The Tanners

“No doubt you’ll be leaving now, it’s what we agreed. Farewell. Come here to me, come close, and take my hand. Quite possibly I shall soon throw myself at a man who doesn’t deserve me. I’ll have wasted my life. I’ll enjoy a great deal of respect. People will say: What a capable woman she is. In all truth, I have no desire ever to hear from you again. Try to be a good man. Get involved in public matters, give people cause to talk about you, it would give me pleasure to hear of you from others. Or just go on living as best you’re able, remain in the dark, struggle on in the darkness with the many days left to come. I shall never suspect you of frailty. What else should I say to wish you luck on your journey? Go on, thank me. Yes, you! Do you really have no intention of thanking me for your time here, which I made possible for you? But no, don’t thank me, it wouldn’t suit you. You’re incapable of bowing and saying you can’t even begin to express your thanks. Your behavior’s your gratitude. You and I chased and drove the hours before us at such a clip they got winded. Do you really not own any more things than fit in that tiny suitcase? You are truly poor. A single suitcase is the entire household you inhabit in this world. There’s something enchanting about this, but also something wretched. Go now. I shall watch from the window as you walk away. When you reach the edge of the hill up there, turn around and look back at me one last time. Why should any further words of tenderness be exchanged? Between you, the brother, and me, the sister? Does it matter if a sister never sees her brother again? I am sending you away somewhat coldly because I know you and know you hate affectionate farewells. Between us this means nothing. Now bid me adieu and then be on your way—”

— 11–