Chapter 4 third chapter

After get off work on Monday, I took the dog to Bidder's.I was in a good mood, I didn't want to stay at home alone, and suddenly wanted to get together with someone uncharacteristically. Bid stared at me with wide open eyes. "It's nice that you look a whole new person with such a perm, so refreshed!" She examined me from top to bottom. "Look, Jurgen will be here soon (he's her boyfriend, the business representative), and he's only home on the weekends. We're going to have dinner together, shall you go?" The dog down there.If it was in the past, I would have rejected it a long time ago. I don't want to be a light bulb.But I'm happy now, so I went with it.Jurgen is a Rhinelander and likes to tell local or foreign jokes.Obviously, he needs an audience, because as an audience, I'm a welcome person.He's not a rogue, I don't need Bid to guard against him, he's an honest man; he didn't play with her.He just wanted some entertainment and company during the normal hours of the week, whether over food or in bed; Bid seemed to hit it off with him.She responded with a genuine laugh at his jokes, which eventually infected me.Only the dog was a little dissatisfied.Although I secretly gave it a mutton bone, it doesn't like people and is not used to it.The dog drooled and barked menacingly under the table.I had no choice but to take it out and leave the couple alone.I envied Bid's loose behavior with men, which I was not capable of.My friendship with Witold was different, less superficial; but pleasant nonetheless.

A week later, on a sunny Sunday morning, I waited excitedly for Witold's arrival on a leash.The parking lot in the forest was very remote and desolate, and the sound of cars in the distance could not be heard.It's been a little past the agreed time, and I'm a little upset, the excitement is fading.Maybe he won't come at all!Suddenly, I was awakened from my melancholy thoughts by his voice, which said behind me: "Good morning, mysterious strange woman!" Witold came on his bicycle, a little out of breath, because he was not on the main road, but a forest path. I gazed at him beaming.But he seems to have written down my car number.He smiled a little when he noticed that I noticed it right away.

"Today you are going to reveal your identity, as we agreed. Well then: your name? I have to call you after all." "Rosemary," I said with some embarrassment; I did not suit the name, and, like most women, I have always been dissatisfied with it.He also seemed to think that I didn't quite fit the name. "Go ahead," he said. "Louise," I continued. He couldn't be happier. "Keep talking," he demanded sarcastically. "Tiha," I said softly. Witold laughed out loud.I knew what to do next, he was a German teacher after all.

"Tiha," he repeated with a broad smile, "I would have liked to know your name. But it's really unheard of," and he quoted Fontana quite naturally: " The Jarres were at the July Festival, and Gorm Grümer was sitting in the hall, next to him in an ivory chair—Tiha Danaport, his wife." And he kept laughing: "I'll call you Mrs. Teeha, because I've never met anyone with that name. No doubt you've been called Rose or something like that, but with you This lack of sentimentality is entirely inappropriate. But, seriously, please give me your full name, and your address, or I shall feel a little duped anyway."

I looked at him beaming again, which I did naturally, and told him all he wanted to know. "By the way, I have a Danish grandmother from whom I got my name Tiha. You can just call me Tiha without the 'Mrs.' I'm no longer called Rosie, which is great gone." "Agreed, Teeha, my name is Reiner." "If you call me Tiha, I'll call you Witold," I explained. "Where did you find that name?" he asked cheerfully. "I've never been called by that name. Oh, yes—it's a name I've written in my book because it sounds nice." . As a kid, I was very ashamed of that second name."

We're making all kinds of jokes about our new names, but still referring to each other as "you."So we had walked for a good half an hour, and the dog seemed very happy. "I have a lot of worries on my mind right now," Witold said. "Where did you put that pistol?" "I hid it well at home, where no one can find it. But I'll get rid of the gun right away." Witold trembled a little.What was my plan?I meant to throw the gun into the Rhine, quietly, from a bridge. "But you'll have to do it quickly," he said unhappy. "It's better to do it tonight, and it won't be in the dark! I thought this gun was gone. It was my wife's Inherited from an uncle, maybe the police will trace it to the source. I want to ask, where did you learn to shoot?"

I promised him that I would throw the revolver into the river today. "I can't actually shoot. But when I was young, I had a friend who would go to the shooting range with his dad on Sundays and practice shooting. I would go with them a lot and throw a few shots every once in a while. I basically knew how to use Such a weapon, but the time has passed, and I was far from being a marksman." "I do remember," said Witold, "Gorm Grümer is still waiting for you at home, and perhaps Jung Harratt?" I was a little flattered that he cared about my private life, and I assured him loudly that no one was waiting for me.

"I've had some disappointing experiences," I suggest.Witold looked into my eyes suspiciously, but his manner was so proper that he didn't ask any further questions. After a while, I asked, "Is your marriage happy?" He was silent for a long time. "You know, a question like this can't be answered with a simple 'yes' or 'no' at least. We'll be married for twenty-three years this fall. If our marriage was a mess, it certainly wouldn't have lasted this long of." I am very satisfied with his answer.We happily continued our stroll, occasionally calling our own names in playful tones, often to the point of laughing out loud from ourselves.When we walked across a stream, Witold handed me his hand, and stayed in his hand for a while, and our eyes often looked at each other and smiled for a moment.

After walking for two hours, I felt hot all over my body. The beautiful new sandals had already caused several blisters on my feet. I was thirsty, and even the dog was looking for water in the potholes on the ground.I stopped among the raspberry bushes and picked some blackberries for myself.But as an old teacher, Witold not only has a timetable in his mind, but also a roaming map in his pocket.We can take a break now, he promised.In a small village, he knew a small hotel, and we sat in the courtyard behind the hotel.The other guests were all huddled in the stale room.Witold took a tray, a jug of cider and two cheeses from the tavern.

"I ordered a few without asking what you wanted," he said, "but there's nothing very tasty here." He was right. The dog drank the water and finally relieved his fatigue.I gulped down two glasses of juice in one gulp, the world was golden or rose red in my eyes, and I had a strong desire to kiss Witold.But I didn't become so bold; I didn't dare to do it. Witold also drank several glasses and talked a lot.During this time, he kept petting the dog at my feet, until I finally realized that he was touching my thigh.I watched him with longing. "It's such a pity," Witold said emotionally, "that our two accomplices met under unusual circumstances. How about we do a whole new hike next Sunday?"

I have no objection to that, and I've already come up with a plan during the boring hours at work. "Can't we both - in front of our witnesses - pretend we've just met! That way the officer won't think we've known each other before, and I won't have anything to do with what's going on." Witold immediately understood what I was thinking.He thought about it for a long time. "Recently, there's been a wine festival all over Berkstrasse, an anniversary fair, an old city fair. We can meet a lot of people by chance at a long table there." This idea pleases me.We both made it clear.Me and a friend of mine (how nice, at least I have Bid!) will be sitting at a table in a tavern in Weinheim, try to get there early, otherwise it will be too crowded.It was pure coincidence that Witold brought a friend (the Dr. Schroeder, the man who let Witold live in the cottage) and sat at our long table.Then our friend is a witness to our acquaintance.It didn't matter much that Bid had met Witold in person, and it might even lighten the atmosphere, I thought. We were both a little tipsy, and sat for a long time in the shady yard, listening to the slow flow of the spring water and watching the wasps flying around the wine glass.Finally, it was time for us to go home.In the parking lot, we parted like two plotters to say goodbye. "See you Saturday!" "Don't forget your revolver!" I was really content to be able to spend such a sweet Sunday at the end of August: I didn't think I could have had such a wonderful experience or expect anything better than this.I am very sensible in thinking this way. As soon as I got home, I quickly took off the sandals I was wearing on my big feet.I immediately remembered the story of the little mermaid in Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale. In order to please a prince, the little mermaid changed her fish tail into two beautiful thighs, but every time she walked, she had to endure great pain, as if she was walking. Walking on a double-edged sword. I was always in a high mood, and on Mondays, I called the Bidders from the office, hoping to arouse her enthusiasm for going out to the wine festival.I have to say hello to her in advance, otherwise it will be bad if she has other arrangements. Bid was shocked when he heard this: "God knows, I've been wanting to take you there for so many years, but I almost never got it. But now that you're old, you'd like to go to the annual market on the anniversary of the church's completion." I even did a curly hair myself! Tell me, are you in love?" "Of course," I joked, "I feel like the world is completely different since I've lived with males." "What are you talking about?" "That's right, the dog eats and sleeps at the same table as me." "Oh, God," sighed Bid, "I've never heard of a man getting his hair done to please a dog, though I've heard of one going for a lot of walks for a dog." But she immediately declared happily that she would go with me on Saturday. "Well, you don't have to arrange for the children to have dinner at home on Sunday. Also, maybe they will go home on Saturday, so that won't work." Bid is always busy with her job and with her Jurgen during the week, but on weekends her three grown children usually flock to her, throwing her dirty laundry and dumping her entire stock Eat clean.I'm glad she didn't have to be bothered like this this time. A week passed quickly.I was absorbed in my insurance work, wrote a long letter to Mrs. Roemer, took the dog for a walk in the park every day, and washed the curtains.Witold called on Friday; he didn't have a phone in Bückebach, so I couldn't get in touch with him anyway. "Well, Tihar, is everything all right? Tomorrow will be all right?" he asked in a conspiratorial tone. "My friend Ernst Schroeder will definitely be there, he's absolutely delighted with the idea, Because his wife happened to be away temporarily." On that Saturday afternoon, around five o'clock, Bid and I walked through the old town of Weinheim.We made an appointment at six o'clock, and I would quietly lead her to sit down at a table in a certain alley.But this is not so easy to do.Bid was vigorously encouraging those strong men. We didn't get there on time, and by the time I got her into her seat, as I had hoped, it was a quarter past six.In addition, there are almost no seats at this table, so where else can Witold sit for a while?At 6:30, I saw Witold and a thick bearded man walking towards us from a distance. They seemed a little drunk.Part joy and part fear, my face was hot and sweaty, and I didn't care what Bid was saying to me. By this time, the two men had sat down at our table. "Excuse me, could you sit a little longer?" Witold asked the couple sitting across from us. Bid said: "This place is crowded enough, you can go to the table in the back, there must be room there." However, the couple stood up.The man said they were leaving soon anyway and he was going to pay.Dr. Schroeder and Witold sat across from me immediately. "Oh, yes," Bid said loudly, "I know who you are! You are the Rainer Engelstein who gives lectures at the Amateur University in Heppenheim every year!" Witold nodded yes. "I'm Peter Spember," she said, "and this is my friend Rosie Helt." Dr. Schroeder also introduced himself. "But the name Rosemary doesn't suit you at all," Witold said rudely, "you don't have another name?" "Tiha," I whispered. Bitra has a long face. "No, Rosie, it's not true! You never mentioned it to me!" I boldly stared at Witold's face and said, "But the name Reiner doesn't really suit you!" For the sake of brevity, we reverted to our respective second names in a moment, and, as Bid suggested, all four addressed us by "you."But ask Ernst Schröder, and he says that he has no second name at all, that Witold sometimes calls him Hakim, and that he studied medicine at university before becoming a pharmacist.Bid's second name was Ed Trout, and she vehemently forbade us to call her by that.Witold's friend Ernst, or Al Hakim, had a pleasant conversation with me for a long time. He told me that his wife went to the United States, his son failed a grade, and that he and Witold were in the Social Democratic Party know.He's starting to bald a bit, and he's kind and easygoing, but really, all I wanted to do was talk to Witold, look at him and smile at him.Bid seemed to get on well with Witold.As long as the man she likes appears, she will immediately become excited.At first I listened absently to the two of them talking seriously about their amateur college courses.Then they chatted animatedly about a soundtrack by one of the middle-aged lecturers and clapped, and by the end I saw them laugh and cry.I'm a little sad that I would have liked to be a part of this hilarious gag.But I couldn't hurt the heart of friendly Schroeder, so I had to answer his questions and be kind to him.As Bid on my side grew happier, my good mood had long since dissipated. Besides, the more alcohol was consumed, the louder the voices at our long table got, so loud that I could hardly hear what was being said at all.At this time, Bi De suddenly turned to me: "Do you have a headache or something, why is your face so ugly?" I assured her that I was fine, but that we could sit somewhere else, maybe somewhere with fresh air, and get out of here.I hope then I can sit next to Witold or just across from Witold.Everyone agrees.Witold even winked furtively at me, and I finally felt relieved. We walked through the narrow streets and alleys, and the colorful lights on both sides of the streets and alleys were really lovely.Ernst Schroeder offered to go to the shooting range. "Now we can get a flower for the ladies!" I don't like shooting, because Witold and I think of bad places to go.Ernst Schroeder kept shooting until he actually got his hands on an ugly lavender plastic orchid.He politely handed me the orchid.Witold said he didn't want to shoot and couldn't shoot. But Peter suddenly said, "I'll shoot for you!" She hit the bull's-eye, Bid was always a technical genius.She got a red rose, and she stuck it into Witold's shirt in such a tedious way that it seemed to me that she fiddled with him for too long.Next, she pompously asked for a swing. "I can't do the swing," said the pudgy Ernst. "It makes me dizzy." I'm not in the mood to let the assembled crowd watch my skirts swing wildly.It seems that I am really being sentimental in thinking so.I saw Bid holding Witold's hand directly, and the two of them were close to each other, shaking into the air amidst the cheers of the crowd.I find this absolutely off-putting. Finally, they returned to the ground.Witold was pale and without a smile. "You look like you are rejuvenating, but you are not twenty years old after all," Hakim said with a friendly face.Bid took advantage of this opportunity to appear as if she were still a girl of twenty (she was a full three months older than me); Chimney sweep is the best career for you. Witold ignored her and walked towards a bench. "My mother," said Ernst Schroeder, "don't make a fuss about it. Are you not feeling well? Or is something suddenly depressing you?" Witold tried to stay calm. "I was on the swing over there, like a madman, and that's when I saw two students from Rattenburg standing under there." "What's the matter?" Bid yelled kindly, "Isn't the teacher a human being!" But Ernst explained to her: "Reiner called in sick, and the students thought he was lying in bed. Then they saw the teacher on the swing and he was really not very serious, so when they wanted to cut class You can get hold of him." "Shut up," interjected Witold, "although I am on sick leave, the diagnosis is 'severe mental failure with depression'. The doctor strictly forbids me to stay in bed for a long time and meditate. He advises me to take more long walks .” Nevertheless, Witold was no longer in a good mood, and suddenly wanted to go home. He said that he had come by bike and had drunk now.I offered to bring him in his car and take him home.But he was sullen and said that I don't need to bother.Ernst can drive him to Rattenburg, where he wants to sleep in his bed at home today. So we parted ways.I picked Bid, and now I have to take her home.When the two of us got into the car, Bid said, "Rosie, you've impressed this Ernst Schroeder. Congratulations!" I am silent.This is not the truth. By saying this, Peter just wanted me to congratulate her on her success. I really wouldn't do her a favor.I actually wanted to get her out of the car on some dark street, but I really didn't even hint my anger and disappointment to her at all.I have no title to Witold, and besides she should believe that all four of us met for the first time. Since I didn't praise her, Bid couldn't help but praise himself. "I didn't have a bad day, though," she began.So disappointing. "This Engelstein and I have many acquaintances in common, and our children all know each other. Then there will be something in common immediately." I continued to remain silent.Bid finally stopped chattering, and we drove in silence down the dark mountain road. Just before arriving at her door, I asked fearfully, "Have you agreed to meet again?" Bid laughed. "Where'd you think. He's a man of his own, but he's not a good match for me. For a night like this, that's all right. But more—no. It's just It would make me unhappy. You know, if such a charming man were suddenly freed, he would promise to find a new partner at least ten years his junior. Believe me, I have experience!" I don't like to hear that. "Your Jurgen is much younger than him," I put in. "Of course," Bid said matter-of-factly, "but you can see for yourself that there is a difference in quality." What she said made me like her a little more, and I didn't say goodbye to her coldly as I had planned. The days after Saturday passed slowly.We didn't make an agreement, and I'm happy to see each other again. When will I see Witold again?I also couldn't call him in Bickelbach, and I didn't want to write a letter, which would destroy our shaky relationship.Besides, I have a kind of fear of the teacher's red pencil, because composition is not my strong point. I didn't get the long-awaited call, but Bid called me. "Hello, Rosie, did you drink at this unusual church anniversary fair?" she asked sarcastically. "By the way, the two gentlemen we captured came to my house on Sunday." I wanted to say a few words in passing, but a vague despair crawled up my throat like a worm, and there was only a vague sound in my throat. "I heard the dog," continued Bid, "you must have not taken him out. Well, let me tell you something: My doorbell rang at about six o'clock on Sunday afternoon, and it happened to be I was in a bad mood because the kids were all at home and I just had dinner ready for them. Guess who, it was that Rainer Engelstein (happy Bid called him 'Leiner' and not 'Wittord') and that Ernst Schröder. They are on their way to Odenwald, and Reiner is back in Rattenburg on Saturday. Todd's bike was brought back to Bickelbach. They were so nice and thought of dropping by my house. I was hanging out almost all the time." I squeaked "hmm".Unfortunately, I have to admit that I really have been at home all the time.Bid continued: "The two of them didn't object to having dinner with us. Coincidentally, I also made a lamb shank with garlic and green beans. Of course these men who don't have women to take care of them like to eat it." I've known for a long time that Bid's cooking was good.It was clear that she was using this to capture these men.There must also be a reason for Jurgen's closeness to her. "And what about the kids?" I asked listlessly. "Oh, sometimes they're so cute. They and Reiner really hit it off. Lacey already knew him through Eva and Reiner's son Max. Even Vivian and Richard have friends in Reiner Reiner chatted with the children with great interest, and was especially interested in Vivian's art major at the university." And what can I offer them?Certainly without the leg of lamb and the three kids who brought life to the party.Bid continued: "I think Ernst is very good, but Reiner is better than him. Rosie, in the final analysis, I want to thank you for letting me know such an outstanding man. Without you, I would never Might know him." I'm crying, but she can't see it.How vilely she spoke! Bid continued to babble: "Reiner will stay in that shelter in Odenwald for another week. Although his sick leave must be a while, but he is going to go back to class on Monday. Yeah, He wanted to go back to his home, and he said there were some things that needed to be dealt with over there." This is a suffocating night, I can't sleep.From the very beginning of my education, one idea has been ingrained in me: It is always the man who should pursue the woman.But what if the man didn't do it?Are the ideas I got from my nun mother completely outdated?Bid was indeed too proactive.Should I also take the initiative to pursue like her, and then go to him?Is this so annoying?I have no idea. On Friday night, I couldn't sit still.If I don't make arrangements, I'm going to be screwed this weekend.I tentatively called Rattenburg, and Witold answered right away, to my surprise. "Rosemarie Helt," I stammered out my name, as I did most of the time. "Who? I don't know you. You made a mistake," he said coldly. "It's me," I screamed like a crying child. "Oh, it's Tiha," he burst out laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't catch it right away." He is not addressed as "you" but as "you".What did I want to say?So I asked about his health and whether he had left Bickerbach a long time ago. "I just got back here this morning," Witold explained graciously. "You know, I'm teaching the twelfth graders. If I miss class like this again, I won't be able to. I also I know full well that hiring substitutes is often not ideal, but after all, I don't want my students to be affected by my low mood." In fact, when we met, I didn't even notice that he was depressed at all. "So do you have to prepare lessons now?" I asked hesitantly. "Of course I have to prepare lessons. But my yard is a mess, and those guys have almost flattened the yard. Since Monday, a Yugoslav cleaning lady introduced to me by a friend has come. But before she came, I still Gotta clean it up and do some research on the washing machine." Bid will definitely offer to help him now.I have to get over my awkwardness at the moment and get my meaning across.I avoid referring to "you" or "you". "I don't have any plans this weekend except I can come and help. After all, I can still do the laundry, and I can also clean up the yard. During this period, I can also make some coffee, buy a cake or something. " To be on the safe side, I didn't mention cooking. "That's very polite. But nobody can help me with the cleaning. I have to do it myself. I can do the washing machine by myself. The Yugoslav woman comes to iron on Monday. And I have company on Sunday. , so my dates are already packed. Thanks Tiha, great idea. Maybe next time." I asked him to call me whenever he needed me.After a bland, friendly chat, we said goodbye and hung up without agreeing on when we would meet again. I was so annoyed that I threw the couch cushions on the floor.The dog thought it was aimed at him, and slowly crawled over, begging my forgiveness, as if everything was his fault.I petted the dog gently, and persuaded the dog: "Hey, dog, for the first time in my life, I want something! No matter what the price, I will marry this man! But it is so difficult to do, I Don't know what to do." I howled and cried, and the dog came up to me and looked at me with infinite sadness.It's a truly amazing dog. Who will Witold's Sunday guest be, Bid? Sunday was very boring.I imagine Bid magically entertaining Witold with his nimble ways, cooking him a meal, and laughing.At last I understood how well the two fit together: art, literature, music - Bud knew a lot about it, and I knew nothing about it.The two of them had a great time all day... so what about the night?Did they then drink champagne and go to bed together?I was almost driven crazy by such thoughts, so I called Budd at night. Lacey answered the phone. "My mother isn't home," she said succinctly. Where did she go, I asked. "Vivian and Richard went to live in London for a few days yesterday, and she didn't cook today, as if I don't count," the naive Lenore complained. "By the way, I don't know where she is going." Yes, perhaps to a concert." I hung up the phone.This kind of thing is painful, but it is clear: Bid is sleeping with Witold in the same bed at this moment, and tomorrow she will have Jurgen with her.Why do other women get everything and I get nothing?Should I question her? At eleven o'clock at night, the phone rang.Bid said, "Lacy said you called. I told her where I was going, you stupid pig. As usual, she didn't listen." "Well, where have you been?" "In Frankfurt, I saw a great exhibition of Kandinsky paintings, and then had a Turkish meal with friends. It was really beautiful." Was she lying so skillfully?But why did she lie again?She has no reason to hide her relationship with Witold from me at all, and she doesn't know that Witold belongs to me.Perhaps she felt guilty for deceiving her own Jurgen; but she did not have to be faithful to a married lover.So I went to bed full of doubts. Then, one night, I sneaked into Witold's yard quietly again in the dark.It was already dark at nine o'clock at night, and I took precautions—wearing the black clothes that burglars usually wear, so as not to be seen by him. He was still sitting at the desk, writing something, just like the first time I saw him.How I adore him, this handsome, intelligent man, working so alone and absorbed in his work.After standing in the night-shrouded yard for at least an hour, I quietly walked out of the yard again.The fence was still loose as before, and Witold saw no need to repair it. It's like being addicted to drugs.Since then, I've driven to Rattenburg every day, even though it's certainly dangerous to do so, and the neighbors are all back from vacation.Witold was always alone.I really want to go to his house through the balcony door, or ring the bell from the front door of the building.But we agreed that he would call me. One night, I saw another car parked in front of his house.It was Bide's car.Oh, I see!I feel so disgusted. It was all my fault, I should have called him, visited him, written to him--without risking anything!Because I waited too long, and now Bid has taken my prey. I crawl into the yard.There was no one in the living room.I waited a long time.In the kitchen or in bed, that's the only question now.In the end, it was too cold for me, and I went home shivering and freezing, just as I did the day Witold's wife died. It took me days of depression before I made up my mind to never give up and to fight for it.I called Witold and asked him to come to my house.He said sorry that he couldn't come on the weekend.I made an appointment with him at another time, and he finally agreed to come on Thursday. I'm now desperate.I have four more days.I had to plan: I had to create a glamorous and cozy atmosphere for the evening, look extra youthful and beautiful, chat with grace and insight, and put together a delicious dinner that seemed effortless to prepare. Put it on the table.All this had to be done in such a way that it seemed that he was not specially prepared for him, but it was as if he was in heaven with me all the time.I went for a beauty treatment and bought myself a fuchsia velvet dress and a patterned crepe de chine blouse.I bought candles, champagne, a new tablecloth, perfume. But during the long working hours, I put a lot of energy into meals.I couldn't consult Bid; if I asked her, she would immediately give me the easiest idea out of the box.I decided to make a fried salmon fillet, which is pretty easy and I'm sure I can make it.Also make noodles, a buttery tarragon sauce and salad.I experimented with the sauce two days ago and it turned out pretty well.Omg I'm so excited. On Thursday, just before eight o'clock, I took one last look in the mirror.So delicate!我忽然想道。应该显得随意轻松些才是啊。他肯定会穿着套衫过来的，而我就像个打扮得非常妖艳的乡下女人一样站在那儿。我赶紧将衬衣和裙子脱下身，就这样穿着衬裙惊慌失措地站在穿衣镜前。换了璧德，她早就没事了，随便穿上什么衣服都行。我穿上裤子，再脱下，将衬衣、裙子等等一切随手扔到地上。不，现在可太晚了，五分钟后他就要来了。我从地毯上收拾起那些精致的衣服，忙碌地再次穿上。汗水从我搽过粉的脸上渗出，胭脂肯定会滴落到淡黄色的衣领上。我将那些不合适的衣服扔进衣橱里，关上橱门，奔到窗子边，看看他的车子有没有到。我还冲向厨房：一切准备就绪，只是在他到来之前，我是无法做好煎鱼了。 维托德按照学生上课迟到一刻钟的惯例准时到达，手里拿着一束毫无个性的丁香花，他完全可以在自己家的院子里种植出更正宗的丁香花来。 “我希望我来得不算太晚。您那迷人的朋友也来了吗？几朵丁香可以……”说着他有点死板地将五朵黄色丁香花递给我，手里握着一叠皱巴巴的文件。对他这束花，我照例应该说声“这根本没必要的呀”的话。我接过了他的花，说了声谢谢，并且不无恶意地说道，璧德有一个男朋友，可以占用她平时工作日期间的所有时间。维托德只是微微一笑：要么他知道有这么一回事，要么他无所谓，要么他觉得自己占据上风的地位。 我斟上雪利酒，奔到厨房，烧下面条的开水。我发现自己实际上穿着不是很考究。维托德穿得非常一般，没有系领带，但穿的是一件浅色的夏季西装上衣，下身配了条高级牛仔裤。我们俩显得有点拘束。 “那把武器扔进莱茵河了吗？”他突然问道。 不，没扔进河里，但我回答道：“是啊，那当然，几周以前就扔了！” 我这么说只是为了不让他对我产生反感而已，虽然我没忘记这把左轮手枪，但这事我一直没做，天知道是因为什么。 饭菜我还真的做成功了。维托德过分礼貌地连连称赞，但吃得很少，喝得也不多。那回在吃乳酪和苹果酒时出现的令人陶醉的情绪并没有再次出现，一切都显得有点做作。 我想制造点魅力，有次在说话时故意碰了下他的手臂，我观察过其他女人也曾这么做过，但他非常局促不安。吃完饭，我们坐在那张先前就提到过的破沙发椅上，我本想开瓶香槟，可维托德说不用了。他说吃饭时已经喝过葡萄酒了，刚才又喝了雪利酒，毕竟他还得开车回家啊。另外，他说明天才星期五，对他来说那是最艰苦的一天。 “您别生气，我只是因为这个原因才不能久留。” “上次教堂落成纪念日年市聚会时我们大家互相以”你“字相称的，”我脱口而出，遗憾地带着受委屈的弦外之音。 “说得对！”维托德的快乐显得不老实，“真好，你倒想起来了！那好，我们再喝一杯！” 他从餐桌上拿来那瓶喝剩的白葡萄酒，将酒斟上，举起酒杯，说：“蒂哈！” 我以一副不怕死的姿态将脸凑上去。我感觉脸颊上被轻轻碰了一下。 维托德又继续闲聊了一刻钟，谈起了他的儿子和学校里的事；七点半，他走了，没有再一次夸奖“美味佳肴”，也没有约定新的见面日期，也没有给我与他进一步亲近的机会。根本没有任何诱惑的举动。