Carel Capek Cross Roads (pdf)

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mountain the echo flew, ever more distant, ever more soft, ever
68 C ROSS ROADS
more frightening. Once again silence set in, grimmer than
before; only now did Jev�aek realize that he was entirely alone,
aimless and insignificant here in the mountains, that he was
going back home, that solicitude would continue to stream
through a tiny fissure in his heart, and that imperceptibly,
distressingly, an immeasurable sorrow, too, would continue to
flow.
Pilbauer was trudging on through the underbrush; water was
running down his neck and into his boots; with guile and
hostility, he struggled, squeezed, and sidestepped along; then he
abandoned all consideration for himself and attacked the
underbrush like a ram.
At that moment a shot rang out. The report came from a
distance of several paces in front of him. Better watch out,
the detective muttered, and he had to lean into the mountain so
as not to fall down; consequently, his knees shook beneath him.
It could already be tomorrow, he suddenly thought, it could
very well have happened! Tomorrow s here! Tomorrow s here!
It could already be tomorrow! At long last!
Slav�k spotted a shadow walking jerkily, mechanically, like a
puppet. Only with difficulty did he realize that it was the
examiner, and he headed towards him. Listen, he said, I just
thought of something. About those initials. The whole thing s
clear. The victim was a foreigner.
It seemed to Slav�k that the examiner whispered something.
Yes, he continued, unquestionably a foreigner. A man
no one s going to ask about. Otherwise it makes no sense. His
identity will never be known, he will never be reported as
missing. And if the murderer escapes, there s nothing to give
him away. He isn t mad. He knew very well what he was
doing. He murdered a man s life, form, and name; perhaps
what matters more than anything is that he killed a name; oh,
perhaps the most appalling loss of all was just that, the name.
THE MOUNTAIN 69
A name that would have revealed the murderer. And even if I
am never to know that name, now, now, at last, it s all clear to
me.
Yes, yes, the examiner managed to say weakly, yes.
Hold your distance, there Keep that line! March!
Jev�aek was back home, the lamp was buzzing softly and
warmly over his unfinished quartet, where the final note,
extremely high, fluttering like a skylark, called for closure.
Hesitantly, apprehensively, Jev�aek buried himself in his work.
It was all there, just the way it had been: the bright joy of the
movement, the slow, melodious cantilena. Nothing had
changed. Nothing changes beauty, nothing can touch it, nothing
was discordant, nothing was gloomy, nothing had darkened in
the magical, gliding fabric of notes; nothing, nothing had been
done to it at all. Even the old doubts remained: here and there
you could hear apprehension, a clumsy, quivering anguish, the
exertion of a whirling dancer concealed behind a fixed smile &
Jev�aek recalled the motif of the higher voice that had come to
him on the mountain: the thundering cadence of a voice forever
giving commands. Jev�aek buried his head in his arms: That s
not it. Higher voices don t give orders. Higher voices invoke
your pain.
More sorrowful than night is the break of day. Darkness
distances itself; little by little, as if in anticipation of a crisis, the
air begins to shudder; the contours of things become more
refined, colder and more stark. The whiteness of walls gives off
a dead luminosity, matter turns pale, and each thing can begin
to be seen, vague yet fixed in place; you see more and
everything looks so much more unreal. Dawn is breaking, the
world is waking to the distant, unfamiliar dawn; you see
everything with an odd clarity, and yet it isn t the light.
People awaken in the stale warmth of their beds, looking
toward a day that is worse, more brutal, than the day before.
70 C ROSS ROADS
Just as it was beginning to grow light, someone knocked on
Jev�aek s door. Wrenched from drowsiness, the small violinist
gave a start and ran to open the door. On the porch stood
Slav�k, the examiner, and Pilbauer.
Where did you go last night? Slav�k exclaimed. We were
so worried about you!
Did he escape? Jev�aek whispered.
He escaped, Slav�k said noncommitally. He fell off a
cliff and
Is he dead? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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