It was extraordinary, but I couldn't, and I felt it strongly.
It had never been so before.
I had no exaggerated ideas about fidelity.
But it simply was not possible any more.
I suddenly felt how far I had gone already from all that.
She stood framed in the doorway.
"You are going?" She ran back. "Here, I know you left some money for me— under the newspaper. I don't want it. There—there—yes, only go—"
"I must, Lisa."
"You will never come again."
"Oh yes, Lisa."
"No, no, you will never return, I know.
And you must never return.
But go, do go now—" She was crying.
I went down the stairs and did not look back.
I walked a long time through the streets.
It was a strange night.
I was still wakeful and could not sleep.
I passed the International, I thought of Lisa and the years gone by, of many things that I had forgotten; but it was all far away and seemed not to belong to me any more.
Then I wandered down the street where Pat lived.
The wind became stronger, all the windows in her place were in darkness, dawn was creeping on grey feet past the doorways; and at last I went home.
My God, thought I, I believe I am happy.
Chapter XIII
"The lady you are always hiding," said Frau Zalewski, "you have no need to hide.
She can come quite openly.
I like her."
"You haven't ever seen her," I replied.
"Don't worry, I have seen her," declared Frau Zalewski with emphasis. "I have seen her and I like her—very much, indeed—but she is not a woman for you."
"Really?"
"No, I've been wondering wherever in all your pubs you can have dug her up.
But of course, the worst vagabond—"
"I think we're getting off the subject," I interrupted.
"That," said she, putting her hands on her hips, "is a woman for a man in good, secure circumstances.
For a rich man, in short."
Direct hit, my boy, thought I.
The very thing you lack.
"You could say that of any woman," I declared irritably.
She shook her grey locks.
"You wait.
The future will show."
"Ach, the future!" I flung my cuff links on the table. "Who cares about the future these days?
Why should anyone bother about that now?"
Frau Zalewski looked pained and wagged her majestic head.
"Extraordinary creatures you young people are, altogether.
The past you hate, the present you despise, and the future is a matter of indifference.
How do you suppose that can lead to any good end?"
"Well, what do you mean by a good end?" I asked. "An end can be good only if everything before it has been bad.
So a bad end is better." "Those are Jewish perversions," replied Frau Zalewski with dignity, turning resolutely to the door.
She had her hand already on the latch when she stopped short as if suddenly nailed to the spot. "Dinner suit?" she breathed in astonishment. "You?"
With large eyes she contemplated Otto Koster's suit hanging on the wardrobe door.
I had borrowed it, as I meant to go to the theatre with Pat that evening.