Days later, Madam X made light of the time she had taken her clothes off, and laughed it off as ‘‘epilepsy,’’ which was ‘‘inexplicable, that’s all.’’ She decided to ‘‘meet someone only by chance.’’ She said she had now completely stabilized: indeed, her feelings ‘‘could penetrate the mountain ranges and reach the polar region.’’ Her fingers were becoming more ‘‘velvety and delicate’’ by the day; her ‘‘anxiety wouldn’t return.’’ From then on, sure enough, she seldom went out. She spent the entire day at home and in the snack shop, in every action showing ‘‘refinement and ease’’ (the sister’s words). She kept her eyes down and never looked at other people (even when she was waiting on customers, she was like this; sometimes, she looked at the air over a person’s head or at the ground beneath his feet, but you definitely couldn’t catch a glimpse of her eyes). When she talked with you, she did so in a drifting, hesitant tone which embarrassed you. She herself was unaware of this.
More time went by, and Madam X lived her life quietly. Quite a few men grew interested in her, and she looked them over one by one. Finally, she confirmed that she hadn’t recognized that person from among them. As for them, of course they couldn’t bear her rigorous, cold looks, which defeated them the first time they challenged her, and they gave up thoughts of overstepping their bounds. She said that she would recognize the person she was longing to find. No matter where she was, no matter what the occasion, she would know; there’d be no mistake. He had unique eyes and strong hands and ‘‘hot blood surging through his veins.’’
But sometimes her view was diametrically opposite. ‘‘Maybe that person is just in my imagination.’’ As the sun was setting on a winter day, she sighed and said to her sister, ‘‘I’m not worried about this. Whatever will be, will be. Anyhow, I want to experiment-see how high I can reach. Even if there’s nothing afterwards, I always have to experiment. This is predestined.’’
With that, she turned her face toward the sunlight and asked her sister whether she saw anything in her eyes. Uncomprehending, her sister said it seemed as if her eyes had a few little fish swimming back and forth in them. Madam X told her: certainly not fish, but ‘‘the rays of her very being.’’ Only that person could see these rays of her being, for that person had the same kind of eyes. They would recognize each other by their eyes. Now she felt that her eyes were glowing more each day. ‘‘Their intensity can illuminate everything in the universe.’’
The Way Things Are Done
1. A FEW OPINIONS ABOUT THE STORY'S BEGINNING
If an outsider asked ordinary people on Five Spice Street for details about this story, he might be surprised to learn that they wouldn’t even acknowledge there was any story. None would be willing to waste their breath on it. They’re all too busy, too preoccupied. If an outsider persisted, they’d fly into a rage, deeply insulted.
‘‘We all have a lot to do and can’t be bothered with this trivia. If you want to discuss techniques like developing color film or the relationship between the Constitution and the people-that’s something else: we have to get to the theoretical roots of these questions. Some people with ulterior motives try to attach the present issue of X and Q to things that are of the essence. This modus operandi makes us indignant. Nobody takes X or Q seriously. Ordinarily, we seldom pay them any attention, but as soon as they’re dragged up, it’s as though we attach a lot of importance to them. Whoever raises the issue is luring us down the path of evil. They stretch the net and wait for their quarry. In fact, we don’t have any story.’’ Then they scatter, leaving the visitor behind. They’re all sophisticated, reliable people.
We can’t find fault with such generous, kind, ordinary people. They were indifferent to the injuries to their souls. As for the future, they were filled with confidence, always humble and down-to-earth. They discussed the past as though all their memories were rosy and beautiful. Everyone knew that they were glossing over the fateful, calamitous attacks they had suffered. The past was still vivid, and everybody had had tearful experiences. Now it was over, and it wasn’t in their character to belabor yesterday’s sorrows. The road ahead was long and strewn with problems. You just had to brace yourself and continue: there was no other choice. It was undeniable: to this day, that spectacular, weird time remained shadowy in their minds. Whenever they mulled it over alone, their past misgivings and humiliation and their sense of being duped, along with their regrets and remorse, surged up like a flood: there was nothing good about this. Each of them suppressed it, determined to cast off the past and move ahead in high spirits. In order to put it thoroughly behind them, they established strict timetables for work and rest. The timetables accounted for every minute and every second of the day. Everyone had to abide by them; special supervisors were assigned to ensure compliance. The objective was to control the free flood of sloppy sentiments and guarantee the healthy development of ideology.
As for the beginning of the unfortunate incident, five persons had dictated reports. These were on file. Each report was vividly told from a different angle of vision. Each person’s original view refuted the views of others. Reading them, you’ll be astonished at how complicated and confusing they are. This also showed the diversity and independence of the ordinary people’s psychology. They weren’t easily swayed and were singularly repelled by those who were. Nobody could force his opinion on them. If you wanted to try to smooth things over and bring about unanimity, you’d be ridiculed.
The Report of the Old Widow in the Little Black Felt Hat
‘‘Whenever I think of my beloved cousin, I recall the time when I kicked off the blanket at midnight. You all know that the only thing on my bed that’s worth anything is that coarse blanket. My quilt is thirty years old and has been in rags for a long time. The mat under the sheet is only straw. But the blanket is really worth something: when the sun catches it, its golden wool shines as though burning up. Forty years ago, my father gave me this blanket (at the time, my handsome cousin was also on the scene) and said, ‘This is a genuine pure wool blanket.’ I can still remember his voice and can remember even more clearly my cousin’s charming little smile. (She swallowed her saliva again and again for ten minutes, closed her eyes, and didn’t move, as if she had forgotten she was speaking. Not until the other person shook her shoulders roughly did she gradually come to.) How could I have kicked the blanket off? It’s a long story. It was spring then, very humid and very hot. When you use a quilt, you shouldn’t need to add a blanket.
‘‘It was my damn nephew who caused all the problems. In fact, he wasn’t any nephew of mine. For twelve years, he had been pretending to be my nephew. Even now, everyone believes his pretense. This is really peculiar. This guy was a rootless bum-an orphan. He was also a hypocrite who had lost his humanity: he stole and robbed, and drank people’s lifeblood. A huge carbuncle hung perennially from his cheek. I don’t know what caused the misunderstanding (I curse the son-of-a-bitch who spread this rumor). A lot of people thought he was the right person to deliver my coal. I detest the ill-disposed suggestion. If this guy really did so, I would fight him to the death. Although I’m old and weak, I can still beat this guy up with no problem. Anyhow, I definitely didn’t let him set foot in my home; he would have to wait a long time before he could prevail. I watched the house for a whole winter, which is also to say that for a whole winter, I didn’t light a fire (I couldn’t do two things at the same time). It was frightfully damp in the house, but I was in a good mood. Then it was spring, and inside it seemed to be drizzling. I put the blanket on top of the quilt, and because it got too hot at midnight, I kicked it off. When I got up in the morning and looked around, the blanket was on the floor. That’s when the incident occurred. Of course, the one who came in was my cousin; he helped me by bringing coal.