announce to him, as a secret sign, that he would never be liked in this country and that she, the people's mes-
senger, would always be ready to hold him down so as to offer him up to the men threatening him with poles with wire loops. He hugged the dog and pressed him close. He mused that he could not leave him here at risk, that he must take him along far away from this country as a souvenir of persecution, as one of those who had escaped. Then he realized that he was hiding this merry pooch here as if he were an outlaw fleeing the police, and this notion seemed comic to him.
Someone knocked at the door, and Dr. Skreta entered: 'You're finally back, and it's about time. I've been looking for you all afternoon. What have you been up to?'
'I went to see Olga, and then…' He started to tell about the dog, but Skreta interrupted him:
'I should have known. Wasting time like that when we've got a lot of things to discuss! I've already told Bertlef you're here, and I've arranged for him to invite both of us.'
At that moment the dog jumped off the daybed, went over to the doctor, stood up on his hind legs, and put his front legs on Skreta's chest. He scratched the dog on the nape of the neck. 'Yes, yes, Bob, you're a good dog…' he said, not surprised to see him there.
'His name is Bob?'
'Yes, it's Bob,' said Skreta, and he told him that the dog belonged to the owner of an inn in the forest nearby; everyone knew the dog, because he roamed everywhere.
The dog understood that they were talking about
him, and this pleased him. He wagged his tail and tried to lick Skreta's face.
'You're shrewd psychologically,' said the doctor. 'You have to study Bertlef in depth for me today. I don't know how to handle him. I've got great plans for him.'
'To sell his pious pictures?'
'Pious pictures, that's silly,' said Skreta. 'This is about something much more important. I want him to adopt me.'
'Adopt you?'
'Adopt me as a son. It's vital to me. If I become his adopted son, I'll automatically acquire American citizenship.'
'You want to emigrate?'
'No. I'm engaged in long-term experiments here, and I don't want to interrupt them. By the way, I have to talk to you about that too today, because I need you for these experiments. With American citizenship, I'd also get an American passport, and I could travel freely all over the world. You know very well that otherwise it's difficult to leave this country. And I want very much to go to Iceland.'
'Why exactly Iceland?'
'Because it has the best salmon fishing,' said Skreta. And he went on: 'What complicates things a bit is that Bertlef is only fifteen years older than I am. I have to explain to him that adoptive fatherhood is a legal status that has nothing to do with biological fatherhood, and that theoretically he could be my adoptive father even if he were younger than I. Maybe he'll understand
this, though he has a very young wife. She's one of my patients. By the way, shell be arriving here the day after tomorrow. I've sent Suzy to Prague to meet her when she lands.'
'Does Suzy know about your plan?'
'Of course. I urged her at all costs to gain her future mother-in-law's friendship.'
'And the American? What does he say about it?'
'That's just what's most difficult. The man can't understand it if I don't spell it out for him. That's why I need you, to study him and tell me how to handle him.'
Skreta looked at his watch and announced that Bertlef was waiting for them.
'But what are we going to do with Bob?' asked Jakub.
'How come you brought him here?' said Skreta.
Jakub explained to his friend how he had saved the dog's life, but Skreta was immersed in his thoughts and listened to him absentmindedly. After Jakub had finished, he said: 'The innkeeper's wife is one of my patients. Two years ago she gave birth to a beautiful baby. They love Bob, you should bring him back to them tomorrow. Meanwhile, let's give him a sleeping tablet so he won't bother us.'
He took a tube out of his pocket and shook out a tablet. He called the dog over, opened his jaws, and dropped the tablet down his gullet.
'In a minute, he'll be sleeping sweetly,' he said, and he left the room with Jakub.
9
Bertlef welcomed his two visitors, and Jakub ran his eyes over the room. Then he went over to the painting of the bearded saint: 'I've heard that you paint,' he said to Bertlef.
'Yes,' Bertlef replied, 'that is Saint Lazarus, my patron saint.'
'Why did you paint a blue halo?' asked Jakub, showing his surprise.
'I am glad you asked me that question. As a rule people look at a painting and don't even know what they are seeing. I made the halo blue simply because in reality halos are blue.'
Jakub again showed surprise, and Bertlef went on: 'People who become attached to God with a particularly powerful love are rewarded by experiencing a sacred joy that flows through their entire being and radiates out from there. The light of this divine joy is soft and peaceful, and its color is the celestial azure.'
'Wait a moment,' Jakub interrupted. 'Are you saying that halos are more than a symbol?'
'Certainly,' said Bertlef. 'But you should not imagine that they emanate continuously from saints' heads and that saints go around in the world like itinerant lanterns. Of course not. It is only at certain moments of intense inner joy that their brows give off a bluish light. In the first centuries after the death of Jesus, in an era when saints were numerous and there were
many people who knew them well, no one had the slightest doubt about the color of halos, and on all the paintings and frescoes of that time you can see that the halos are blue. It was only in the fifth century that painters started little by little to depict them in other colors, such as orange or yellow. Much later, in Gothic painting, there are only golden halos. This was more decorative and better conveyed the terrestrial power and glory of the church. But that halo no more resembled the true halo than the church of the time resembled the early church.'
'That's something I was unaware of,' said Jakub, and Bertlef went over to the liquor cabinet. He conferred with his two visitors for a few moments about what to drink. When he had poured cognac into the three glasses, he turned to the physician: 'Please don't forget about that unhappy expectant father. It is very important to me!'
Skreta assured Bertlef that it would all end well, and Jakub then asked what they were talking about. After they told him (let us appreciate the graceful discretion of the two men, who, even though it was only Jakub with them, mentioned no names), he expressed great pity for the unfortunate begetter: 'Which of us hasn't lived through this martyrdom! It's one of life's great trials. Those who give in and become fathers against their will are doomed forever by their defeat. They become spiteful, like all losers, and they wish the same fate on everyone else.'
'My friend!' Bertlef exclaimed. 'You are speaking
in the company of a happy father! If you stayed here for another day or two, you would see my son, a beautiful child, and you would take back what you have just said!'
'I wouldn't take anything back,' said Jakub, 'because you didn't become a father against your will!'
'Certainly not. I became a father by my own free will and by the good will of Doctor Skreta.'
The doctor nodded with an air of satisfaction and declared that he too had a notion of fatherhood different from Jakub's, as shown, by the way, by the blessed state of his dear Suzy. 'The only thing,' he added, 'that puzzles me a bit about procreation is how senselessly parents choose each other. It's incredible what hideous-looking individuals decide to procreate. They probably imagine that the burden of ugliness will be lighter if they share it
