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Back The Woman on the Stairs Save as PDF
Chapters (83)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Bernhard Schlink
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. Part Two
  33. 1
  34. 2
  35. 3
  36. 4
  37. 5
  38. 6
  39. 7
  40. 8
  41. 9
  42. 10
  43. 11
  44. 12
  45. 13
  46. 14
  47. 15
  48. 16
  49. 17
  50. 18
  51. 19
  52. 20
  53. 21
  54. 22
  55. 23
  56. 24
  57. 25
  58. Part Three
  59. 1
  60. 2
  61. 3
  62. 4
  63. 5
  64. 6
  65. 7
  66. 8
  67. 9
  68. 10
  69. 11
  70. 12
  71. 13
  72. 14
  73. 15
  74. 16
  75. 17
  76. 18
  77. 19
  78. 20
  79. 21
  80. 22
  81. Author’s Note
  82. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  83. What’s next onyour reading list?

I do not rue my age. I don’t envy the young for the lives they have ahead of them; I do not want mine before me again. But I do envy them their short past. When we’re young, we can survey our past. We can give it meaning, even if that meaning constantly changes. Now, looking over the past, I have no idea what was a blessing, what a curse; whether my career was worth the price; and when my encounters with women succeeded, and when they failed.

18

I went to see the painting again on Friday. The Art Gallery was full of students and their teachers. I liked the sound of so many voices, talking and calling out to each other; it reminded me of break time in the schoolyard, of summer days at the pool. A couple of teenagers stood in front of the painting, critiquing the woman’s figure. Were the hips too wide, the thighs too thick, the feet too small? I did not go up to them, but stood close enough that my presence bothered them, and they moved on.

I saw no flaw in the woman. But I didn’t see her as I had last seen her. Yes, she was softness, seduction, and surrender. She no longer offered up resistance. And yet she had not really given up. The tilt of her head, her lowered eyes and shut mouth bespoke hidden resistance, refusal, spite. She would never belong to the one who had power over her. She would play along, but would remain elusive.

Could I have seen that already then, and known how things would end? I was only briefly in Gundlach’s drawing room, and had had to listen to what he said, and couldn’t really look at the picture. If I’d been able to take a closer look, would I have known then?

She didn’t drop off the keys that evening. I took another day off, wanting to be at home if she came. I went shopping early, and was anxious when I got back and looked in the mailbox. But she had not left the keys. I am orderly, even fastidious, and I didn’t have to clean up my apartment for Irene. But I did put flowers in a vase, and fruit in a bowl. Because I was afraid that she might not like pedantic people, I let a couple of apples roll onto the table, scattered some books and periodicals on the floor next to the armchair, and spread out the draft of an article on my desk.

She came the next day. She rang the bell, and without looking out of the window, I knew it was her. Instead of buzzing her in, I ran down the stairs and opened the main door.

“I just wanted…” She held the key in her hand.

“Come up for a minute. We have to talk.”