊道，“请你原谅我，昂热拉，原谅我！”我想将我的手放在她肩上，可是她推开了我。 “现在你可以走了。”她说。 “我就走！”我说，感到眼泪涌进我的眼眶。 “对，”昂热拉说，“而且赶快。” 我一脚踢到一只放满唐菖蒲的落地花瓶上。它碎了，花儿跟碎陶片飞向四面八方。水喷溅。我转身就走，在身后摔上了门。在载我下去的电梯里，我失声痛哭。我全身哆嗦。楼梯到了下面，但是我无力离开它。我倚在一个角落里，泪流满面。我的双腿再也驮不动我了。我瘫作一团，用双手擂电梯，粗鲁地大声诅咒。我是那么虚弱，站不起身来，更别说走了。