Glorious Nemesis Read online

  Ladislav Klíma

  GLORIOUS NEMESIS

  Translated from the Czech by Marek Tomin

  Twisted Spoon Press

  Prague

  This edition copyright © 2011 by Twisted Spoon Press

  English translation copyright © 2011 by Marek Tomin, Twisted Spoon Press

  Illustration copyright © 2011 by Pavel Růt

  All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be used or reproduced in any form, except in the context of reviews, without written permission from the Publisher.

  Glorious Nemesis was originally published in Czech as Slavná Nemesis in 1932 by Sfinx, B. Janda, Prague, in the volume Slavná Nemesis a jiné příběhy. The version used for this translation comes from the collection Vteřiny věčnosti, edited by Josef Zumr (Prague: Odeon, 1967).

  Published in 2011 by

  Twisted Spoon Press

  P.O. Box 21 – Preslova 12

  150 21 Prague 5, Czech Republic

  www.twistedspoon.com

  ISBN 978-80-86264-39-4 (illustrated hardcover)

  ISBN 978-80-86264-74-5 (e-book)

  This translation was made possible by a grant from the Ministry of Culture of the Czech Republic.

  CONTENTS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  About the Author

  About the Translator

  1

  When Sider travelled through the Alpine town of Cortona for the first time, the majestic landscape made such a strong and peculiar impression on him that he got off the train at the next stop and went back. The three days he then spent there were the most enchanting of his entire life. A poetic, golden shimmer such as he had never known before constantly suffused his soul; ever more mysterious, monumental sensations surged from his soul against his will, and though indistinct, it was just this lack of clarity that made them so immensely exhilarating. He often felt that these presentiments were about to reveal their essence – but at that very moment they always took flight with lightning speed to unattainable distances. The entire world intoxicated him, existence itself was his lover, songs erupted from his inner being, and at night he was embraced by magical dreams ... Yet there was something darkly and powerfully horrifying about it all; in the deepest depths he was certain the most terrible abyss gaped beneath all this radiance.

  Was all this being drawn out of him by the exterior surroundings? He was unable to come up with an answer. Although the views of the vast, glacier-lit mountains on all sides, the footpaths snaking over them, and of the town’s diverse houses sparked within him miraculous flashes of monstrous sentiments, he always had to ask: Is this not after all my inner being overflowing with light that is casting its rays onto these objects so that their reflections, as if alien gifts, might be reabsorbed into the maternal All-Womb? This entire exterior world seemed so mystically familiar to him – yet again he had to ask himself: Do the depths of the soul not know everything, everything? Is there anything that has for all eternity not been the property of the soul? How else could it even see and hear? Isn’t all seeing merely the flight back to the soul of all the mysterious birds that have ever left the eternal nest?

  He left that bewitching place only because circumstance forced him to ... , and as soon as it had disappeared from his eyes, so did the mysterious shimmer at once vanish from his soul, giving way to a singular despondency and revulsion. But even now he had to pose himself the question: Isn’t it just coincidence that at this very moment I am experiencing an inevitable mental drain? Perhaps some form of deep autosuggestion is also at work, though there’s nothing supernatural, nothing miraculous about what has so enticed me. –

  He made a firm resolution to take up permanent residence in Cortona as soon as the possibility arose. –

  After a year dominated by dull yet delightful recollections of those three days, he was able to make good on his decision. –

  It was May, and Sider was twenty-eight years old. He had a delicate, enigmatic, handsome, manly face, beneath whose strength writhed something fractured, profoundly ominous, which to a perceptive soul spoke of predestination to a terrible fate. He was well off and entirely independent. –

  2

  When he arrived in Cortona, jaded by the long journey but also excited by expectation, the sky was gloomy, the mountains almost invisible.

  Later he would blame these circumstances for the fact that there was no hint his mood from the previous year might return, and during the days that followed, his frame of mind was such that it was impossible to imagine anything worse. Disappointment, the greyest disgust. Such often happens when something is anticipated with inflated expectations; but Sider felt that the extent of his disillusionment was in no way proportional to his hopes, even though they had been considerable ...

  The whole of May was abominable: clouds, rain, snow, windstorms, mud, cold, virtually unabated. And when the sun did come out, it was as if it were only for its light to enhance the ugliness of the countryside. How dead everything was, how spiritless the mountains! They grimaced just like the lifeless mementos of a dead life, like reproaches for something irretrievably lost: Sider felt a growing nausea, a kind of fear crept into his soul and seemed to be rapidly setting down permanent roots.

  Two things in particular continued to infuse him with mystical dread. Stag’s Head, a mountain looming directly over the town – 2500 metres above it, 3500 metres above sea level – from whose broad crown protruded several thin, cone-shaped rock massifs like small horns. And an ancient, almost black two-floor cottage at the end of a lane that ran into a narrow ravine, a steep cliff poised directly above it – –

  Otherwise, his life flowed by, tediously. He met with no one, he understood very little of the local language. The place was still deserted, the summer visitors yet to arrive, but one thing still managed to vividly colour the greyness of his days.

  His fantasies had always nurtured the striking image of a woman. Indistinct, flickering, and yet powerful, promising him a peculiar lucidity of mind and warming his soul with furtive delights. Often appearing in his dreams, the images of Her were contradictory, though after waking he would never doubt it had been – Her. And now he had dreamt that he’d suddenly glimpsed Her high up on Stag’s Head, a dream so lucid that even after waking in the morning he momentarily had the impression She was standing before him, so intense the phantasm and the onrush of mystical forebodings that his soul shuddered in its innermost depths. But in the blink of an eye he was no longer able to conjure up the vision again in his soul.

  •

  The first day of June was rainier than any before. Sider decided to leave Cortona forever on the following day. In the early evening, having made everything ready for his departure, he went out for a walk in the forest that lined the foot of Stag’s Head just beyond the small town.

  Half an hour later he was on his way back in a foul mood, his clothes and boots soaked through. The sky, however, was finally beginning to turn blue. The mountains to the east were illuminated by a yellow setting sun. He was walking through a rocky ravine, sparsely covered with trees and bushes. The place was wild and romantic and created the illusion of being far, far away from the places inhabited by people, though paradoxically he could hear dogs barking, cocks crowing, and children shouting.

  He was coming to a bend in the path when – suddenly – two women emerged, approaching him. Absorbed in thought, he didn’t raise his head until they were three paces away. He first looked at the woman farthest from him – dressed in red – and his body gave a jolt.

  She was about twenty-five, beautiful, pale, and had an interesting face that harboured a noticeable restlessness – from a distance she reminded h
im of his vision. Though overall she was not very similar to Her, she still mysteriously evoked his dream image so powerfully that he unwittingly came to a halt.

  That’s when his eyes fell upon the other woman, wearing a cerulean blue dress, just as his elbow nearly brushed hers on the narrow path. And ... – at once he staggered, his eyes went dim, he felt as if a hammer had struck his head. Only his embarrassment before the women prevented him from collapsing. It seemed to him that the woman in red made a movement to support him; he frowned and hurried on unsteadily. He did not turn round, but felt certain that they had stopped and were standing there observing him.

  He finally recovered his wits only when he reached the garden of a restaurant. “After them!” was the thought that came to him. He looked round; he could not see them. He remained standing there for some time, uncertain of what to do. Then he took a seat in the garden and waited late into the night, hoping they would come back that way. They did not.

  In all his life his soul had never felt so strange, so blissful, so horrified. The woman in blue was entirely, entirely the epitome of his dream vision, as if his phantasm had metamorphosed into a hallucination – –

  •

  He gave no thought to leaving. Moreover, the sky had cleared up for good and the beauty of spring finally erupted with full force. Sider’s soul also brightened – and was revisited by some of the previous year’s enchanting radiance. Once again, the terrible mountains and hospitable forests spoke to his soul in their mysterious dark tongue. For Sider was now – in love ... – But what was the strange dread that, like a bass line, underscored the song in his soul? ... Yet nothing in music save the sombre beating of a drum has such a monumental effect as the powerful black tones of a bass, nothing in the world is more beautiful than horror.

  He spent his entire days crisscrossing the town and its surroundings, searching for his women. He did not find them. Nor was he able to discover anything about them. A week had passed since that wet, yellow-hued dusk, and Sider said to himself painfully: They were obviously foreigners, only passing through Cortona, – I’ll never set eyes on them again!

  As if everything a human sees, everything desired, everything thought must not necessarily become manifest and visualized and realized over and over, as if the force animating all things were not desire and yearning and Will ...

  •

  It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, 8 June. Sider was sitting in the garden of the restaurant that backed onto the forest. A band was playing to entertain the numerous guests – many summer visitors had gathered during the week. The music had lulled Sider into a deep dreaming ...

  Suddenly he caught sight of both his acquaintances entering the garden from the forest. His shock was overwhelming, frightful, abysmal. He felt as though even the music had been affected, taken aback, reduced in volume by half, as if a kind of icy breath had drifted over all things and people nearby.

  The women came closer. He was unable to find the strength to look at them. They sat down at a table about twelve paces away.

  He was regaining his senses. The music radiantly surged once more to the heights, and his eyes rested on their faces.

  Their resemblance to one another, though remote, was uncanny. Something palpitating and delicate, demonically ethereal veiled both their pallid visages, something he had not seen in a woman’s face before. But from the face of the younger woman in blue it glared, thundered incomparably more powerfully ... She was about twenty years old, tall, slim. Pretty? Something too chilling emanated from her too pale, thin, yet entirely classically formed features, predatory and yet affectionate, horrifying in their spectral ghastliness and ferocity and also – an inhuman, a superhuman, tenderness. Perhaps she was more than pretty – in other words, to the ordinary eye she was not beautiful – every magnificent beauty is darkened by her own excessive splendour.

  Yet none of the marvellous peculiarities of her face could explain the devastating and eerie impression she imparted – – –

  They did not look at him and seemed not to be paying attention to anything else around them, confusion, fear even, so apparent in the face of the lady in red. They conversed very little and quietly; even when the music died down, Sider could not hear their voices.

  Finally, the older woman’s eyes regarded him. She said something to her companion. Now their conversation became livelier ... and then the younger of the two looked intently at Sider for a long time, for an almost indecent length of time. He was the first to avert his eyes, as they had grown dim and his head had started to spin. After a while he raised them again – Her eyes were still fixed on him, and the look was so ghastly it was as though they were made of glass. He kept hold of himself. “This calls for a staring match!” he said to himself and did not look away. After a good two minutes She lowered her eyes and slowly concealed Her face with the palm of Her hand – –

  He exhaled deeply; exquisite pleasure flooded his soul. “She has some feelings for me, that is certain! ... But clearly She is very eccentric, to the highest degree, no doubt. Maniacal even? Ugh! On what am I basing this judgement except the fact that She stared at me for an unusually long time? Perhaps Her eyes really are made of glass? Ugh! Her behaviour generally does not indicate blindness, though surely this enigmatic creature had some purpose in mind when She glared at me. If She was trying to intoxicate me, She succeeded – but don’t forget, lassie, that besides my senses, which You have hypnotised, I also have a will, and it is forever vigilant.”

  He had been entirely unaware that something was happening around them, that all the patrons had become somehow subdued, alarmed, feverishly talking among themselves, albeit in hushed tones, forming small huddles at each table, that a crowd had gathered at the entrance to the garden. Everyone’s eyes were directed only at the table where the strange ladies were sitting.

  The music started up again, yet so haltingly and out of tune it was as if the musicians were distracted. The women were no longer conversing. Confusion and fear now increasingly marked the face of the elder of the two. She grew paler, quivering noticeably, constantly looking around. Only then did Sider find the public’s behaviour conspicuous ...

  That’s when the lady in blue stood up, uttered several words to Her companion with a smile, bowed politely and proudly, and walked away quickly in the direction of the forest. Reaching the gate, She turned around and again fixed Her gaze on Sider, now for just a moment, but how telling! As if it were acknowledging him, commanding, alluring and promising, caressing, threatening. –

  “What should I do?” Sider said to himself. “Run after Her, introduce myself to Her? I absolutely lack the courage for that now. But what if I don’t see Her again? Nonsense! She won’t leave, after all I mean something to Her ... Or maybe I should –?”

  He watched as She walked out the garden – and how the crowd by the gate parted almost too rapidly before Her ... “Ah, now I know! She is a lady of very high standing, a duchess perhaps? a princess? or maybe even a sovereign? No, I cannot run after Her as if chasing a harlot ... For that matter, it’s always more shrewd for a man to be nonchalant towards a woman. She’ll come to me, She’ll turn up again somewhere where I will also happen to be – of this I feel quite certain.”

  For a long time his eyes were fixed on the forest thickets into which She had disappeared. Then it occurred to him: “Well, I can at least speak to the other lady; I get the impression she’s not too highbred. I’ll find out what I need from her.”

  He cheered up at once, but when he glanced around he could not see the other woman either.

  He was suddenly seized by a frightful, half-joyful, half-terrifying restlessness. He ran out of the garden. He noticed that everyone was now discussing something all the more passionately and loudly, but he was unable to understand any of what was being said.

  •

  Several days passed. He renewed his inquiries and learnt that the older woman had been staying at a hotel in Cortona for three weeks, having signed in as Mrs Errata
S., rentier – she was by all accounts a wealthy widow – and that on Monday she had suddenly departed, leaving her belongings behind in her room. He discovered nothing about her companion. Although many people had seen Her on Sunday in the company of Mrs S., what they said of Her was so oddly evasive and nebulous Sider did not know what to make of it.

  He spent his entire days scampering around on the surrounding mountains, consumed by a demonic desire. Then on 16 June he received a telegram that provided a categorical imperative for him to leave Cortona: his entire fortune was at risk.

  Though seething with rage, something told him it was a good idea to put an end to this adventure of his. He resolved to return to Cortona as soon as possible. He got everything ready for departure, which he’d set for the following day at nine in the morning.

  He got up at around eight, opened the shutters. It was a magnificent, resplendent day, already hot for that hour! As if refreshed by sleep, the mountains towered up towards the dark blue sky more powerfully than ever before. Stag’s Head was the nearest, the highest, the most beautiful. He had walked up it two days before, all the way to the glacier beneath its highest rocky horns, hoping foolishly to set eyes on Her there in reality as he had seen Her there in his dream. It was to no avail.

  He gazed at the mountain for a long time, bidding it farewell. He was just turning away his eyes when ... – he shuddered.

  At a height of about 900 metres, at the very point where the lower forest gave way to rocky ground, he spotted two dots, blue and red . . . Frantically he grabbed his field glasses. It was the women, slowly ascending.