if.thespywholovedme-第11部分
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Only two weeks later we were lovers。 It was somehow inevitable。 I had half known it would be； and I did nothing to dodge my fate。 I was not in love with him； and yet we had grown so close in so many other ways that the next step of sleeping together was bound； inexorably； to follow。 The details were really quite dull。 The occasional friendly kiss on the cheek； as if to a sister； came by degrees closer to my mouth and one day was on it。 There was a pause in the campaign while I came to take this kind of kiss for granted； then came the soft assault on my breasts and then on my body； all so pleasurable； so calm； so lacking in drama； and then； one evening in my sitting…room； the slow stripping of my body 〃because I must see how beautiful you are；〃 the feeble； almost languorous protests； and then the scientific operation that had been prepared for Trude。 And how delicious it was； in the wonderful privacy of my own room！ How safe； how unhurried； how reassuring the precautions！ And how strong and gentle Kurt was； and； of all things to associate with love…making； how divinely polite！ A single flower after each time； the room tidied after each passionate ecstasy； studious correctness in the office and before other people； never a rough or even a dirty word…it was like a series of exquisite operations by a surgeon with the best bedside manners in the world。 Of course； it was all rather impersonal。 But I liked that。 It was sex without involvement or danger； a delicious heightening of the day's routine which each time left me sleek and glowing like a pampered cat。
I might have realized； or at any rate guessed； that； at least among amateur women as opposed to prostitutes； there is no physical love without emotional involvement…over a long period； that is。 Physical intimacy is halfway to love； and enslavement is much of the other half。 Admittedly my mind and much of my instincts didn't enter into our relationship。 They remained dormant； happily dormant。 But my days and my nights were so full of this man； I was so dependent on him for so much of the twenty…four hours； that it would have been almost inhuman not to have fallen into some sort of love with him。 I kept on telling myself that he was humorless； impersonal； un…funloving； wooden； and； finally； most excessively German； but that didn't alter the fact that I listened for his step on the stairs； worshiped the warmth and authority of his body； and was happy at all times to cook and mend and work for him。 I admitted to myself that I was being a vegetable； a docile Hausfrau； walking； in my mind； six paces behind him on the street like some native bearer； but I also had to admit that I was happy； contented； and carefree； and that I didn't really yearn for any other kind of life。 There were moments when I wanted to break out of the douce； ordered cycle of the days； shout and sing and generally create hell； but I told myself that these impulses were basically antisocial； unfeminine； chaotic； and psychologically unbalanced。 Kurt had made me understand these things。 For him； symmetry； the even tempo； the right thing in the right place； the calm voice； the measured opinion； love on Wednesdays and Saturdays （after a light dinner！） were the way to happiness and away from what he described as 〃The Anarchic Syndrome〃…i。e。； smoking and drinking； phenobarbital； jazz； promiscuous sleeping…about； fast cars； slimming； Negroes and their new republics； homosexuality； the abolition of the death penalty； and a host of other deviations from what he described as Naturmenschlichkeit； or； in more words but shorter ones； a way of life more like the ants and the bees。 Well； that was all right with me。 I had been brought up to the simple life and I was very happy to be back in it after my brief taste of the rackety round of Chelsea pubs and gimcrack journalism； not to mention my drama…fraught affair with Derek； and I did quietly fall into some sort of love with Kurt。
And then； inevitably； it happened。
Soon after we started making regular love； Kurt had steered me toward a reliable woman doctor who gave me a homely lecture about contraception and fixed me up。 But she warned that even these precautions could go wrong。 And they did。 At first； hoping for the best； I said nothing to Kurt； but then； from many motives…not wanting to carry the secret alone； the faint hope that he might be pleased and ask me to marry him； and a genuine fear about my condition…I told him。 I had no idea what his reaction might be； but of course I expected tenderness； sympathy； and at least a show of love。 We were standing by the door of my bedroom； preparatory to saying good night。 I hadn't a stitch of clothes on； while he was fully dressed。 When 1 had finished telling him； he quietly disengaged my arms from round his neck； looked my body up and down with what I can only call a mixture of anger and contempt； and reached for the door handle。 Then he looked me coldly in the eyes； said very softly； 〃So？〃 and walked out of the room and shut the door quietly behind him。
。 I went and sat down on the edge of my bed and stared at the wall。 What had I done？ What had I said wrong？ What did Kurt's behavior mean？ Then； weak with foreboding； I got into bed and cried myself to sleep。
I was right to cry。 The next morning； when I called for him downstairs for our usual walk to the office； he had already gone out。 When I got to the office； the municating door with mine was closed； and when； after a quarter of an hour or so； he opened the door and said we must have a talk； his face was icily cold。 I went into his office and sat down with the desk between us： an employee being interviewed by the boss…being sacked； as it turned out。
The burden of his speech； delivered in matter…of…fact； impersonal tones； was this。 In a radely liaison such as we had enjoyed； and it had indeed been most enjoyable； it was essential that matters should run smoothly； in an orderly fashion。 We had been （yes； 〃had been〃） good friends； but I would agree that there had never been any talk of marriage； of anything more permanent than a satisfactory understanding between rades （that word again！）。 It had indeed been a most pleasant relationship； but now； through the fault of one of the partners （me alone； I suppose！）； this had happened； and now a radical solution must be found for a problem that contained elements of embarrassment and even of danger for our life…paths。 Marriage…alas； for he had an excellent opinion of my qualities and above all of my physical beauty…was out of the question。 Apart from other considerations； he had inherited strong views about mixed blood （Heil Hitler！） and when he married； it would be into the Teutonic strain。 Accordingly； and with sincere regret； he had e to certain decisions。 The most important was that I must have an immediate operation。 Three months was already a dangerous delay。 This would be a simple matter。 I would fly to Zürich and stay at one of the hotels near the Hauptbahnhof。 Any taxi driver would take me there from the airport。 I would ask the concierge for the name of the hotel doctor…there were excellent doctors in Zürich… and I would consult him。 He would understand the situation。 All Swiss doctors did。 He would suggest that my blood pressure was too high or too low； or that my nerves were not in a fit state to support the strain of childbirth。 He would speak to a gynecologist…there were superb gynecologists in Zürich…and I would visit this man； who would confirm what the doctor had said and sign a paper to that effect。 The gynecologist would make a reservation at a clinic； and the whole matter would be solved inside a week。 There would be plete discretion。 The procedure was perfectly legal in Switzerland； and I would not even have to show my passport。 I could give any name I chose…a married name； naturally。 The cost would； however； be high。 Perhaps as much as one hundred； or even one hundred and fifty pounds。 That also he had seen to。 He reached into the drawer of his desk； took out an envelope； and slid it across the table。 It would be reasonable； after nearly two years' excellent service； for me to receive one month's salary in lieu of notice。 That was one hundred and twenty pounds。 Out of his own pocket he had taken the libe
