How strange that I never thought of that before … yet it’s so simple. Yes, I may have been too hard on her. You know me—I don’t mean it like that. But I’ll go in and see her now … and of course she can go to the party, I only wanted to punish her for her defiance, her resistance and … well, I suppose for not trusting me. But you’re quite right, I don’t want you to think I can’t forgive … Irene, I wouldn’t like you, of all people, to think such a thing.”

He was looking at her, and she felt herself blushing under his gaze. Was he saying these things on purpose, or was it coincidence, a dangerous, insidious coincidence? She still felt so dreadfully undecided.

“Well, the sentence is quashed.” A certain cheerfulness seemed to come back into his voice. “Helene is free to go to the party, and I’ll tell her so myself. Are you satisfied with me now? Or is there anything else you want? You … you see … you see I’m in a magnanimous mood today … maybe because I’m glad to have seen an injustice in time. That always brings relief, Irene, always …”

She thought she understood what the emphasis in his words meant. Instinctively she moved closer to him, she already felt the words rising in her, and he too stepped forwards as if he was in haste to take from her whatever so obviously troubled her. Then she met his eyes, and saw in them an eager desire for her confession, for some part of herself, a burning impatience, and all at once everything she had been feeling collapsed. Her hand fell wearily to her side, and she turned away. It was useless, she felt, she would never be able to say the one thing that would set her free, the one thing that was burning inside her and consuming her peace of mind. She sensed a warning in the air, like thunder coming closer, but she knew she could not escape. And in the secret depths of her heart she longed, now, for what she had feared so long, the lightning flash of discovery that would come as a release.

 

Her wish was to be granted sooner than she guessed. The struggle had been going on for fourteen days now, and Irene felt she had exhausted her strength. It was four days since she had heard from the woman, and fear had lodged so deep in her body, was so much at one with her blood, that she started up abruptly whenever the doorbell rang so that she would be in time to intercept the next blackmail letter herself. There was impatience, almost even longing in her avid expectation, for with every payment she bought an evening of peace, a few hours with the children, a walk. For an evening, for a day she could breathe easily, go out into the street, visit friends. Although to be sure sleep, in its wisdom, would not let such a poor sort of comfort blind her deceitfully to certain knowledge of the danger always close at hand. Her sleep brought dreams of fear to consume her by night.

Once again, she had run to answer the door when the bell rang, even though she realised that her restless desire to get there ahead of the servants was bound to be noticed, and could easily arouse hostile suspicions. But while sober circumspection might put up little acts of resistance, it weakened when, at the sound of the telephone ringing, a step in the street behind her, or the summons of the doorbell her whole body was on the alert, as if it had felt the lash of a whip. And now the sound of the bell had brought her out of her room and running to the door again. She opened it only to find herself looking in surprise, for a moment, at a strange lady. Then, retreating in alarm, she recognised the hated face of the blackmailer, who was wearing a new outfit and an elegant hat.

“Why, if it ain’t you in person, Frau Wagner. I’m ever so glad. I got something important to say to you.” And without waiting for any answer from the terrified Irene, who was supporting herself with one trembling hand on the door handle, she marched in, put down her sunshade—a sunshade of a glaring, bright-red hue, obviously bought with the fruits of her blackmailing raids. She was moving with great assurance, as if she were in her own home, looking around with pleasure, as if with a sense of reassurance, at the handsome furnishings. She walked on, uninvited, to the door of the drawing room, which was half-open. “This way, right?” she asked with some derision, and when the alarmed Irene, still incapable of saying anything, tried to deter her, she added reassuringly: “We can get this settled good and quick if you’d like to see me out of here.”

Irene followed her without protest.