生命不能承受之轻-第14部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

as　taking　the　bowler　hat　as　her　sole　inheritance。
Third；　it　was　a　prop　for　her　love　games　with　Tomas。
Fourth；　it　was　a　sign　of　her　originality；　which　she　consciously　cultivated。　She　could　not　take　much　with　her　when　she　emigrated；　and　taking　this　bulky；　impractical　thing　meant　giving　UP　other；　more　practical　ones。
Fifth；　now　that　she　was　abroad；　the　hat　was　a　sentimental　object。　When　she　went　to　visit　Tomas　in　Zurich；　she　took　it　along　and　had　it　on　her　head　when　he　opened　the　hotel…room　door。　But　then　something　she　had　not　reckoned　with　happened：　the　hat；　no　longer　jaunty　or　sexy；　turned　into　a　monument　to　time　past。　They　were　both　touched。　They　made　love　as　they　never　had　before。　This　was　no　occasion　for　obscene　games。　For　this　meeting　was　not　a　continuation　of　their　erotic　rendezvous；　each　of　which　had　been　an　opportunity　to　think　up　some　new　little　vice；　it　was　a　recapitulation　of　time；　a　hymn　to　their　common　past；　a　sentimental　summary　of　an　unsentimental　story　that　was　disappearing　in　the　distance。
The　bowler　hat　was　a　motif　in　the　musical　composition　that　was　Sabina's　life。　It　returned　again　and　again；　each　time　with　a　different　meaning；　and　all　the　meanings　flowed　through　the　bowler　hat　like　water　through　a　riverbed。　I　might　call　it　Heraclitus'　（　You　can't　step　twice　into　the　same　river　）　riverbed：　the　bowler　hat　was　a　bed　through　which　each　time　Sabina　saw　another　river　flow；　another　semantic　river：　each　time　the　same　object　would　give　rise　to　a　new　meaning；　though　all　former　meanings　would　resonate　（like　an　echo；　like　a　parade　of　echoes）　together　with　the　new　one。　Each　new　experience　would　resound；　each　time　enriching　the　harmony。　The　reason　why　Tomas　and　Sabina　were　touched　by　the　sight　of　the　bowler　hat　in　a　Zurich　hotel　and　made　love　almost　in　tears　was　that　its　black　presence　was　not　merely　a　reminder　of　their　love　games　but　also　a　memento　of　Sabina's　father　and　of　her　grandfather；　who　lived　in　a　century　without　airplanes　and　cars。
Now；　perhaps；　we　are　in　a　better　position　to　understand　the　abyss　separating　Sabina　and　Franz：　he　listened　eagerly　to　the　story　of　her　life　and　she　was　equally　eager　to　hear　the　story　of　his；　but　although　they　had　a　clear　understanding　of　the　logical　meaning　of　the　words　they　exchanged；　they　failed　to　hear　the　semantic　susurrus　of　the　river　flowing　through　them。
And　so　when　she　put　on　the　bowler　hat　in　his　presence；　Franz　felt　uncomfortable；　as　if　someone　had　spoken　to　him　in　a　language　he　did　not　know。　It　was　neither　obscene　nor　sentimental；　merely　an　incomprehensible　gesture。　What　made　him　feel　uncomfortable　was　its　very　lack　of　meaning。
While　people　are　fairly　young　and　the　musical　composition　of　their　lives　is　still　in　its　opening　bars；　they　can　go　about　writing　it　together　and　exchange　motifs　（the　way　Tomas　and　Sabina　exchanged　the　motif　of　the　bowler　hat）；　but　if　they　meet　when　they　are　older；　like　Franz　and　Sabina；　their　musical　compositions　are　more　or　less　complete；　and　every　motif；　every　object；　every　word　means　something　different　to　each　of　them。
If　I　were　to　make　a　record　of　all　Sabina　and　Franz's　conversations；　I　could　compile　a　long　lexicon　of　their　misunderstandings。　Let　us　be　content；　instead；　with　a　short　dictionary。
3
A　Short　Dictionary　of　Misunderstood　Words
WOMAN
Being　a　woman　is　a　fate　Sabina　did　not　choose。　What　we　have　not　chosen　we　cannot　consider　either　our　merit　or　our　failure。　Sabina　believed　that　she　had　to　assume　the　correct　attitude　to　her　unchosen　fate。　To　rebel　against　being　born　a　woman　seemed　as　foolish　to　her　as　to　take　pride　in　it。
During　one　of　their　first　times　together；　Franz　announced　to　her；　in　an　oddly　emphatic　way；　Sabina；　you　are　a　woman。　She　could　not　understand　why　he　accentuated　the　obvious　with　the　solemnity　of　a　Columbus　who　has　just　sighted　land。　Not　until　later　did　she　understand　that　the　word　woman；　on　which　he　had　placed　such　uncommon　emphasis；　did　not；　in　his　eyes；　signify　one　of　the　two　human　sexes；　it　represented　a　value。　Not　every　woman　was　worthy　of　being　called　a　woman。
But　if　Sabina　was；　in　Franz's　eyes；　a　woman；　then　what　was　his　wife；　Marie…Claude？　More　than　twenty　years　earlier；　several　months　after　Franz　met　Marie…Claude；　she　had　threatened　to　take　her　life　if　he　abandoned　her。　Franz　was　bewitched　by　the　threat。　He　was　not　particularly　fond　of　Marie…Claude；　but　he　was　very　much　taken　with　her　love。　He　felt　himself　unworthy　of　so　great　a　love；　and　felt　he　owed　her　a　low　bow。
He　bowed　so　low　that　he　married　her。　And　even　though　Marie…Claude　never　recaptured　the　emotional　intensity　that　accompanied　her　suicide　threat；　in　his　heart　he　kept　its　memory　alive　with　the　thought　that　he　must　never　hurt　her　and　always　respect　the　woman　in　her。
It　is　an　interesting　formulation。　Not　respect　Marie…Claude；　but　respect　the　woman　in　Marie…Claude。　
But　if　Marie…Claude　is　herself　a　woman；　then　who　is　that　other　woman　hiding　in　her；　the　one　he　must　always　respect？　The　Platonic　ideal　of　a　woman；　perhaps？
No。　His　mother。　It　never　would　have　occurred　to　him　to　say　he　respected　the　woman　in　his　mother。　He　worshipped　his　mother　and　not　some　woman　inside　her。　His　mother　and　the　Platonic　ideal　of　womanhood　were　one　and　the　same。
When　he　was　twelve；　she　suddenly　found　herself　alone；　abandoned　by　Franz's　father。　The　boy　suspected　something　serious　had　happened；　but　his　mother　muted　the　drama　with　mild；　insipid　words　so　as　not　to　upset　him。　The　day　his　father　left；　Franz　and　his　mother　went　into　town　together；　and　as　they　left　home　Franz　noticed　that　her　shoes　did　not　match。　He　was　in　a　quandary：　he　wanted　to　point　out　her　mistake；　but　was　afraid　he　would　hurt　her。　So　during　the　two　hours　they　spent　walking　through　the　city　together　he　kept　his　eyes　fixed　on　her　feet。　It　was　then　he　had　his　first　inkling　of　what　it　means　to　suffer。
FIDELITY　AND　BETRAYAL
He　loved　her　from　the　time　he　was　a　child　until　the　time　he　accompanied　her　to　the　cemetery；　he　loved　her　in　his　memories　as　well。　That　is　what　made　him　feel　that　fidelity　deserved　pride　of　place　among　the　virtues：　fidelity　gave　a　unity　to　lives　that　would　otherwise　splinter　into　thousands　of　split…second　impressions。
Franz　often　spoke　about　his　mother　to　Sabina；　perhaps　even　with　a　certain　unconscious　ulterior　motive：　he　assumed　that　Sabina　would　be　charmed　by　his　ability　to　be　faithful；　that　it　would　win　her　over。
What　he　did　not　know　was　that　Sabina　was　charmed　more　by　betrayal　than　by　fidelity。　The　word　fidelity　reminded　her　of　her　father；　a　small…town　puritan；　who　spent　his　Sundays　painting　away　at　canvases　of　woodland　sunsets　and　roses　in　vases。　Thanks　to　him；　she　started　drawing　as　a　child。　When　she　was　fourteen；　she　fell　in　love　with　a　boy　her　age。　Her　father　was　so　frightened　that　he　would　not　let　her　out　of　the　house　by　herself　for　a　year。　One　day；　he　showed　her　some　Picasso　reproductions　and　made　fun　of　them。　If　she　couldn't　love　her　fourteen…year…old　schoolboy；　she　could　at　least　love　cubism。　After　completing　school；　she　went　off　to　Prague　with　the　euphoric　feeling　that　now　at　last　she　could　betray　her　home。
Betrayal。　From　tender　youth　we　are　told　by　father　and　teacher　that　betrayal　is　the　most　heinous　offense　imaginable。　But　what　is　betrayal？　Betrayal　means　breaking　ranks。　Betrayal　means　breaking　ranks　and　going　off　into　the　unknown。　Sabina　knew　of　nothing　more　magnificent　than　going　off　into　the　unknown。
Though　a　student　at　the　Academy　of　Fine　Arts；　she　was　not　allowed　to　paint　like　Picasso。　It　was　the　period　when　so…called　socialist　realism　was　prescribed　and　the　school　manufactured　Portraits　of　Communist　statesmen。　Her　longing　to　betray　her　rather　remained　unsatisfied：　Communism　was　merely　another　rather；　a　father　equally　strict　and　limited；　a　father　who　forbade　her　love　（the　times　were　puritanical）　and　Picasso；　too。　And　if　she　married　a　second…rate　actor；　it　was　only　because　he　had　a　reputation　for　being　eccentric　and　was　unacceptable　to　both　fathers。
Then　her　mother　died。　The　day　following　her　return　to　Prague　from　the　funeral；　she　received　a　telegram　saying　that　her　father　had　taken　his　life　out　of　grief。
Suddenly　she　felt　pangs　of　conscience：　Was　it　really　so　terrible　that　her　father　had　painted　vases　filled　with　roses　and　hated　Picasso？　Was　it　really　so　reprehensible　that　he　was　afraid　of　his　fourteen…year…old　daughter's　coming　home　pregnant？　Was　it　really　so　laughable　that　he　could　not　go　on　living　without　his　wife？
And　again　she　felt　a　longing　to　betray：　betray　her　own　betrayal。　She　announced　to　her　husband　（whom　she　now　considered　a　difficult　drunk　rather　than　an　eccentric）　that　she　was　leaving　him。
But　if　we　betray　B。；　for　whom　we　betrayed　A。；　it　does　not　necessarily　follow　that　we　have　placated　A。　The　life　of　a　divorcee…painter　did　not　in　the　least　resemble　the　life　of　the　parents　she　had　betrayed。　The　first　betrayal　is　irreparable。　It　calls　forth　a　chain　reaction　of　further　betrayals；　each　of　which　takes　us　farther　and　farther　away　from　the　point　of　our　original　betrayal。
MUSIC
For　Franz　music　was　the　art　that　comes　closest　to　Dionysian　beauty　in　the　sense　of　intoxication。　No　one　can　get　really　drunk　on　a　novel　or　a　painting；　but　who　can　help　getting　drunk　on　Beethoven's　Ninth；　Bartok's　Sonata　for　Two　Pianos　and　Percussion；　or　the　Beatles'　White　Album？　Fran