Mihail Sebastian - The Accident

He looked in detail at the surrounding houses. It was possible she was around here somewhere, for a visit or a romantic rendezvous, possibly behind the curtains in one of those windows where the lights were on, not wishing to come down right now because she had seen him waiting in the street.

One evening in Filipescu Park, on a little semicircular street that ran off Strada Sofia like a sort of interior courtyard, Paul had found the blue car across from a house whose rolling shutters were drawn, but through which strips of light fell. He had passed there by chance, coming from the Saint-Vincent sanatorium, where he had an ill friend, but Ann’s car stopped him in his tracks. For more than two hours he had remained still, leaning over the grille of the car. He had the impression that behind the house’s shutters shadows were moving. He seemed to hear footsteps, whispers, even laughter, which then faded away. It was as though every now and then, about every quarter of an hour, someone was coming to the window to see if he was still there, if he had left yet. After a long time, an absurd thought passed through his head: to ring the doorbell and ask for Ann.

The door opened after a long wait, and after he had rung several times: in the doorway was a greying man, with the entrance behind him, who asked him who he was looking for and obliged him to repeat Ann’s name twice, as though he hadn’t heard it clearly.

“No, sir, you’re mistaken. She doesn’t live here.” And he closed the door, leaving Paul on the stone step, confused, stuttering excuses that no one heard.

That evening he vowed that he would never see her again.

I have to forget you, Ann. I absolutely have to forget you .

IT WAS A SMALL, NARROW ROOM with a smoke-blackened ceiling and wooden benches, and a door that was constantly opening and shutting. Nervous figures would appear in the doorway, toss a hurried glance inside and disappear. If it hadn’t been for the magistrates and the court clerk in their black robes, Nora wouldn’t have believed that she was actually in a courtroom.

All kinds of people sat on the benches: anxious girls with tired eyes, and a mixture of bewilderment and indifference. There was the incessant sound of whispering, muffled hisses, shuffling paper. From time to time a bell sounded, rung out of habit and without conviction by the presiding judge. There was a moment’s silence, and then nothing more was heard but the voice of the lawyer who was speaking.

Nora found a seat at the back of the room, next to the window. Outside it was snowing softly. Senate Square looked white, like a postcard of winter.

Paul was right at the front, in the first row of benches, bent over what looked like a file. In order to see him, Nora had to stand up, and then she saw only his back, with his shoulders bent forward in the direction of the desk facing him. As long as he doesn’t turn his head , she thought, chilled by the thought that he might see her. She pressed against the window, hiding as well as she was able.

Paul got up from his seat. Nora had the impression that he had seen her and was coming towards her. She remained stock-still, like the pupil who feels that the teacher has seen her copying from his desk, and is waiting for the inevitable scandal to break.

No. She was losing her nerve foolishly, for no good reason. Paul hadn’t seen her and in any event was not looking her way. He had merely gone to the court clerk’s desk, picked up a file and now, with the file in his hand, was speaking.

Nora heard only parts of the sentence, of which she understood nothing. She repeated his words in her mind and was surprised that Paul could speak with such conviction. His voice from the previous evening was unrecognizable: this was a firm, certain voice, with maybe a certain deep-seated indifference, but not the sleepy, drawling indifference with which Nora was familiar.

“… The simple deposition of the reasons for appealing this case not only is insufficient, but is null and void… The court will be obliged to consider this appeal as lacking due cause… A single valid cause… indicated by Article 98 of the law governing circuit court judges… Implied and without having been specified by prior documentation… Procedurally speaking, this appeal does not exist… It is in direct contradiction of Article 69 of the civil code, section D, clause 2…”

Nora strained to listen. She would have liked to understand the question under discussion. Above all, she would have liked to be able to look Paul in the eyes while he was speaking. The things he was talking about appeared to enthrall him. Now and then he turned his head towards a lawyer on the opposing bench, who was interrupting him, and then Nora read in his uncaring eyes a sparkle of conviction, maybe even of combativeness.

She glanced at her watch: twenty past four. Yesterday at this time we hadn’t met yet . Everything that had happened since seemed remote and incomprehensible. That man speaking in an unfamiliar voice and whose appearance she couldn’t remember if she closed her eyes, that man was her “lover.” This was still a word that, even at her age, Nora was unable to contemplate without terror. Long ago, in her hometown in the provinces, “lover” was a word that was spoken in a whisper.

The presiding judge uttered a few words, which were inaudible at the back of the courtroom, and wrote something in the register. The court clerk called another case, while Paul bundled up his books and papers and, with an unhurried motion, slid them into his briefcase.

Nora was going to let him leave the courtroom, she was going to remain here a little longer to be sure of not running into him, and then she, too, was going to leave. A guy you slept with one night by chance and who, after that, you never saw again . The horrible thoughts, which appalled her, and which she nevertheless tried to think with out caring, went around in her head.

“Are you staying here?”

He was wearing a black-patterned red tie with a badly tied knot. It was first thing Nora noticed. Why doesn’t this man know how to tie his tie?

Paul took her arm and led her to the door. She followed him without looking at him. How nice it was there next to the window. How did he spot me? Why did he come in my direction? She was afraid of him; she would have liked to be alone, she would have liked with all her heart to be alone.

“… Honourable gentlemen, an incorrectly introduced motion cannot replace…” From the doorway, Nora heard a few words spoken by a man at the bar, who was waving a file, but the end of the sentence was lost, since in that moment they left the building through a narrow corridor that was more brightly lit than the courtroom.

“An incorrectly introduced motion… an incorrectly introduced motion,” she repeated mechanically, trying to prolong her thoughts in order to postpone the explanation that was approaching.

How long this man is able to remain silent , Nora thought on the street, walking beside Paul. Nothing on his blank face displayed the slightest curiosity or pleasure or worry. She had been afraid that her presence would anger him. Not even that so much, no, not so much. It’s as if I wasn’t here .

Dusk was falling, the snow had stopped, but it was very cold.

“You shouldn’t think I came to look for you.” All of a sudden she started to speak. “I pass by here in front of the courthouse every afternoon. I have a few hours of French in a private school in the neighbourhood. Maybe I didn’t tell you I’m a teacher. We haven’t had time — ”

She stopped in mid-sentence, surprised by her own words. She hadn’t had time to tell him the most basic things about herself — maybe, if her name hadn’t been engraved on the metal plate next to her apartment door, he wouldn’t have remembered that, either — but in a matter of hours she had become his lover. How stupid you are, Nora! She would have liked to fall silent, but now that she had begun to speak and had interrupted herself suddenly, without any reason, remaining silent felt more difficult than before.