生命不能承受之轻-第7部分

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It　was　not　vanity　that　drew　her　to　the　mirror；　it　was　amazement　at　seeing　her　own　I。　She　forgot　she　was　looking　at　the　instrument　panel　of　her　body　mechanisms；　she　thought　she　saw　her　soul　shining　through　the　features　of　her　face。　She　forgot　that　the　nose　was　merely　the　nozzle　of　a　hose　that　took　oxygen　to　the　lungs；　she　saw　it　as　the　true　expression　of　her　nature。
Staring　at　herself　for　long　stretches　of　time；　she　was　occasionally　upset　at　the　sight　of　her　mother's　features　in　her　face。　She　would　stare　all　the　more　doggedly　at　her　image　in　an　attempt　to　wish　them　away　and　keep　only　what　was　hers　alone。　Each　time　she　succeeded　was　a　time　of　intoxication：　her　soul　would　rise　to　the　surface　of　her　body　like　a　crew　charging　up　from　the　bowels　of　a　ship；　spreading　out　over　the　deck；　waving　at　the　sky　and　singing　in　jubilation。
4
She　took　after　her　mother；　and　not　only　physically。　I　sometimes　have　the　feeling　that　her　entire　life　was　merely　a　continuation　of　her　mother's；　much　as　the　course　of　a　ball　on　the　billiard　table　is　merely　the　continuation　of　the　player's　arm　movement。
Indeed；　was　she　not　the　principal　culprit　determining　her　mother's　fate？　She；　the　absurd　encounter　of　the　sperm　of　the　most　manly　of　men　and　the　egg　of　the　most　beautiful　of　women？　Yes；　it　was　in　that　fateful　second；　which　was　named　Tereza；　that　the　botched　long…distance　race；　her　mother's　life；　had　begun。
Tereza's　mother　never　stopped　reminding　her　that　being　a　mother　meant　sacrificing　everything。　Her　words　had　the　ring　of　truth；　backed　as　they　were　by　the　experience　of　a　woman　who　had　lost　everything　because　of　her　child。　Tereza　would　listen　and　believe　that　being　a　mother　was　the　highest　value　in　life　and　that　being　a　mother　was　a　great　sacrifice。　If　a　mother　was　Sacrifice　personified；　then　a　daughter　was　Guilt；　with　no　possibility　of　redress。
6
Of　course；　Tereza　did　not　know　the　story　of　the　night　when　her　mother　whispered　Be　careful　into　the　ear　of　her　father。　Her　guilty　conscience　was　as　vague　as　original　sin。　But　she　did　what　she　could　to　rid　herself　of　it。　Her　mother　took　her　out　of　school　at　the　age　of　fifteen；　and　Tereza　went　to　work　as　a　waitress；　handing　over　all　her　earnings。　She　was　willing　to　do　anything　to　gain　her　mother's　love。　She　ran　the　household；　took　care　of　her　siblings；　and　spent　all　day　Sunday　cleaning　house　and　doing　the　family　wash。　It　was　a　pity；　because　she　was　the　brightest　in　her　class。　She　yearned　for　something　higher；　but　in　the　small　town　there　was　nothing　higher　for　her。　Whenever　she　did　the　clothes；　she　kept　a　book　next　to　the　tub。　As　she　turned　the　pages；　the　wash　water　dripped　all　over　them。
At　home；　there　was　no　such　thing　as　shame。　Her　mother　marched　about　the　flat　in　her　underwear；　sometimes　braless　and　sometimes；　on　summer　days；　stark　naked。　Her　stepfather　did　not　walk　about　naked；　but　he　did　go　into　the　bathroom　every　time　Tereza　was　in　the　bath。　Once　she　locked　herself　in　and　her　mother　was　furious。　Who　do　you　think　you　are；　anyway？　Do　you　think　he's　going　to　bite　off　a　piece　of　your　beauty？　
（This　confrontation　shows　clearly　that　hatred　for　her　daughter　outweighed　suspicion　of　her　husband。　Her　daughter's　guilt　was　infinite　and　included　the　husband's　infidelities。　Tereza's　desire　to　be　emancipated　and　insist　on　her　rights—like　the　right　to　lock　herself　in　the　bathroom—was　more　objectionable　to　Tereza's　mother　than　the　possibility　of　her　husband's　taking　a　prurient　interest　in　Tereza。）
Once　her　mother　decided　to　go　naked　in　the　winter　when　the　lights　were　on。　Tereza　quickly　ran　to　pull　the　curtains　so　that　no　one　could　see　her　from　across　the　street。　She　heard　her　mother's　laughter　behind　her。　The　following　day　her　mother　had　some　friends　over：　a　neighbor；　a　woman　she　worked　with；　a　local　schoolmistress；　and　two　or　three　other　women　in　the　habit　of　getting　together　regularly。　Tereza　and　the　sixteen…year…old　son　of　one　of　them　came　in　at　one　point　to　say　hello；　and　her　mother　immediately　took　advantage　of　their　presence　to　tell　how　Tereza　had　tried　to　protect　her　mother's　modesty。　She　laughed；　and　all　the　women　laughed　with　her。　Tereza　can't　reconcile　herself　to　the　idea　that　the　human　body　pisses　and　farts；　she　said。　Tereza　turned　bright　red；　but　her　mother　would　not　stop。　What's　so　terrible　about　that？　and　in　answer　to　her　own　question　she　broke　wind　loudly。　All　the　women　laughed　again。

7
Tereza's　mother　blew　her　nose　noisily；　talked　to　people　in　public　about　her　sex　life；　and　enjoyed　demonstrating　her　false　teeth。　She　was　remarkably　skillful　at　loosening　them　with　her　tongue；　and　in　the　midst　of　a　broad　smile　would　cause　the　uppers　to　drop　down　over　the　lowers　in　such　a　way　as　to　give　her　face　a　sinister　expression。
Her　behavior　was　but　a　single　grand　gesture；　a　casting　off　of　youth　and　beauty。　In　the　days　when　she　had　had　nine　suitors　kneeling　round　her　in　a　circle；　she　guarded　her　nakedness　apprehensively；　as　though　trying　to　express　the　value　of　her　body　in　terms　of　the　modesty　she　accorded　it。　Now　she　had　not　only　lost　that　modesty；　she　had　radically　broken　with　it；　ceremoniously　using　her　new　immodesty　to　draw　a　dividing　line　through　her　life　and　proclaim　that　youth　and　beauty　were　overrated　and　worthless。
Tereza　appears　to　me　a　continuation　of　the　gesture　by　which　her　mother　cast　off　her　life　as　a　young　beauty；　cast　it　far　behind　her。
（And　if　Tereza　has　a　nervous　way　of　moving；　if　her　gestures　lack　a　certain　easy　grace；　we　must　not　be　surprised：　her　mother's　grand；　wild；　and　self…destructive　gesture　has　left　an　indelible　imprint　on　her。）

8
Tereza's　mother　demanded　justice。　She　wanted　to　see　the　culprit　penalized。　That　is　why　she　insisted　her　daughter　remain　with　her　in　the　world　of　immodesty；　where　youth　and　beauty　mean　nothing；　where　the　world　is　nothing　but　a　vast　concentration　camp　of　bodies；　one　like　the　next；　with　souls　invisible。
Now　we　can　better　understand　the　meaning　of　Tereza's　secret　vice；　her　long　looks　and　frequent　glances　in　the　mirror。　It　was　a　battle　with　her　mother。　It　was　a　longing　to　be　a　body　unlike　other　bodies；　to　find　that　the　surface　of　her　face　reflected　the　crew　of　the　soul　charging　up　from　below。　It　was　not　an　easy　task：　her　soul—her　sad；　timid；　self…effacing　soul—lay　concealed　in　the　depths　of　her　bowels　and　was　ashamed　to　show　itself。
So　it　was　the　day　she　first　met　Tomas。　Weaving　its　way　through　the　drunks　in　the　hotel　restaurant；　her　body　sagged　under　the　weight　of　the　beers　on　the　tray；　and　her　soul　lay　somewhere　at　the　level　of　the　stomach　or　pancreas。　Then　Tomas　called　to　her。　That　call　meant　a　great　deal；　because　it　came　from　someone　who　knew　neither　her　mother　nor　the　drunks　with　their　daily　stereotypically　scabrous　remarks。　His　outsider　status　raised　him　above　the　rest。
Something　else　raised　him　above　the　others　as　well：　he　had　an　open　book　on　his　table。　No　one　had　ever　opened　a　book　in　that　restaurant　before。　In　Tereza's　eyes；　books　were　the　emblems　of　a　secret　brotherhood。　For　she　had　but　a　single　weapon　against　the　world　of　crudity　surrounding　her：　the　books　she　took　out　of　the　municipal　library；　and　above　all；　the　novels。　She　had　read　any　number　of　them；　from　Fielding　to　Thomas　Mann。　They　not　only　offered　the　possibility　of　an　imaginary　escape　from　a　life　she　found　unsatisfying；　they　also　had　a　meaning　for　her　as　physical　objects：　she　loved　to　walk　down　the　street　with　a　book　under　her　arm。　It　had　the　same　significance　for　her　as　an　elegant　cane　for　the　dandy　a　century　ago。　It　differentiated　her　from　others。
（Comparing　the　book　to　the　elegant　cane　of　the　dandy　is　not　absolutely　precise。　A　dandy's　cane　did　more　than　make　him　different；　it　made　him　modern　and　up　to　date。　The　book　made　Tereza　different；　but　old…fashioned。　Of　course；　she　was　too　young　to　see　how　old…fashioned　she　looked　to　others。　The　young　men　walking　by　with　transistor　radios　pressed　to　their　ears　seemed　silly　to　her。　It　never　occurred　to　her　that　they　were　modern。）
And　so　the　man　who　called　to　her　was　simultaneously　a　stranger　and　a　member　of　the　secret　brotherhood。　He　called　to　her　in　a　kind　voice；　and　Tereza　felt　her　soul　rushing　up　to　the　surface　through　her　blood　vessels　and　pores　to　show　itself　to　him。
9
After　Tomas　had　returned　to　Prague　from　Zurich；　he　began　to　feel　uneasy　at　the　thought　that　his　acquaintance　with　Tereza　was　the　result　of　six　improbable　fortuities。
But　is　not　an　event　in　fact　more　significant　and　noteworthy　the　greater　the　number　of　fortuities　necessary　to　bring　it　about？
Chance　and　chance　alone　has　a　message　for　us。　Everything　that　occurs　out　of　necessity；　everything　expected；　repeated　day　in　and　day　out；　is　mute。　Only　chance　can　speak　to　us。　We　read　its　message　much　as　gypsies　read　the　images　made　by　coffee　grounds　at　the　bottom　of　a　cup。
Tomas　appeared　to　Tereza　in　the　hotel　restaurant　as　chance　in　the　absolute。　There　he　sat；　poring　over　an　open　book；　when　suddenly　he　raised　his　eyes　to　her；　smiled；　and　said；　A　cognac；　please。　
At　that　moment；　the　radio　happened　to　be　playing　music。　On　her　way　behind　the　counter　to　pour　the　cognac；　Tereza　turned　the　volume　up。　She　recognized　Beethoven。　She　had　known　his　music　from　the　time　a　string　quartet　from　Prague　had　visited　their　town。　Tereza　（who；　as　we　know；　yearned　for　something　higher　）　went　to　the　concert。