Farewell Waltz

scene attentively, burst into new applause, and the pianist, thinking that the acclaim was in tribute to his solo, nodded his head in acknowledgment as he continued to play.
Olga took hold of Jakub’s arm and whispered into his ear: “This is marvelous! So marvelous I think that from this moment on my lousy luck today is over.”
The trumpet and drums finally joined in. Klima was blowing in time with his small rhythmic steps, and Skreta sat enthroned over his drums like a splendid, dignified Buddha.
Jakub imagined the nurse thinking of her medicine during the concert, swallowing the tablet, collapsing in convulsions, and slumping dead in her seat while on the bandstand Dr. Skreta banged his drums and the audience yelled and applauded.
And all of a sudden he understood clearly why the young woman was sitting in the same row as he: the unexpected encounter in the brasserie a while ago had been a temptation, a test. It had occurred only so that he might see his own image in the mirror: the image of a man who gives his neighbor poison. But the One who is testing him (God, in whom he does not believe) demands no bloody sacrifice, no blood of innocents. The test might end not in a death but only in Jakub’s self-revelation, which might confiscate his inappropriate moral pride. The nurse is now sitting in the same row to enable him, at the last moment, to save her life. And that is also why she has next to her a man who the day before became Jakub’s friend and who will help him.
Yes, he will wait for the first opportunity, perhaps at the first break between numbers, and he will ask Bertlef and the young woman to step outside with him for a moment. Once there, he will explain everything, and the unbelievable madness will end.
The musicians finished the first piece, the applause broke out, the nurse said “Excuse me” and left the row, accompanied by Bertlef. Jakub tried to get up to follow them, but Olga grabbed him by the arm and restrained him: “No, please, not now. After intermission!”
It was all so quick he had no time to realize what happened. The musicians had already launched into the next piece, and Jakub understood that the One who was testing him had seated Ruzena nearby not in order to redeem him but in order to confirm his failure and his condemnation beyond all possible doubt.
The trumpeter was blowing, Dr. Skreta was towering over his drums like a great Buddha, and Jakub was sitting immobile in his seat. He saw neither the trumpeter nor Dr. Skreta, he saw only himself, he saw that he was sitting immobile, and he could not tear his eyes away from this horrifying image.
21
When the clear sound of his trumpet resounded in Klima’s ears, he believed that it was he himself who was vibrating thus, that he alone was filling the space of the entire hall. He felt strong and invincible. Ruzena was sitting in the row of complimentary reserved seats, she was sitting next to Bertlef (and that too was a good omen), and the evening’s atmosphere was delightful. The audience was listening intently and, above all, in such a good mood that it gave Klima the cautious hope that all would end well. When the applause for the first piece broke out, he pointed with a stylish gesture to Dr. Skreta, who for some reason he found likable and felt close to that evening. The doctor stood up behind his drums and took a bow.
But when he looked into the audience after the second piece, he noticed that Ruzena’s seat was empty. This frightened him. From then on he played tensely, running his eyes over the entire hall seat by seat, checking each one but failing to find her. He thought that she had deliberately left in order not to have to hear his arguments once again, having made up her mind not to appear before the Abortion Committee. Where should he look for her after the concert? And what would happen if he failed to find her?
He felt that he was playing badly, mechanically, absentmindedly. But incapable as it was of detecting the trumpeter’s gloomy mood, the audience was satisfied and the ovations increased in intensity after each piece.
He reassured himself with the thought that she had merely gone to the toilet. That she was having the sickness common to pregnant women. When half an hour had passed he told himself that she had gone home to get something and would be reappearing in her seat. But after the intermission had gone by and the concert was nearing its end, her seat was still vacant. Perhaps she didn’t dare come back into the hall in the middle of the concert. Perhaps she would come back during the final applause.
But now he was hearing the final applause. Ruzena had not appeared, and Klima was at his wits’ end. The audience rose and shouted for encores. Klima turned toward Dr. Skreta and shook his head to indicate that he did not want to play anymore. But he was met by a pair of radiant eyes that wanted only to drum, to go on drumming the whole night through.
The audience interpreted Klima’s shake of the head as a star’s routine flirtatiousness and went on applauding. Just then a beautiful young woman edged her way to the foot of the bandstand, and when he noticed her, Klima thought he was going to collapse, to faint and never reawaken. She smiled at him and said (he could not hear her voice, but he read the words on her lips): “Please play! Please! Please!”
Klima lifted his trumpet to show that he was going to play. The audience instantly quieted.
His two partners were delighted and started to encore the last piece. For Klima it was as if he were playing in the funeral band marching behind his own coffin. He played, and he knew