Farewell Waltz

an open cigar box, beside the telephone, which was filled with half-dollar pieces: “Avarice is a sin,” he said, and smiled.
Jakub remarked that he had never before met anyone who believed so fervently in God while knowing so well how to enjoy life.
“That is probably because you have never before met a true Christian. The word of the Gospel, as you know, is a message of joy. The enjoyment of life is the most important teaching of Jesus.”
Olga considered this an opportunity to enter the conversation: “Insofar as I can trust what my teachers said, Christians saw earthly life as a vale of tears and rejoiced in the idea that true life would begin for them after death.”
“My dear young lady,” Bertlef said, “never believe teachers.”
“And what the saints all did,” Olga went on, “was to renounce life. Instead of making love they flagellated themselves; instead of discussing things as you and I are doing they retreated to hermitages; and instead of ordering dinner by telephone they chewed roots.”
“You don’t understand anything about saints, my dear. These people were immensely attached to the pleasures of life. But they attained them by other means. In your opinion, what is man’s supreme pleasure? You could try to guess, but you would be deceiving yourself, because you are not sincere enough. This is not a reproach, for sincerity requires self-knowledge and self-knowledge is the fruit of age. How could a young woman like you, who radiates youthfulness, be sincere? She cannot be sincere because she does not even know what there is within her. But if she did know, she would have to admit along with me that the greatest pleasure is to be admired. Do you agree?”
Olga replied that she knew of greater pleasures.
“No,” said Bertlef. “Take for instance your famous runner, the one every child here knows about because he won three Olympic events. Do you think he renounced life? And yet instead of chatting, making love, and eating well, he surely had to spend his time constantly running round and round a stadium. His training very much resembled what our most celebrated saints did. Saint Makarios of Alexandria, when he was in the desert, regularly refilled a basket with sand, put it on his back, and traveled endless distances in this way day after day until he dropped from total exhaustion. But both for your runner and for Saint Makarios, there was surely a great reward that amply repaid them for all their efforts. Do you know what it is to hear the applause in an immense Olympic stadium? There is no greater joy! Saint Makarios of Alexandria knew why he carried a basket of sand on his back. The glory of his desert marathons soon spread throughout Christendom. And Saint Makarios was like your runner. Your runner, too, first won the five-thousand-meter race, then the ten-thousand-meter, and finally nothing sufficed for him but to win the marathon as well. The desire for admiration is insatiable. Saint Makarios went to a monastery in Thebes without making himself known and asked to be accepted as a member. Then, when the Lenten fast began, came his hour of glory. All the monks fasted sitting down, but he remained standing for the entire forty-day fast! You have no idea what a triumph that was! Or remember Saint Simeon Stylites! In the desert he built a pillar with a narrow platform on top. There was no room to sit on it, he had to stand. And he remained standing there for the rest of his life, and all Christendom enthusiastically admired this man’s incredible record, which seemed to exceed human limits. Saint Simeon Stylites was the Gagarin of the fifth century. Can you imagine the happiness of Saint Geneviève of Paris the day she learned from a Welsh trading mission that Saint Simeon Stylites had heard of her and blessed her from atop his pillar? And why do you think he wanted to set a record? Because he didn’t care about life and mankind? Don’t be naïve! The church fathers knew very well that Saint Simeon Stylites was vain, and they put him to the test. In the name of their spiritual authority they ordered him to descend from his pillar and retire from competition. It was a harsh blow to Saint Simeon Stylites! But he was either wise or cunning enough to obey them. The church fathers were not hostile to his record-setting, but they wanted to be certain that Saint Simeon’s vanity did not prevail over his sense of discipline. As soon as they saw him sadly descending from his perch, they ordered him to climb back up, ensuring that Saint Simeon could die on his pillar surrounded by the love and admiration of the world.”
Olga listened attentively, and upon hearing Bertlef’s last words she began to laugh.
“That tremendous desire for admiration has nothing laughable about it, I find it rather moving,” said Bertlef. “Someone who desires admiration is attached to his fellow men, he cares about them, he cannot live without them. Saint Simeon Stylites is alone in the desert on a square meter of pillar. And yet he is with all mankind! He imagines millions of eyes raised toward him. He is present in millions of thoughts, and this delights him. It is a great example of love for mankind and love for life. You would not suspect, dear young lady, to what extent Simeon Stylites continues to live in every one of us. And to this day he is the better of the polarities of our being.”
Someone knocked at the door, and in came a waiter pushing a cart loaded with food. He spread a tablecloth and set the table. Bertlef dug into the cigar box and stuffed a fistful of coins into the waiter’s pocket. Then they all began to eat, with the waiter behind them pouring wine and serving the various dishes.
Bertlef commented greedily on the tastiness of each dish, and Skreta remarked that he didn’t know