Farewell Waltz

how long it had been since he had had such a good meal. “Maybe the last time was when my mother was still cooking for me, but I was still little then. I’ve been an orphan since the age of five. After that, the world around me was a strange world, and the cooking also seemed strange to me. The love of food arises from the love of the nearest and dearest.”
“Quite right,” said Bertlef, lifting a mouthful of beef to his lips.
“A forsaken child loses its appetite,” Skreta went on. “Believe me, to this day I feel bad about having no father or mother. Believe me, to this day, and as old as I am, I’d give anything to have a papa.”
“You overestimate family affinities,” said Bertlef. “Everyone is your nearest and dearest. Don’t forget what Jesus said when they tried to call him back to his mother and brothers. He pointed to his disciples and said: ‘Here are my mother and my brothers.’”
“And yet the Holy Church,” Dr. Skreta ventured to reply, “didn’t have the slightest desire to abolish the family or to replace it with a community open to everyone.”
“There is a difference between the Holy Church and Jesus. And to my mind Saint Paul, if you will allow me to say so, is not only the successor but also the falsifier of Jesus. First there is the sudden change from Saul to Paul! As if we have not known enough of those passionate fanatics who trade one faith for another in the course of a night! And let no one tell me that the fanatics are guided by love! They are moralists muttering their ten commandments. But Jesus was not a moralist. Remember what he said when they reproached him for not celebrating the Sabbath: ‘The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath.’ Jesus loved women! And can you picture Saint Paul with the features of a lover? Saint Paul would condemn me because I love women. But Jesus would not. I don’t see anything bad about loving women, many women, and about being loved by women, many women.” Bertlef smiled, and his smile expressed great self-satisfaction: “My friends, I have not had an easy life, and more than once I have looked death in the eye. But in one thing God has shown himself to be generous to me. I have had a multitude of women, and they have loved me.”
The guests finished their meal, and the waiter was beginning to clear the table when there was another knock at the door. It was weak, shy knocking, as if begging for encouragement. “Come in!” said Bertlef.
The door opened, and a child came in. It was a little girl about five years old; she was wearing a ruffled white dress belted with a broad white ribbon tied in back with a huge bow looking like a pair of wings. She was holding a flower by the stem: a large dahlia. Seeing in the room so many people who all seemed to be staring dumbfounded at her, she stopped, not daring to go farther.
Then Bertlef, beaming, stood up and said: “Don’t be afraid, little angel, come on in.”
And the child, as though she were seeing support in Bertlef’s smile, burst out laughing and ran over to Bertlef, who accepted the flower and kissed her on the forehead.
The guests and the waiter watched this scene with surprise. With the huge white bow on her back, the child really did look like a little angel. And Bertlef, bending over her with the dahlia in his hand, made one think of the Baroque statues of saints to be seen in the country’s small towns.
“Dear friends,” he said, turning to his guests, “I have had a very pleasant time with you, and I hope that you too have enjoyed yourselves. I would gladly stay with you late into the night, but as you can see, I am unable to. This beautiful angel has come to summon me to a person who is waiting for me. I told you that life has struck me with all kinds of blows, but women have loved me.”
Bertlef held the dahlia against his chest with one hand and with the other touched the little girl’s shoulder. He bowed to his small group of guests. Olga thought him ridiculously theatrical, and she was delighted to see him go and that, finally, she would soon be alone with Jakub.
Bertlef turned around and, taking the little girl’s hand, headed toward the door. But before leaving the room he bent over the cigar box to fill his pocket with an ample fistful of coins.
11
The waiter stacked the dirty dishes and empty bottles on the cart, and when he had left the room, Olga asked: “Who is that little girl?”
“I’ve never seen her before,” said Skreta.
“She really did have the look of a little angel,” said Jakub.
“An angel who procures mistresses for him?” said Olga.
“Yes,” said Jakub. “A procurer and go-between angel. It’s exactly how I picture his guardian angel.”
“I don’t know if she’s an angel,” said Skreta, “but what’s curious is that I’ve never seen this little girl before, although I know nearly everybody around here.”
“In that case there’s only one explanation,” said Jakub. “She’s not of this world.”
“Whether she’s an angel or the chambermaid’s daughter, I can guarantee you,” said Olga, “that he hasn’t gone to meet a woman! He’s a terribly vain character, and all he does is brag.”
“I find him likable,” said Jakub.
“He might well be,” said Olga, “but I still insist he’s the vainest kind of character. I’m willing to bet that an hour before we arrived he gave some of those fifty-cent coins to that little girl and asked her to come here at a certain time holding a flower. Believers have a great talent for staging miracles.”
“I very much hope you’re right,” said Dr. Skreta. “Because Mister Bertlef is actually a very sick man, and a night of love