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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 went to meet Irene, following the tracks that led towards the farms as best I could. Then I sat down on a stone and waited. The air was again filled with the scent of pine and eucalyptus, and the chirr of cicadas. Despite the rain the day before, everything was dry, the grass and brush were brown, and the trees stretched parched branches towards the sky. From far away, I heard the Jeep.

Irene looked exhausted again. I told her that Gundlach was here; she wasn’t upset, as I had expected, but animated; her eyes shone, colour came into her cheeks, her voice became strong. She wanted to know what he and I had talked about, and I told her. “Yes,” she said laughing, “that’s how he is.”

“You expected him?”

She nodded.

“You gave the painting to the gallery to lure him here?”

She shrugged her shoulders – evasive, agreeing, rejecting, maybe annoyed at the “lure.”

“Is Schwind coming too?”

“I hope so.”

“When you gave the painting to the gallery, did you think about me too?”

“Did I want to lure you here too? I wanted to see Peter and Karl again. I wasn’t thinking of you.”

I knew that I had no right to be, but I was hurt. Despite the rough road, she noticed, and laid her hand on my arm. I put it back. “You need both hands to drive.”

“I want to know what’s left. And back then, was I really just a trophy and a muse? What were they for me? I think I must have loved how uncompromising they were, the relentless energy with which Peter got richer and richer, and ever more powerful, and how Karl tried to paint the perfect work of art. They were both obsessed, and I was looking for something that would take possession of me. I’d come into an inheritance, my mother let me do what I wanted, on the condition that I let her do what she wanted. I studied art history, worked in the museum and thought…I really thought that with the right man I’d find the right life. A life where something great would possess me, something I wanted to give everything for.”

Why had she never had children, but rather gathered children off the street? Instead, I asked what she expected to be left. “That Gundlach still wants to be richer and more powerful? That Schwind still wants to paint the perfect picture?”

She stopped. “I don’t know.”

“That they still love you?”

“That would be silly.” She went silent, then spoke again slowly and hesitantly. “I would be happy enough if I recognized them. And could remember why I loved them. Why I left them. You had a steady life. Mine feels like a vase that fell to the floor and shattered into pieces.”

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