Part 11 (1/2)

”Of what, then?”

Her eyes narrowed.

”You don't know?”

”Ah, that!” I said. ”And isn't that done any more?”

”It is, but not like that.”

”I do it so well?”

”No, certainly not. . . but it was as if you had wanted to. . .” She did not finish.

”To what?”

”You know. I felt it.”

”I was angry,” I confessed.

”Angry!” she said contemptuously. ”I thought that. . . I don't know what I thought. No one would dare to, you know.”

I began to smile a little.

”And you liked it.”

”You don't understand a thing. This is a world without fear, but you, one can be afraid of you.”

”You want more?” I asked.

Her lips parted, again she looked at me as at an imaginary beast.

”I do.”

She moved toward me. I took her hand, placed it against my own, flat -- her fingers barely reached beyond my palm.

”What a hard hand you have,” she said.

”It's from the stars. They're sharp-edged. And now say: What large teeth you have.”

She smiled.

”Your teeth are quite ordinary.”

Then she lifted my hand, and was so careful doing it that I remembered the encounter with the lion, but instead of feeling offended I smiled, because it was awfully stupid.

She got up, stood over me, poured herself a drink from a small dark bottle, and drank it down.

”Do you know what that is?” she asked, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up her face as if the liquid burned. She had enormous lashes, no doubt false. Actresses always have false lashes.

”No.”

”You won't tell anyone?”

”No.”

”Perto.”

”Well,” I said noncommittally.

She opened her eyes.

”I saw you before. You were walking with a horrible old man, and then you came back alone.”

”That was the son of a young colleague of mine,” I replied. The odd thing was, it was pretty much the truth.

”You attract attention -- do you know?”

”What can I do?”

”Not only because you're so big. You walk differently -- and you look around as though you. . .”

”What?”

”Were on your guard.”

”Against what?”

She did not answer. Her expression changed. Breathing more heavily, she examined her own hand. The fingers trembled.

”Now. . .” she said softly and smiled, though not at me. Her smile became inspired, the pupils dilated, engulfing the irises, she leaned back slowly until her head was on the gray pillow, the auburn hair fell loose, she gazed at me in a kind of jubilant stupor.

”Kiss me.”

I embraced her, and it was awful, because I wanted to and I didn't want to. It seemed to me that she had ceased to be herself -- as though at any moment she could change into something else. She sank her fingers into my hair; her breathing, when she tore herself away from me, was like a moan. One of us is false, contemptible, I thought, but who, she or I? I kissed her, her face was painfully beautiful, terribly alien, then there was only pleasure, unbearable, but even then the cold, silent observer remained in me; I did not lose myself. The back of the chair, obedient, became a rest for our heads, it was like the presence of a third person, degradingly attentive, and, as though aware of this, we did not exchange a single word during the entire time. Then I was dozing, my arms around her neck, and still it seemed to me that someone stood and watched, watched. . .

When I awoke, she was asleep. It was a different room. No, the same. But it had changed somehow -- a part of the wall had moved aside to reveal the dawn. Above us, as if it had been forgotten, a narrow lamp burned. Straight ahead, above the tops of the trees, which were still almost black, day was breaking. Carefully I moved to the edge of the bed; she murmured something like ”Alan,” and went on sleeping.

I walked through huge, empty rooms. In them were windows facing east. A red glow entered and filled the transparent furniture, which flickered with the fire of red wine. Through the suite of rooms I saw the silhouette of someone walking -- a pearly-gray robot without a face, its torso giving off a weak light; inside it glowed a ruby flame, like a small lamp before an icon.

”I wish to leave,” I said.

”Yes, sir.”

Silver, green, sky-blue stairs. I bade farewell to all the faces of Aen in the hall as high as a cathedral. It was day now. The robot opened the gate. I told it to call a gleeder for me.

”Yes, sir. Would you like the house one?”

”It can be the house one. I want to get to the Alcaron Hotel.”

”Very good, sir. Acknowledged.”