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Twisting and turning beside the slumbering Tereza； he recalled something she had told him a long time before in the course of an insignificant conversation。 They had been talking about his friend Z。 when she announced； If I hadn't met you； I'd certainly have fallen in love with him。
Even then； her words had left Tomas in a strange state of melancholy； and now he realized it was only a matter of chance that Tereza loved him and not his friend Z。 Apart from her consummated love for Tomas； there were； in the realm of possibility； an infinite number of unconsummated loves for other men。
We all reject out of hand the idea that the love of our life may be something light or weightless； we presume our love is what must be； that without it our life would no longer be the same； we feel that Beethoven himself； gloomy and awe…inspiring； is playing the Es muss sein！ to our own great love。
Tomas often thought of Tereza's remark about his friend Z。 and came to the conclusion that the love story of his life exemplified not Es muss sein！ （It must be so）； but rather Es konnte auch anders sein （It could just as well be otherwise）。
Seven years earlier； a complex neurological case happened to have been discovered at the hospital in Tereza's town。 They called in the chief surgeon of Tomas's hospital in Prague for consultation； but the chief surgeon of Tomas's hospital happened to be suffering from sciatica； and because he could not move he sent Tomas to the provincial hospital in his place。 The town had several hotels； but Tomas happened to be given a room in the one where Tereza was employed。 He happened to have had enough free time before his train left to stop at the hotel restaurant。 Tereza happened to be on duty； and happened to be serving Tomas's table。 It had taken six chance happenings to push Tomas towards Tereza； as if he had little inclination to go to her on his own。
He had gone back to Prague because of her。 So fateful a decision resting on so fortuitous a love； a love that would not even have existed had it not been for the chief surgeon's sciatica seven years earlier。 And that woman； that personification of absolute fortuity； now again lay asleep beside him； breathing deeply。
It was late at night。 His stomach started acting up as it tended to do in times of psychic stress。
Once or twice her breathing turned into mild snores。 Tomas felt no compassion。 All he felt was the pressure in his stomach and the despair of having returned。
PART TWO
Soul and Body
1
It would be senseless for the author to try to convince the reader that his characters once actually lived。 They were not born of a mother's womb； they were born of a stimulating phrase or two or from a basic situation。 Tomas was born of the saying Einma！ ist keinmal。 Tereza was born of the rumbling of a stomach。
The first time she went to Tomas's flat； her insides began to rumble。 And no wonder： she had had nothing to eat since breakfast but a quick sandwich on the platform before boarding the train。 She had concentrated on the daring journey ahead of her and forgotten about food。 But when we ignore the body； we are more easily victimized by it。 She felt terrible standing there in front of Tomas listening to her belly speak out。 She felt like crying。 Fortunately； after the first ten seconds Tomas put his arms around her and made her forget her ventral voices。
2
Tereza was therefore born of a situation which brutally reveals the irreconcilable duality of body and soul； that fundamental human experience。
A long time ago； man would listen in amazement to the sound of regular beats in his chest； never suspecting what they were。 He was unable to identify himself with so alien and unfamiliar an object as the body。 The body was a cage； and inside that cage was something which looked； listened； feared； thought； and marveled； that something； that remainder left over after the body had been accounted for； was the soul。
Today； of course； the body is no longer unfamiliar： we know that the beating in our chest is the heart and that the nose is the nozzle of a hose sticking out of the body to take oxygen to the lungs。 The face is nothing but an instrument panel registering all the body mechanisms： digestion； sight； hearing； respiration； thought。
Ever since man has learned to give each part of the body a name； the body has given him less trouble。 He has also learned that the soul is nothing more than the gray matter of the brain in action。 The old duality of body and soul has become shrouded in scientific terminology； and we can laugh at it as merely an obsolete prejudice。
But just make someone who has fallen in love listen to his stomach rumble； and the unity of body and soul； that lyrical illusion of the age of science； instantly fades away。
3
Tereza tried to see herself through her body。 That is why； from girlhood on； she would stand before the mirror so often。 And because she was afraid her mother would catch her at it； every peek into the mirror had a tinge of secret vice。
It was not vanity that drew her to the mirror； it was amazement at seeing her own I。 She forgot she was looking at the instrument panel of her body mechanisms； she thought she saw her soul shining through the features of her face。 She forgot that the nose was merely the nozzle of a hose that took oxygen to the lungs； she saw it as the true expression of her nature。
Staring at herself for long stretches of time； she was occasionally upset at the sight of her mother's features in her face。 She would stare all the more doggedly at her image in an attempt to wish them away and keep only what was hers alone。 Each time she succeeded was a time of intoxication： her soul would rise to the surface of her body like a crew charging up from the bowels of a ship； spreading out over the deck； waving at the sky and singing in jubilation。
4
She took after her mother； and not only physically。 I sometimes have the feeling that her entire life was merely a continuation of her mother's； much as the course of a ball on the billiard table is merely the continuation of the player's arm movement。
Indeed； was she not the principal culprit determining her mother's fate？ She； the absurd encounter of the sperm of the most manly of men and the egg of the most beautiful of women？ Yes； it was in that fateful second； which was named Tereza； that the botched long…distance race； her mother's life； had begun。
Tereza's mother never stopped reminding her that being a mother meant sacrificing everything。 Her words had the ring of truth； backed as they were by the experience of a woman who had lost everything because of her child。 Tereza would listen and believe that being a mother was the highest value in life and that being a mother was a great sacrifice。 If a mother was Sacrifice personified； then a daughter was Guilt； with no possibility of redress。
6
Of course； Tereza did not know the story of the night when her mother whispered Be careful into the ear of her father。 Her guilty conscience was as vague as original sin。 But she did what she could to rid herself of it。 Her mother took her out of school at the age of fifteen； and Tereza went to work as a waitress； handing over all her earnings。 She was willing to do anything