Milan Kundera - Farewell Waltz

The two women emitted grunts of approval, and Dr. Skreta went on giving his moral lesson for the benefit of the two applicants. Klima's heart was pounding. He guessed that the doctor's words were not addressed to him but to the two judges, who with all the strength of their maternal bellies hated young women who refused to give birth, yet he feared that Ruzena might allow herself to be swayed by this speech. Had she not told him a few minutes earlier that she still didn't know what she was going to do?

"What are you living for?" Dr. Skreta resumed. "Life without children is like a tree without leaves. If I had the power I would prohibit abortion. Aren't you distressed by the thought that our population is going down each year? Here in this country where mothers

and children are better protected than anywhere else in the world! In this country where no one has to fear for his future?"

The two women once again emitted grunts of approval, and Dr. Skreta went on: "The comrade is married and afraid of assuming all the consequences of an irresponsible sexual relationship. But you should have thought of that before, comrade!"

Dr. Skreta paused, and then he addressed Klima once more: "You have no children. Are you really unable to get a divorce for the sake of this fetus's future?"

"It's impossible," said Klima.

"I know," said Dr. Skreta with a sigh. "I've received a psychiatric report saying that Mrs. Klima suffers from suicidal tendencies. The birth of this child would endanger her life and destroy her home, and Nurse Ruzena would be a single mother. What can we do?" he said with another sigh, and then pushed the form toward one and then the other of the two women, each one sighing too as she signed her name in the proper space.

"Be here Monday morning at eight o'clock for the operation," Dr. Skreta said to Ruzena, and he motioned that she could leave.

"But you stay here!" one of the heavy women said to Klima. Ruzena left and the woman went on: "Terminating a pregnancy is not as harmless an operation as you think. It involves much bleeding. By your irresponsibility you will make the comrade lose blood,

and it's only fair that you give your own." She pushed a form at Klima and told him: "Sign here."

Filled with confusion, Klima signed obediently.

"It's an application for membership in the Voluntary Association of Blood Donors. Go next door and the nurse will take your blood right away."

Ruzena walked through the waiting room with lowered eyes and didn't see Frantisek until he spoke to her in the corridor.

"Where have you just been?"

She was frightened by his furious expression and walked faster.

"I'm asking you where you've just been."

"It's none of your business."

"I know where you've just been."

"Then don't ask me."

They went down the stairs, Ruzena in a rush to escape Frantisek and the conversation.

"You've been to the Abortion Committee," Frantisek said.

Ruzena remained silent. They left the building.

"You've been to the Abortion Committee. I know it. And you want to have an abortion."

"I'll do what I want."

"You're not going to do what you want. It's my business too."

Ruzena was walking still faster, nearly running. Frantisek was running right behind her. When they arrived at the thermal building, she said: "I forbid you to follow me. I'm at work now. You don't have the right to disturb me at my work."

Frantisek was very excited: "I forbid you to give me orders!"

"You don't have the right!"

"You're the one who doesn't have the right!"

Ruzena swept into the building, with Frantisek behind her.

Jakub was glad that it was all finished and that there was only one more thing to do: say goodbye to Skreta. From the thermal building he slowly headed across the park to Karl Marx House.

Coming toward him from a distance on the broad park path were about twenty nursery-school kids and their teacher. She had in her hand the end of a long red string, which the children held on to as they followed her single file. They walked along slowly, and the

teacher pointed at the various trees and shrubs while giving their names. Jakub stopped to listen because he did not know much botany and always forgot that a maple was called a maple and a hornbeam a hornbeam.

The teacher pointed at a tree thick with yellowing leaves: "This is a linden."

Jakub looked at the children. They all wore little blue coats and red berets. You could take them for little brothers and sisters. He looked at their faces and found that they resembled one another not only because of their clothes but also because of their features. He counted seven among them with markedly big noses and wide mouths. They looked like Dr. Skreta.

He remembered the big-nosed toddler at the forest inn. Could the doctor's eugenic dream be more than just a fantasy? Could it really be that children were coming into the world in this country from the great begetter Skreta?

Jakub found this ridiculous. All these kids looked alike because all children in the world look alike.

And yet he couldn't help but think: What if Skreta really was carrying out his remarkable project? Why can't bizarre projects be carried out?

"And what's this one, children?"

"It's a birch!" answered a little Skreta; yes, he was the picture of Skreta; he not only had the big nose and wide mouth but also wore little eyeglasses and spoke with the nasal voice that made Dr. Skreta's speech so touchingly comical.

"Very good, Oldrich!" said the teacher.

Jakub thought: In ten or twenty years this country will have thousands of Skretas. And once more he had the strange feeling of having lived in his own country without knowing what was happening in it. He had lived, so to speak, at the center of the action. He had lived through all the current events. He had got involved in politics, and it had nearly cost him his life, and even when he was pushed out, politics remained his main concern. He always believed he was hearing the heartbeat of the country. But who knows what he was really hearing? Was it a heart? Or was it an old alarm clock? An old discarded alarm clock that gives the wrong time? Had all his political struggles been anything more than will-o'-the wisps distracting him from what really mattered?

The teacher led the children down the broad path, and Jakub still felt pervaded by the image of the beautiful woman. The recollection of her beauty incessantly brought a question back to mind: What if he had been living in a world entirely different from what he imagined? What if he had been seeing everything upside down? What if beauty meant more than truth, and what if it really had been an angel, the other day, who gave Bertlef a dahlia?

He heard the teacher's voice: "And what's this one?"

The little Skreta in eyeglasses answered: "It's a maple!"

Ruzena rushed up the stairs two at a time, trying not to look back. She slammed the door to her section and hurried to the changing room. She slipped her white nurse's smock over her bare body and gave a sigh of relief. The scene with Frantisek had disturbed her, but at the same time, oddly, it had calmed her. She felt that both Frantisek and Klima were now alien and distant.

She left the cubicle and went into the huge treatment room, where women rested after their baths in beds lined up against the walls.

The fortyish nurse was sitting at the small table near the door. "Well, did they authorize it?" she asked her coldly.

"Yes. Thanks for taking my place," said Ruzena, handing a new patient a key and a large white sheet.

As soon as the fortyish nurse left, the door opened and Frantisek's head appeared.

"It's not true that it's none of my business. It's both of our business. I've got something to say about it too!"