PETER HANDKE
601
And how precariously she had positioned all her things, big and
small, not only in her bathroom, but also in her part of the kitchen: the
seemingly rigid order she'd left behind could be thrown into complete
confusion if some little object were dislodged in passing. Either some–
thing was hanging by a single thread, or it was perched on a ledge, usu–
ally high up, or this group of crystal balls was poised, in what looked at
first like a miracle, on a slanting surface-but not another step!-or, like
this open salt dish, it would tip at the slightest push, despite the appar–
ently level surface under it, because one of its feet was broken, or, like
this bundle of pencils, would break without the slightest pressure,
because the points were so sharp. And what if this happened to be the
very sign he was looking for?
Back in his own part of the house, he turned his bed pillow over;
nothing. Strange contrast between the two pillows: one quite creased,
the other one, next to it, completely untouched and smooth, the ironing
folds just as they had been for years, as if in a glass case, a bed in a cas–
tle, unoccupied yet comfortable, waiting for someone
to
return .
HIS
DAUGHTER HAD
phoned from the island where she was on holiday;
she planned
to
stay a while longer; and then his wife, too: She had
arrived safely, though she didn't say where.
He played a game of chess with himself, letting "the other person"
win. Through the open casements the fast-flowing river could be heard,
invisible behind the dike, along with the chirping of crickets, actually
more a delicate nonstop trilling from the dike, the underbrush, holes in
the ground-that most summery of sounds. A veil shrouded the moon.
"What do you want?" one of the players said to the other. "Is there
anything at all you still want?" "Yes, I want the continuation. I'm quite
eager to see what happens next."
"With what? With whom?"
"With me. With us. With my story. With our story. But we're going
to have to do our part. And by that I don't necessarily mean deep-sea
diving or scaling the Himalayas."
"And how do you picture such a continuation, for instance?"
"Well, someone might jump in now through the open window and
ask for help. Or hold a knife to my throat. Or tomorrow morning I
might find a snakeskin next to me in the bed. No, it would have to be
more than just a skin, and something more terrible than just a snake."
"And why does your voice sound so choked up?"
