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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?

“Our lawyer!” Gundlach stopped me. “He,” he nodded his head at Schwind, “has at least created an oeuvre and made a fortune with it, and I did what I did, but you? Fancy firm, I know, big cases, but always doing other people’s dirty work – you are a lackey, sir. First you were his,” again he tipped his head towards Schwind, “then mine, then hers.” Then, to Irene, “You’d do best to keep quiet.”

“What the hell—” I wasn’t going to take that lying down.

“A lackey.” Schwind laughed, loudly. “A lackey. Like the butlers, who think they’re a cut above, but they’re still just lackeys. I remember your butler. A servile soul, who—”

“He was a better man than you. He never said it out loud, but he missed the painting too, and I feel bad that he can’t see it in its old place. Irene,” he spoke with the friendly patience one uses with a fractious child, “I want to leave you in peace, no police, no criminal trial, no lawsuit for the painting either. We can’t put everything right that went wrong back then. But the painting needs to go back where it belongs.”

“Same old tune!” Schwind threw up his hands, fingers splayed, then let them sink down again as he had back in my office. “Everything has a place, where it belongs, and when it isn’t where it belongs – stop it, Gundlach. It’s enough. Irene ought to decide, and that should be the end of it. If she gives you the painting, then you should have it, and if she—”

Gundlach shook his head. “Irene only has one option, you know that as well as I. Ask our lackey. Ingratiating yourself with Irene won’t help you and it doesn’t help her.”

“You were married to this asshole? This greedy—”

“Greedy? You want the painting as much as I do. You’re not fooling anyone with your soft words, with your ‘Irene should decide’ – not me, not her.”

Irene stood up. She looked awful, old, tired, ill. “I gave the painting to the Art Gallery weeks ago. It is no longer mine to give, to either of you. I just wanted to see you both again.” She looked at me, and I laid my right arm around her and helped her to the stairs and then up the stairs. She lay down in bed without undressing, I pulled the blanket from underneath her and spread it on top of her. She was asleep when I shut the door.

25

When I came back down to the balcony, Gundlach and Schwind had found their voices again. “Can she give away something that doesn’t belong to her?” Gundlach asked.