Bacacay Read Free

Life, health? And so I swear that with the same sudden composed smile I would give up both life and
health if only she would ... if only she would comply. Or perhaps this woman had ethical scruples? What are foolish ethics in the face of Lawyer Kraykowski? Just in case, I resolved to reassure her in this respect too!
    Madam, you must! The doctor is a zero, a nobody.
    But with her it wasn’t ethics, it was simply pride, or even nonsensical female sulkiness, and a failure to grasp sacred elemental matters. I walked to and fro beneath her windows—what was going on in there behind those drawn curtains (for she usually rose late), in what phase did she find herself ? Women are too superficial! I tried magnetism—“You must, you must,” I repeated over and again, staring at her window. “Today, this evening, if your husband goes out.” Then suddenly, all at once, I remembered that the lawyer had wanted to beat me; that since he had not done so at that time, on the street—then perhaps it was for lack of time? And so I dropped everything and rushed to the courthouse, from which, I knew, he would emerge in a moment. And, in fact, a few minutes later he came out in the company of two gentlemen, and I went up to him and, in silence, offered him my back.
    The astonishment of the two gentlemen hovered over me, but I paid them no heed—the entire world meant nothing to me! I half-closed my eyes, clasped my arms, and waited trustfully—but no blow fell. In the end I murmured, stammering into the flagstones of the sidewalk:
    “Maybe now? Always, always, always ...”
    “It’s just some idiot,” his voice drifted over me. “How absentminded
of me! I quite forgot that I have a meeting! We’ll speak another time; goodbye, gentlemen. Here’s a few pennies, my man. Good afternoon!”
    And he hurriedly got into a cab. Oh, those cabs! One of the gentlemen reached into his pocket. I stopped him with a gesture.
    “I’m neither a beggar nor an idiot. I have my dignity; and I accept charity only from Lawyer Kraykowski.”
    I conceived a plan of hypnosis, a constant, unwavering pressure with the aid of a thousand little facts, mystical signs that, without penetrating the consciousness, would create a subconscious state of necessity. On the wall of the building in which she lived I drew in chalk an arrow and a large K. I won’t enumerate all my intrigues, some more adroit than others; she was enwrapped in a web of strange occurrences. A shop assistant in a fashion boutique referred seemingly by mistake to “her husband, the lawyer.” The concierge, encountered on the steps, said that Judge Krajewski had asked if the umbrella had been returned. Krajewski-Kraykowski, judge-lawyer: Caution was needed; dripping water wears away a boulder. It was unclear how on earth she could have returned from the city with the lawyer’s fragrance on her dress—his invigorating scent of violet soap and eau de cologne. Or for example such an incident: Late at night the telephone rings—she’s awoken from her sleep, she hurries to pick up and she hears a stranger’s voice saying peremptorily: “At once!”—and nothing more. Or a slip of paper stuck in her door with nothing on it but a line of poetry: “Hush, my child, and don’t you kray. ”
    But I was gradually losing hope. The lawyer had stopped visiting her; it seemed that all my efforts had come to nothing. I could
already foresee the moment of final capitulation, and I was afraid: I felt I would be unable to reconcile myself to this. The affront to the lawyer in this regard was something I could not bear, even if he himself were untroubled by it. For me it would be the ultimate outrage, an injury and a disgrace. Ultimate—yes, ultimate, that is the right word. Unable to believe it, I nevertheless trembled before the inevitable end that was approaching.
    And indeed ... but there is after all such a thing as mercy! And oh, how artful they were—and incidentally, I’m angry at the