Ivan Klíma - Judge On Trial

That was why she had once been so taken by the idea of living on a kibbutz, believing she would find that kind of love and fellowship there. She abhorred the sort of life in which people were made to act like strangers; in which fear and denunciation ruled, people shunned each other, were frightened to talk to each other, exchange letters, confide in each other; in which people could be accused of having uttered some heretical thought years before; in which people were required to speak a strange official jargon that almost prevented communication.

Human life had to be superior to the life of the ants, and human speech something higher than the grunting of pigs. She believed that this was attainable in the home, if nowhere else, but Adam had no such aspirations. He had no desire to open up, just as he didn’t hanker after the fellowship or friendship of other people; it would only waste time better used for something more important to him, such as his work or his studies or his endless, absurd striving for success and recognition. He didn’t care whether people liked him or not, and even less whether people around him liked each other, or whether they suffered, or whether his insularity didn’t cause them suffering. His life lacked any order. Yes, that was his greatest deficiency. It had to be immediately apparent to anyone looking at him, from his appearance — his unkempt hair, his badly buttoned clothes — to his disordered and hasty utterances. Order was lacking in his everyday dealings. He was always starting things and not completing them. She remembered times he would be transcribing or translating several things at once. Now his work was no longer sought after, at least he had started reading a lot, though a month later, of course, he would be incapable of saying what the books had been about. And he had been building a fence at the cottage for the past two years already while in the meantime the roof was collapsing and the window-frames rotting. He never managed to do anything properly, he was never ready to devote himself one hundred per cent to one particular thing, or to commit himself to somebody, and he had the least time of all for her and the children — he devoted almost nothing of himself to them. And all the while he harboured the notion that everything he did simply anticipated some momentous future achievement which would justify the mayhem he caused all around him, and justify as well his arrogant conviction that he was better or anyway more important than the majority of people. As if activity was of some value for its own sake.

Maybe his hectic behaviour was a substitute for order and higher purpose in his life. With some people, drudgery was a sign that their lives lacked calm and harmony: they slogged away in order to drown out the emptiness within them. And at that moment it occurred to her that she too had offended against order — she had been unfaithful, something she had never bargained for, something she condemned and considered incompatible with a well-ordered life. She put her hand in her pocket and touched the envelope. And the very first thing she had rushed to do was to put her love down on paper, though she herself considered it untenable. She started to crumple the letter in her pocket; when she had crumpled it into a small ball and made it impossible to send, she felt a sense of relief, as if she had crumpled up those few days in Bratislava, her indiscretion, her lapse.

When she went to bed that evening she thought no more about the events of the previous week, as if she had completely distanced herself from those few days. She didn’t regret them; it was fine they had happened; she had long wished for something of the sort and Adam would be unlikely to hold it against her particularly; after all, he too had loved other women before he met her and would understand her desire to get to know someone else. She loved him for it, for that capacity to understand, that’s why I love him, I love him because he’s mine.

She was awakened by the sound of someone banging on the cottage door. Before she had a chance to get up, apparently it was opened and she heard the sound of muffled voices. ‘Ali!’ her sister-in-law called from outside her room. ‘You’ve got a visitor.’

‘A visitor?’

‘Some young fellow. Will you come and see him?’

‘Yes, I’m on my way.’ She dressed hurriedly. It was nearly midnight. She had no doubt who it was waiting for her and it seemed so unreal that her head swam.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I had to see you. I took three days’ leave and hitch-hiked here.’

‘This is silly of you. You can’t stay here, for heaven’s sake!’

‘I’ve brought a tent with me.’

‘You’re crazy!’

‘I’ve already put it up, over there across the stream, at the bottom of the cliff.’

‘But I’m here with the children!’

‘I’ll just watch you across the water.’

‘Adam’s coming in a couple of days!’

‘But meanwhile I’ll be able to see you. I’m so happy to see you. I love you, Alena!’

‘Honza, my love, you’re crazy. What if someone heard us? My sister-in-law is here with me too. And the children might wake up.’

‘I’m off. I’m so happy… Can I? It’s just I want to make sure it’s really you.’

‘Oh, Honza! Please… It isn’t on, really!’

‘I’m off then. Sister of my dreams.’

‘What did you say?’

‘Sister of my dreams. My honey pot. I’m going.’

‘Hold it. You can’t just go like that. Aren’t you hungry?’

‘No. I’m just so happy to be able to see you.’

‘I’ll walk with you a little way. Just as far as the bridge.’

‘You see I just couldn’t stand it any more. I borrowed a tent and came.’

‘Where have you got the tent?’

‘Over there. Just the other side of the water. I’ll show you if you like.’

‘But I can’t just go off and leave the children on their own.’

‘But they’re sleeping. And anyway you said you’ve got your sister-in-law here.’

‘Exactly. What would she think if I went off with you?’

‘We’d come straight back. Alena, I love you for coming with me. For the three whole days since I last saw you I’ve thought about you all the time and even thought up names for you: My amber. My homespun — I want to roll myself in you! My honeysuckle — I wish you’d twine around me!’

‘Hush! What was that?’

‘I didn’t hear anything.’

‘Someone called. Stand still and listen.’

‘I can’t hear anything.’

‘Maybe it was some bird or other, or the frogs. Haven’t we got to your tent yet, for goodness sake?’

‘Just a little way now. Alena, I’m so happy you’re going there with me. My golden-eyed beauty. I’ve never loved anyone like you. I love you so much, Alena.’

‘Those frogs are going to make a row all the time. You won’t get a wink of sleep.’

‘I don’t care, so long as I know you’re near.’

‘And won’t you be afraid, all alone here at night?’

‘No. I often used to go away alone like this. I always used to run away on my own so that Dad would worry about me. But he didn’t care, anyway.’

‘And won’t you be miserable here?’

‘No, not any more. Not now that you’ve come here with me. Will you have a look inside?’

‘It’s awfully dark here.’

‘Wait a sec, I’ll switch on the torch. Won’t you sit down for a moment?’

‘No, I really must go now. The children might wake up.’

‘They won’t. I never used to wake up when I was small.’

‘And it’s cold here. Aren’t you cold?’

‘I’m not, but if you are, I’ll light the cooker and some candles. I brought three candles with me.’

‘Now it smells all Christmassy here.’