Free The Left-Handed Woman by Peter Handke Page B

energetically and looked at the publisher, who raised his arms and said, “I haven’t expressed any disagreement.”
    The salesgirl hummed along with the music; then she lay down on the floor and stretched her legs.
    The chauffeur took out a memo pad and started sketching them all.
    Franziska began to open her mouth, but the chauffeur
said, “Kindly don’t move.” Franziska closed her mouth again.
    They were all silent; they drank; then more silence.
    Suddenly they all laughed at once.
    Bruno said to the actor, “Do you realize that you’re sitting in my place?”
    The actor stood up and was going to take another chair. The sketching chauffeur said severely, “Stay where you are!”
    As the actor was sitting down again, Bruno pulled the chair out from under him and he fell on his back.
    He got up slowly and took a kick at Bruno.
    The two of them rolled on the floor; the chauffeur tried to separate them.
    The salesgirl put her glasses on.
    Franziska exchanged glances with the publisher, who launched into the story of how he had been shipwrecked during the war.
    The woman looked out of the window; the crowns of the trees in the garden were being buffeted to and fro.
    The chauffeur came back from the car with a first-aid kit.
    He joined the hands of Bruno and the actor, stepped back, told them to stay in that exact position, and sketched. They made faces, and he cried out, “Don’t laugh!”
    Bruno and the actor went to the bathroom and washed their faces together.

    The salesgirl and Franziska came in and dabbed at them with towels.
    The chauffeur showed his finished sketch around.
    The woman and Bruno stood on the terrace. After a while Bruno asked, “Have you decided what you’re going to do with yourself?”
    The woman answered, “No. For a moment I saw my future clearly and it chilled me to the bone.”
    They stood looking down at the garages; plastic bags were skittering over the pavement. The elderly woman was walking down the street without her dog, a long evening dress showing under her coat. She waved at them with both arms, as if she knew everything, and the two of them waved back.
    The woman asked if he had to go to the office next day.
    Bruno: “Don’t talk about it now.”
    Arm in arm, they stepped through the terrace door into the living room. The chauffeur, who was drinking, pointed at them and cried out, “By God, love still exists!”
    The salesgirl slapped his outstretched finger and said, “The child is sleeping.”
    The chauffeur repeated his remark more softly.
    The publisher, who was leaning against Franziska’s chair, nodded and dozed off. Franziska stood up gingerly, took the chauffeur by the hand and danced with him, cheek to cheek.
    The woman was standing at the window. The actor came over to her.

    They both looked out; the stormy sky glittered with stars and was reflected in the space behind the stars. After a time he said, “There are some galaxies so distant that their light is weaker than the mere background glow of the night sky. I would like to be somewhere else with you now.”
    The woman answered instantly, “Please don’t put me in any of your plans.”
    The actor looked at her until she looked back at him. Suddenly she said, “Once when I was in the hospital I saw an old, sick, desperately sad woman caressing the nurse who was standing by her bed—but only her thumbnail. Over and over again, only her thumbnail.”
    They went on looking at each other.
    Finally the actor said, “While we were looking at each other a moment ago, I saw the difficulties that have beset my life up to now as barriers that threatened my devotion to you, one barrier after another, and at the same time, as I continued to look at you, I felt that the difficulties were vanishing, one after another, until only you remained. I love you now. I love you.”
    Bruno sat motionless, just