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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?

Night had fallen, again it had only taken minutes. But the night wasn’t black; the moon cast a silver light on the leaves and the sea. It shone on Irene’s face, highlighting its tiredness, its wrinkles and sagging so mercilessly that I felt pity for her – and myself. We were old, it was all such a long time ago. Why worry her, why worry myself with this old affair?

But I couldn’t leave that old affair behind so easily. Just as I was admitting it to myself, she said: “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I felt so caged that all I wanted was to break free. I didn’t care about anything else. When I think back…you were still such a child.”

4

If I had still been a child then, what was I now? As I lay in bed, Irene’s remark kept me awake. Of course, I know far more about human nature and how to handle people now than I did then; what one owes them, what one should not put up with, how to act during negotiations and how to act in court. But I knew it all then too, the rudiments at least, and I hadn’t felt like a child.

The small room that Irene had given me faced the sea. If I listened closely, I could hear in the silence the waves washing ashore, the rush as they came in, the rustle through the pebbles as they retreated. The room was lit with moonlight; I could clearly see the cupboard, the chair, the mirror.

If I listened closely, I thought I could hear Irene’s breathing. But that couldn’t be; there was another room between hers and mine. But if I wasn’t hearing her breathing, I was hearing the house breathe, and that was even more impossible. A steady, heavy flow in and out. Then I heard an animal screech, a cry that peeled out as if the creature had awoken from a nightmare, or been petrified by something awful.

Or it had been startled by the wind that suddenly kicked up. Out of nothing it blew around the house, shaking it until the beams creaked. I got up and went to the window, expecting the first drops. But the sky was clear and the moon shone. The wind brought no rain with it; it only bent the trees and made the house groan.