The Portmanteau by Bozorg Alavi, Translated by Ali Salami, Part 2

 

Part II

 

                As our car had a stop for nearly an hour in Gorlitz, I arrived in Sitto in the evening from where I went to the Country by train. I left the portmanteau in the railway station and inquired after Katushka in the country inns. (There were only two.) She was staying at the Green House Inn. There I rented a room. Katushka, her mother, and another woman had two rooms at the Green House. After a time, I wrote a few words on my cards: “My dear Katushka, I have just arrived. I wish to see you. Fix the time and place. F.”

                I rang the bell. A nineteen-year-old maid opened the door. She had blonde hair and greenish eyes. She smiled as I gave her the card.

                “Are you Mr. F? it’s four days since the Lady has been inquiring after you.”

                “From you?”

                “You know. I like her. They were here last year. They gave me a book. You know?”

                “What?”

                “Mistress confides her secrets to me.”

                “What’s your name?”

                “Friedel.”

                “Well, Friedel. Will you tell me her secrets?”

“Please don’t insist.”

“All right. Don’t tell me if you don’t wish to.” The girl reflected.

“No, I’ll tell you because I know Miss Katushka loves you. She’s been inquiring after you since the day she came here. Today, a certain gentleman came to my mistress. He was with them when they came here to rent the rooms. Mistress doesn’t like him, you know. I think she is obliged to be with him. This evening she was wondering when you would come.”

Fishing out a two-mark bill from my pocket, I furtively thrust it in her hand and asked: “Well, Friedel. Tell me, what kind of man is he?”

“I simply don’t know. I didn’t see him distinctly.”

“All right, Friedel, have this card to mistress and take care nobody notices.”

It was as if cold water had been poured on me … I thought of leaving the inn and going to where my father was staying. After all, girls are girls. Their tears and smiles are false. If Katushka is a liar, all the girls are liars. But how can these glittering eyes lie? Have not their eyes and cheeks ensnared me? That man must also be in love with beauty. In what ways am I superior to him? In fact, she may love me, but his bank account is undoubtedly more significant than mine. Yes, money is the first pillar of holly's foundation of a family. I wish I had not sent her the card. Why should I have cheapened myself by sending her the card? But as the girl was aware of everything, I could not do otherwise. Friedel came back. On a card, Katushka Oslovovna had written: “My mother wishes to make your acquittance and invites you to have dinner with us on the veranda.” … Now I must change my clothes, observe etiquette and kiss her mother’s hand… I’ve come for the sole purpose of kissing Katushka’s cheeks and looking into her eyes’. Excuse me tonight. I should call on my father as I’ve already planned to. Katushka Oslovovna. I uttered the name aloud. It actually escaped my tongue. The door opened. Katushka entered and stepped up to me.

“You came at last! I had no hope of you coming,” she observed.

The soft music of her voice made me forget all I thought of her. Kissing her hand, I seated her on the coach.

“Yes, I came at last,” I answered.

Perching on the edge of the coach, I put my hands around her neck. She gazed at me.

“I’d forsaken all hopes of your coming.”

“Why?”

“Why?! Do I not know you? You are fundamentally a daydreamer. You are never awake. Now that I am talking to you, you are not listening to me.”

She was right. At that moment, I was watching the rosy flowers on her white gown. I had feasted my eyes on her voluptuously white breasts, which were visible through her transparent batiste. Her shapely neck, now wrapped in a black muffler, gave me enormous delight. I gazed at her black eyelashes, which had almost curtained her eyes. I was not listening to her remarks simply because they were so commonplace. My eyes were fixed on hers.

“I came in person so as to ask not to refuse my mother’s invitation,” she said.

“What made you think that I wouldn’t turn up?”

“I know you hate such formalities,” she said.

For the answer, I pressed my lips upon hers, sucking them awhile. She knew me so well. (How did she know me so well?) This question would be an insult to her. This girl was oversentimental. Still, she was incapable of false feelings. Was such a thing possible? “It’s a month since we have known each other. But it seems I have known you ever since I knew myself. Where did I first see you? In a dream? Yes, In a dream. Maybe I was then fifteen years old. I was always in love with greenish eyes like yours. I’ve always loved blond hair like yours. Do you remember what I told you the first night we met? I have always cherished an illusion. Now I see it manifested in you, in your lugubrious thoughts, in your life, and in your troubled soul. You know my life well. You are an odd person. I know well that your love is not forever. It’s a wave that comes and goes. A wave goes, but water remains for all the time to come. You will forget me, won’t you? But I won’t forget you. My dream has eventually come true. My life is not wasted away. So far, I’ve been fostering this illusion. From this onwards, the reminiscence of those days will keep me alive. You can’t marry me. So how can you live with me your entire life? But as long as I am with you I ….”

She burst into an agony of tears.

“I’ll have to get married sooner or later,” she sobbed.

Now her mystery broke upon my understanding. The man with whom she had newly become acquainted was to become her husband. Katushka might love me without being my legal wife if she wished so, and other factors didn’t compel her. But now, she was compelled by nobody, neither by father nor by mother but by an accursed ghastly demon, money, society, and environment, to sell herself for an entire life so as she may sustain life. All the girls sell themselves either for an hour or a day at a low price or for an entire life to keep soul and body together.

“Stop crying, Katushka. Now you see why I detest the world so intensely.”

She did not understand what I said but kissed me a kiss which could have been given by none but a black-haired Russian girl.

“When shall we meet again?” She asked.

“Can we go for a little turn after dinner?”

“All right. After dinner.”