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The worst of it was that the letter was dated。 It was quite recent； written long after Tereza had moved in with Tomas。
So you've been rummaging in my letters！
She did not deny it。 Throw me out； then！
But he did not throw her out。 He could picture her pressed against the wall of Sabina's studio jabbing needles up under her nails。 He took her fingers between his hands and stroked them； brought them to his lips and kissed them； as if they still had drops of blood on them。
But from that time on； everything seemed to conspire against him。 Not a day went by without her learning something about his secret life。
At first he denied it all。 Then； when the evidence became too blatant； he argued that his polygamous way of life did not in the least run counter to his love for her。 He was inconsistent： first he disavowed his infidelities； then he tried to justify them。
Once he was saying good…bye after making a date with a woman on the phone； when from the next room came a strange sound like the chattering of teeth。By chance she had come home without his realizing it。 She was pouring something from a medicine bottle down her throat； and her hand shook so badly the glass bottle clicked against her teeth。
He pounced on her as if trying to save her from drowning。 The bottle fell to the floor； spotting the carpet with valerian drops。 She put up a good fight； and he had to keep her in a straitjacket…like hold for a quarter of an hour before he could calm her。
He knew he was in an unjustifiable situation； based as it was on complete inequality。
One evening； before she discovered his correspondence with Sabina； they had gone to a bar with some friends to celebrate Tereza's new job。 She had been promoted at the weekly from darkroom technician to staff photographer。 Because he had never been much for dancing； one of his younger colleagues took over。 They made a splendid couple on the dance floor； and Tomas found her more beautiful than ever。 He looked on in amazement at the split…second precision and deference with which Tereza anticipated her partner's will。 The dance seemed to him a declaration that her devotion； her ardent desire to satisfy his every whim； was not necessarily bound to his person； that if she hadn't met Tomas； she would have been ready to respond to the call of any other man she might have met instead。 He had no difficulty imagining Tereza and his young colleague as lovers。 And the ease with which he arrived at this fiction wounded him。 He realized that Tereza's body was perfectly thinkable coupled with any male body； and the thought put him in a foul mood。 Not until late that night； at home； did he admit to her he was jealous。
This absurd jealousy； grounded as it was in mere hypotheses； proved that he considered her fidelity an unconditional postulate of their relationship。 How then could he begrudge her her jealousy of his very real mistresses？
8
During the day； she tried （though with only partial success） to believe what Tomas told her and to be as cheerful as she had been before。 But her jealousy thus tamed by day burst forth all the more savagely in her dreams； each of which ended in a wail he could silence only by waking her。
Her dreams recurred like themes and variations or television series。 For example； she repeatedly dreamed of cats jumping at her face and digging their claws into her skin。 We need not look far for an interpretation： in Czech slang the word cat means a pretty woman。 Tereza saw herself threatened by women； all women。 All women were potential mistresses for Tomas； and she feared them all。
In another cycle she was being sent to her death。 Once； when he woke her as she screamed in terror in the dead of night； she told him about it。 I was at a large indoor swimming pool。 There were about twenty of us。 All women。 We were naked and had to march around the pool。 There was a basket hanging from the ceiling and a man standing in the basket。 The man wore a broad…brimmed hat shading his face； but I could see it was you。 You kept giving us orders。 Shouting at us。 We had to sing as we marched； sing and do kneebends。 If one of us did a bad kneebend； you would shoot her with a pistol and she would fall dead into the pool。 Which made everybody laugh and sing even louder。 You never took your eyes off us； and the minute we did something wrong； you would shoot。 The pool was full of corpses floating just below the surface。 And I knew I lacked the strength to do the next kneebend and you were going to shoot me！
In a third cycle she was dead。
bying in a hearse as big as a furniture van； she was surrounded by dead women。 There were so many of them that the back door would not close and several legs dangled out。
But I'm not dead！ Tereza cried。 I can still feel！
So can we； the corpses laughed。
They laughed the same laugh as the live women who used to tell her cheerfully it was perfectly normal that one day she would have bad teeth； faulty ovaries； and wrinkles； because they all had bad teeth； faulty ovaries； and wrinkles。 Laughing the same laugh； they told her that she was dead and it was perfectly all right！
Suddenly she felt a need to urinate。 You see； she cried。 I need to pee。 That's proof positive I'm not dead！
But they only laughed again。 Needing to pee is perfectly normal！ they said。 You'll go on feeling that kind of thing for a long time yet。 Like a person who has an arm cut off and keeps feeling it's there。 We may not have a drop of pee left in us； but we keep needing to pee。
Tereza huddled against Tomas in bed。 And the way they talked to me！ Like old friends； people who'd known me forever。 I was appalled at the thought of having to stay with them forever。
9
All languages that derive from Latin form the word compassion by combining the prefix meaning with （corn…） and the root meaning suffering （Late Latin； passio）。 In other languages—Czech； Polish； German； and Swedish； for instance— this word is translated by a noun formed of an equivalent prefix combined with the word that means feeling （Czech； sou…cit； Polish； wspol…czucie； German； Mit…gefuhl； Swedish； med…kansia）。
In languages that derive from Latin； compassion means： we cannot look on coolly as others suffer； or； we sympathize with those who suffer。 Another word with approximately the same meaning； pity （French； pitie； Italian； pieta； etc。）； connotes a certain condescension towards the sufferer。 To take pity on a woman means that we are better off than she； that we stoop to her level； lower ourselves。
That is why the word compassion generally inspires suspicion； it designates what is considered an inferior； second…rate sentiment that has little to do with love。 To love someone out of compassion means not really to love。
In languages that form the word compassion not from the root suffering but from the root feeling； the word is used in approximately the same way； but to contend that it designates a bad or inferior sentiment is difficult。 The secret strength of its etymology floods the word with another light and gives it a broader meaning： to have compassion （co…feeling） means not only to be able to live with the other's misfortune but also to feel with him any emotion—joy； anxiety； happiness； pain。 This kind of compassion （in the sens