She moved closer and suddenly threw her arms around his neck. He nimbly and swiftly anticipated her movement, dodged her lips and kissed her coldly on the cheek, embracing her with his uninjured arm, clumsily, with reserve, gently. He felt the girl stiffen and slowly move back, but only to the length of her arms, which were still resting on his shoulders. He knew what she was waiting for, but did not do it. He did not draw her towards him.

Essi let him go and turned towards the open, dirty little window.

‘Of course,’ she said suddenly. ‘You barely know me. I forgot that you barely know me.’

‘Essi,’ he said after a moment’s silence. ‘I—’

‘I barely know you either,’ she blurted, interrupting him. ‘What of it? I love you. I can’t help it. Not at all.’

‘Essi!’

‘Yes. I love you, Geralt. I don’t care what you think. I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you at that engagement party…’

She broke off, lowering her head.

She stood before him and Geralt regretted it was her and not the fish-eyed creature with a sword who had been hidden beneath the water. He had stood a chance against that creature. But against her he had none.

‘You aren’t saying anything,’ she said. ‘Nothing, not a word.’

I’m tired, he thought, and bloody weak. I need to sit down, I’m feeling dizzy, I’ve lost some blood and haven’t eaten anything… I have to sit down. Damned little attic, he thought, I hope it gets struck by lightning and burns down during the next storm. And there’s no bloody furniture, not even two stupid chairs and a table, which divides you, across which you can so easily and safely talk; you can even hold hands. But I have to sit down on the palliasse, have to ask her to sit down beside me. And the palliasse stuffed with bean stalks is dangerous, you can’t escape from it, take evasive action.

‘Sit beside me, Essi.’

She sat down. Reluctantly. Tactfully. Far away. Too close.

‘When I found out,’ she whispered, interrupting the long silence, ‘when I heard that Dandelion had dragged you onto the beach, bleeding, I ran out of the house like a mad thing, rushed blindly, paying no attention to anything. And then… Do you know what I thought? That it was magic, that you had cast a spell on me, that you had secretly, treacherously bewitched me, spellbound me, with your wolfish medallion, with the evil eye. That’s what I thought, but I didn’t stop, kept running, because I understood that I desire… I desire to fall under your spell. And the reality turned out to be more awful. You didn’t cast any spell on me, you didn’t use any charms. Why, Geralt? Why didn’t you bewitch me?’

He was silent.

‘If it had been magic,’ she said, ‘it would all be so simple and easy. I would have succumbed to your power and I’d be happy. But this… I must… I don’t know what’s happening to me…’