BooksBarbecue
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?

Irene looked out at the sea. Her face had lost all freshness and colour, only weariness and exhaustion remained. The break from her illness, which she didn’t want to talk about, was over. She ran her hand over Gundlach’s head, the way you’d pet a dog that came and sat next to you, and stood up. She could barely stay on her feet, but when I wanted to get up and help her, she gave me a look that forbade it. She didn’t want to seem weak in front of Gundlach. “Good night.” She walked slowly to the stairs and up them; at each step she paused to gather her strength for the next step, and for another, and yet another. I found it painful to watch.

“What’s wrong with her?” whispered Gundlach.

“Ask her yourself.” Then I couldn’t hold back. “You really laid it on thick. Amazing that you’ve been so successful in business and politics. I thought one needed a certain sensitivity for that.”

“The way you see people is too simplistic. The soul of a poet and the brains of a merchant – I don’t wish to compare myself with Rathenau, but the two are compatible. There’s nothing contradictory about wanting to live with the painting while enjoying the millions that are rightfully mine.”

“You’ve read Rathenau?”

“Rathenau, and Weber and Schumpeter and Marx. If those names mean anything to you. I have more than accounts and stocks in my head. And if I’m right and you helped Irene back then, and I bring that up in court, you’re finished as an attorney. You should pray that I don’t have to take anyone to court to get the painting, not Schwind and not Irene.”

He had become ever louder. I asked him to calm down; Irene wanted to sleep.

“There’s no reason she shouldn’t hear what I have to say. Everyone here seems to know everything anyway; I can’t talk to Irene without you sitting next to us. Take a walk tomorrow, a nice long walk. Do you understand me?”

While I was wondering whether I should nod simply to calm Gundlach down, Kari stepped out from the dark. He did nothing threatening, yet there was a menace in his presence. He looked at Gundlach and raised his finger to his mouth. Gundlach stared back at Kari as if he’d seen a ghost. Then Kari disappeared, and Gundlach took a deep breath. He shook his head. “I…I’m going to bed.”

15

Irene did not get up the next morning. I was woken by the click-clack of Gundlach’s cane on the stairs. I got dressed, went to the window and saw him standing by the beach, staring out at the sea. The pilot must have got up and left the house quietly. He was back on the jetty, dangling his legs and smoking.