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the rabbit home with the feeling that she was nearly at her goal； the place where she wanted to be and would never forsake。
Wandering the streets of Prague； she had no trouble finding her house； the house where she had lived with Mama and Papa as a small girl。 But Mama and Papa were gone。 She was greeted by two old people she had never seen before； but whom she knew to be her great…grandfather and great…grandmother。 They both had faces as wrinkled as the bark of a tree； and Tereza was happy she would be living with them。 But for now； she wanted to be alone with her animal。 She immediately found the room she had been given at the age of five； when her parents decided she deserved her own living space。
It had a bed； a table； and a chair。 The table had a lamp on it； a lamp that had never stopped burning in anticipation of her return； and on the lamp perched a butterfly with two large eyes painted on its widespread wings。 Tereza knew she was at her goal。 She lay down on the bed and pressed the rabbit to her face。
7
He was sitting at the desk where he usually read his books； an open envelope with a letter in it lying in front of him。 From time to time I get letters I haven't told you about； he said to Tereza。 They're from my son。 I've tried to keep his life and mine completely separate； and look how fate is getting even with me。 A few years ago he was expelled from the university。 Now he drives a tractor in a village。 Our lives may be separate； but they run in the same direction； like parallel lines。
Why didn't you ever tell me about the letters？ Tereza asked； with a feeling of great relief。
I don't know。 It was too unpleasant； I suppose。 Does he write often？ Now and then。 What about？ Himself。 And is it interesting？
Yes； it is。 You remember that his mother was an ardent Communist。 Well； he broke with her long ago。 Then he took up with people who had trouble like ours； and got involved in political activities with them。 Some of them are in prison now。 But he's broken with them； too。 In his letters he calls them 'eternal revolutionaries。'
Does that mean he's made his peace with the regime？ No； not in the least。 He believes in God and thinks that that's the key。 He says we should all live our daily lives according to the dictates of religion and pay no heed to the regime； completely ignore it。 If we believe in God； he claims； we can take any situation and； by means of our own behavior； transform it into what he calls 'the kingdom of God on earth。' He tells me that the Church is the only voluntary association in ourcountry which eludes the control of the state。 I wonder whether he's joined the Church because it helps him to oppose the regime or because he really believes in God。 Why don't you ask him？
I used to admire believers； Tomas continued。 I thought they had an odd transcendental way of perceiving things which was closed to me。 Like clairvoyants； you might say。 But my son's experience proves that faith is actually quite a simple matter。 He was down and out； the Catholics took him in； and before he knew it； he had faith。 So it was gratitude that decided the issue； most likely。 Human decisions are terribly simple。 Haven't you ever answered his letters？ He never gives a return address； he said； though the postmark indicates the name of the district。 I could just send a letter to the local collective farm。
Tereza was ashamed of having been suspicious of Tomas； and hoped to expiate her guilt with a rush of benevolence towards his son。 Then why not drop him a line； invite him to come and see us？
He looks like me； said Tomas。 When he talks； his upper lip curls just like mine。 The thought of watching my own lips go on about the kingdom of God—it seems too strange。 Tereza burst out laughing。 Tomas laughed with her。
Don't be such a child； Tomas！ said Tereza。 It's ancient history； after all； you and your first wife。 What's it to him？ What's he got to do with it？ Why hurt the boy just because you had bad taste when you were young？
Frankly； I have stage fright at the thought of meeting him。 That's the main reason I haven't done anything about it。 I don't know what's made me so headstrong and kept me from seeing him。 Sometimes you make up your mind about something without knowing why； and your decision persists by the power of inertia。 Every year it gets harder to change。
Invite him； she said。
That afternoon she was on her way back from the cow sheds when she heard voices from the road。 Coming closer； she saw Tomas's pickup。 Tomas was bent over； changing a tire； while some of the men stood about looking on and waiting for him to finish。
She could not tear her eyes away from him： he looked like an old man。 His hair had gone gray； and his lack of coordination was not that of a surgeon turned driver but of a man no longer young。
She recalled a recent talk with the chairman of the collective farm。 He had told her that Tomas's pickup was in miserable condition。 He said it as a joke； not a complaint； but she could tell he was concerned。 Tomas knows the insides of the body better than the insides of an engine； he said with a laugh。 He then confessed that he had made several visits to the authorities to request permission for Tomas to resume his medical practice； if only locally。 He had learned that the police would never grant it。
She had stepped behind a tree trunk so that none of the men by the pickup could see her。 Standing there observing him； she suffered a bout of self…recrimination： It was her fault that he had come back to Prague from Zurich； her fault that he had left Prague； and even here she could not leave him in peace； torturing him with her secret suspicions while Karenin lay dying。
She had always secretly reproached him for not loving her enough。 Her own love she considered above reproach； while his seemed mere condescension。
Now she saw that she had been unfair： If she had really loved Tomas with a great love； she would have stuck it out with him abroad！ Tomas had been happy there； a new life was opening for him！ And she had left him！ True； at the time she had convinced herself she was being magnanimous； giving him his freedom。 But hadn't her magnanimity been merely an excuse？ She knew all along that he would come home to her！ She had summoned him farther and farther down after her like the nymphs who lured unsuspecting villagers to the marshes and left them there to drown。 She had taken advantage of a night of stomach cramps to inveigle him into moving to the country！ How cunning she could be！ She had summoned him to follow her as if wishing to test him again and again； to test his love for her； she had summoned him persistently； and here he was； tired and gray； with stiffened fingers that would never again be capable of holding a scalpel。
Now they were in a place that led nowhere。 Where could they go from here？ They would never be allowed abroad。 They would never find a way back to Prague： no one would give them work。 They didn't even have a reason to move to another village。
Good God； had they had to cover all that distance just to make her believe he loved her？
At last Tomas succeeded in getting the tire back on。 He climbed in behind the wheel； the men jumped in the back； and the engine roared。
She w