At seven o’clock I made my way to the Wenzelsplatz. Alexandr was to be there at half past, in plenty of time for the party at eight. I arrived early and waited.
Now I was terrified of the party, envisioning the array of horrors the evening might contain. I began to walk up the length of the square to distract myself. ‘If I walk once up and down,’ I told myself, ‘Alexandr will be there when I get back.’ I forced myself to walk slowly and concentrate on each step, but my thoughts would not be quieted. When I got back to the monument Alexandr was still not there. I walked all around the monument in case he was standing on the other side. It was twenty to eight. Everything was very quiet. Above me the figure of St Ludmila was only a black shape that rose up and blotted out the stars. I glanced at my watch, which was now showing a quarter to eight. I was in agonies at the thought of Franz arriving at the party before us.
There came the sound of hurrying feet and ragged breath.
‘Herr Brod?’ came a voice, and a man was beside me. I could not see him clearly in the gloom cast by the monument.
‘Alexandr?’
‘No,’ said the man, ‘my name is Gustav. Alexandr could not come tonight. I will take his place.’
I felt the muscles on my face slacken with shock and the buildings around the square reeled before my eyes. It could not be true. I cursed Alexandr, and myself for trusting him.
Even in the dark Gustav must have seen the look on my face, for he quickly began to assure me of the similarity between him and Alexandr. He stepped away from the statue and removed his hat to let the light shine better on his face. I noticed that he was wearing what looked like the same grey suit that Alexandr had worn to the dinner. It was true that he did resemble Alexandr. He was dark and had the same upright, martial way of holding himself. But, even if I tried to imagine that it was Alexandr, it was clear to me that it was a different man. However, I had spent more time with him than Theodor, who had only seen him for an hour at the most. There was a chance, I thought, that he would not notice. If I was very lucky. By now it was almost eight o’clock.
‘Let’s go,’ I said.
The weather had turned and a light rain had begun. The lights from the lamps were reflected on the stones of the street, making starry patches under our feet that flashed up at us as we walked. The party was being held at the Hotel Europa, which was only a short walk from the monument—too short, I now felt.
With every step I cursed Franz, who was the cause of all of this mess. I felt like a man walking to his own certain death, but I could not turn away. I was propelled forward, as though swept up in an avalanche, and the weight of all my shame and anger roared at my heels. I heard my footsteps clatter along, and saw my dim shadow swinging back and forth like a pendulum beside Gustav’s gliding one. I imagined all the faces at the party turned towards me, looking with disgust at my hulking body, which revealed the true ugliness of my innermost self.
Gustav did not try to speak with me. He just walked along, quietly humming a tune, and though the rain increased he let the light raindrop beads encrust his hat and shoulders instead of putting up his umbrella. The rain had made the cobblestones slippery and my left foot kept sliding sideways on them. I was using my umbrella as a walking stick to steady myself. I was becoming soaked but I knew that if I put up my umbrella it would be difficult for me to keep my balance.
I wanted to ask Gustav to hold my umbrella over me. I formulated the question in my head: Would you mind covering me with an umbrella? Or could I take your arm? It’s difficult for me to walk in the rain. My lips mouthed the questions. Were they reasonable requests? Or were they irksome? Making another person responsible for my own inability to walk. The more I considered it, the less I was able to determine which it was.[13]
I slowed down to put up my umbrella, which had a mechanism that often jammed. Gustav walked on ahead of me. I succeeded in getting the umbrella up and immediately felt better. Gustav had proceeded quite far up the road. I could see the raindrops sparkling on his head and shoulders as he passed beneath the streetlamps.
I quickened my pace to catch up with him, holding out my left arm as a counterweight to the umbrella, but of course I had only proceeded a short way before I missed my step. My foot slid away from me and I came down heavily on the stones. My umbrella tumbled away down the street. There was nothing to hold on to and I scrabbled around trying to stand up. An image came to me of myself as Gregor, grovelling on the floor of his house.
Gustav had run away down the street to retrieve my umbrella. By the time I was standing again he was back at my side, holding out my umbrella for me to take. I wanted to cry with self-pity. My right wrist ached from where I had fallen on it and the skin had scraped away. I was too ashamed to tell Gustav that I could not walk while holding the umbrella, and the rain was now too heavy for me to do without it, so I took it from him and we walked on. He put his umbrella up also, and kept pace with me.
I desperately wanted to take his arm to steady myself. I could see it in the corner of my eye, temptingly solid and reassuring, bent in a crook like a purpose-built handle. I even reached out my fingers and brushed them against the fabric of his sleeve, but could not bring myself to grasp it and lean on him.
Instead I concentrated on my feet. Since my illness I had not been much among company and as a consequence I had lost the ability to easily control my gait and posture in the way that I could when I practised it daily. I concentrated on balancing my weight and strained to make an even rhythm of my footfalls.
I tapped my forefinger against my thigh as I walked to help me keep my steps to an even time and counted the number of steps that I could match to this rhythm. I only managed six on the first try before I started to lurch from one side to the other and throw my weight forward from my hip. I concentrated and the wet cobblestones flashed past under my shoes, and this time I made it to eleven.
Gustav gave a tug on my arm and I saw that we had arrived. I stood there dumbly, still counting in my head. Theodor must have been keeping watch for us as he rushed out with his hand extended to shake the hand of ‘Franz’. I watched Theodor’s face closely for any sign that he had noticed the difference between the two men, but his expression did not seem to flicker when he saw Gustav. In fact, he was beaming, his face pink and satisfied. He greeted me with only a brief nod and then ignored me. He drew Gustav inside and I followed.
The little private room of the Hotel Europa was much brighter than it had looked from outside, and it was hot and full of people. I looked around for Franz, in case he was somewhere there in the crowd, but I did not see him. Theodor had clasped Gustav’s arm and was propelling him inside. They were set upon by a loudly talking crowd, some of whom were holding copies of the book. They gathered around Gustav in a little knot and swept him and Theodor away to the other side of the room.
I was left alone, standing exposed in an empty space by the door. I tried not to notice the looks that strangers in the crowd were giving me, or the fact that Felix and Kurt, who were standing by the window, seemed to be ignoring me. In the light of the room I saw that my trouser leg and the sleeve of my jacket were streaked with mud from my fall, and I retreated back to the entrance hall to try to remove it with my handkerchief.