source. He was perhaps somewhat confused by the unpleasant quality of certain expres sions. Completely harmless words struck him as being shot through with horrible odors, as if they pointed for him to a sad and repugnant future. The phrases that followed were no better; something unassimilable had insinuated itself into the conversation and had prevented Thomas from appreciating all that was being said. As for the conclusion, he attached no importance to it in itself; it was there like the limit ofwhat he could absorb, and the conversation might have ended on a more optimistic note without, however, bringing him any relief. For a few moments he stopped speaking to his companion. He turned away very slightly, and his gaze, which until then had been riveted on his face, floated about and stared into the dis tance. "That old portrait," he said to himself. Once he felt attracted by the portrait again, he no longer wanted to turn away. Who was it? He raised his hand, but the image became hazy and began to blur. Everything was much darker. The lamps seemed to be dying out. If the larger pieces of furniture were still visible, the small details that had so much importance began to disappear. With his free hand, Thomas struck his companion. "Why don't you keep the lamps burning?" he said angrily. The blow was not violent, it was meant to get his attention, not to hurt him. But the young man was beside himself. His face took on a dumbfounded expression. "How you mistreat me! " he answered, his voice barely audible. "But all is not yet settled between us. If my company displeases you and makes you regret the burdens it imposes, you can call the guardian, and perhaps he will decide to separate you from me." "I'll do without the guardian," replied Thomas. "I have no intention of begging him or anyone else. But," he added, "you are no doubt less free than I am." 23
"Everyone here is free," retorted the young man. These replies made Thomas ill at ease. There was something pedantic in this way of understanding things. At one moment the young man seemed overwhelmed at being a captive, then he displayed great pride and de rived his glory precisely from what had dragged him down. Despite his disgust, Thomas would have liked to satisfy his hunger for these words. They seemed to him so distant, so ungraspable; they were so foreign to any and every truth and at the same time so imperious. What was he doing here anyway? He thought again of the portrait and said to himself that the moment had come to lose heart. The light had gone out. The silence was impenetrable. And he was more alone than if he had never had a compan ion. He forced himself out of the embrace that had held him prisoner up to now and stretched out on the bed again. Another ring now encircled his left ankle, a finely wrought ring that was attached by a larger one to the young man's leg. Because of this hindrance his position was still uncom fortable, but he hardly noticed. He listened impatiently as his companion tried to revive the conversation by giving a report on the house. Should he pay any attention? At other times he would not have missed a word. But his experience had taught him already that the inhabitants of the build ing did not always tell the truth and that even when they were not lying, their words were rarely of any use. Besides, he could not have understood these words; they were spoken in a tone that stripped them of all sense; no meaning could correspond to an expression of such great sadness; for them to carry so much despair, they had to be deprived completely of the unburdened clarity contained in an intelligible word. What painful words! What a speech of endless distress! Thomas listened for a moment to the word bedroom and the word reason, then he struck his companion to make him shut up. "What a bunch of chatter!" he said. "This has gone on long enough." He threw a blanket over his head and was finally able to rest. The next morning when he awoke from a
"Everyone here is free," retorted the young man. These replies made Thomas ill at ease. There was something pedantic in this way of understanding things. At one moment the young man seemed overwhelmed at being a captive, then he displayed great pride and de rived his glory precisely from what had dragged him down. Despite his disgust, Thomas would have liked to satisfy his hunger for these words. They seemed to him so distant, so ungraspable; they were so foreign to any and every truth and at the same time so imperious. What was he doing here anyway? He thought again of the portrait and said to himself that the moment had come to lose heart. The light had gone out. The silence was impenetrable. And he was more alone than if he had never had a compan ion. He forced himself out of the embrace that had held him prisoner up to now and stretched out on the bed again. Another ring now encircled his left ankle, a finely wrought ring that was attached by a larger one to the young man's leg. Because of this hindrance his position was still uncom fortable, but he hardly noticed. He listened impatiently as his companion tried to revive the conversation by giving a report on the house. Should he pay any attention? At other times he would not have missed a word. But his experience had taught him already that the inhabitants of the build ing did not always tell the truth and that even when they were not lying, their words were rarely of any use. Besides, he could not have understood these words; they were spoken in a tone that stripped them of all sense; no meaning could correspond to an expression of such great sadness; for them to carry so much despair, they had to be deprived completely of the unburdened clarity contained in an intelligible word. What painful words! What a speech of endless distress! Thomas listened for a moment to the word bedroom and the word reason, then he struck his companion to make him shut up. "What a bunch of chatter!" he said. "This has gone on long enough." He threw a blanket over his head and was finally able to rest. The next morning when he awoke from a
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