And I continued to daydream –
I saw myself sitting at home; not as one usually sees oneself, looking back into the past, no: it was as if I were still there, seated at my desk in the city like an empty husk, the cast off cocoon in which an insect larva had spent the winter, dead and abandoned since I emerged as a butterfly a few days ago, spreading my wings in the new freedom of the purple heather. So strong was the hold this feeling took on my imagination that it came as a shock when mundane matters took over again and I had to think of returning home. I gave a shiver at the thought of the empty skin, like some pallid Doppelgänger still attached to my desk, into which I would have to crawl back to be reunited with my past.
But such fancies quickly dispersed when I entered the vestibule of the house where I lived, for there, coming down the stairs from an unsuccessful attempt to see me, was Lipotin. In spite of the fact that my limbs were aching from the journey, I insisted on dragging him straight back up with me. I suddenly felt the need, stronger than ever, to talk to him about the Princess, about Stroganoff and about so many other things that – – –
In short, Lipotin came back up and spent the rest of the evening with me.
A remarkable evening! Or, to be precise, an evening’s conversation that took a remarkable turn: Lipotin was more talkative than usual, and a certain scurrilous tendency in him, which I had noticed before, was more marked than usual, so that many things about him seemed new, or at least different.
He described Baron Stroganoff’s death – a philosopher’s death, if ever there was! – and told me some uninteresting details of his own problems as executor of an estate consisting of a few articles of clothing hanging on the walls of the empty room like butterfly chrysalises. I was struck by the fact that Lipotin used an image similar to the one that I could not get out of my head during my walking holiday, and a host of fleeting thoughts swarmed over my mind like ants: was the sensation of death very different from the feeling of going out into the open air, leaving behind an empty cocoon – the cast-off garment – our skin, which even while we are alive – my recent experience had taught me this – we sometimes at eerie moments see from outside, like a dead man who is able to look back on the corpse he has left behind.
All the while Lipotin prattled on about this and that in his disjointed, half ironic manner; in vain I waited for him to bring the conversation round to Princess Shotokalungin of his own accord. For a long time a strange reserve kept me from giving our chatter the turn I so much desired, but eventually my impatience won and, as I made the tea, I asked him straight out what he thought he was doing, sending the Princess to see me, and what made him tell her he had sold me antique weapons.
“And why should I not have sold you such things?” Lipotin calmly replied. His tone irritated me; I became more worked up than I intended when I cried:
“But Lipotin, you must know whether you once sold me an ancient Persian or God knows what kind of spearhead or not?! Or rather, you know very well that you never ...”
He interrupted me, as impassive as ever:
“But, my dear friend, of course I sold you the spearhead.”
His eyelids were half closed and his finger tamped a few tobacco threads back into a cigarette; his whole expression was one of blasé self-assurance. I flared up at him. “A strange kind of joke, my friend! I have never bought anything of the kind from you. I have never even seen anything like that in your shop. You are wrong, so wrong that I cannot understand it!”
“Really?” Lipotin answered languidly. “Well, then, it must have been some time ago that I sold you the weapon.”
“Never! Not recently nor some time ago! Some time ago, what does that mean, some time ago?! How long have we known each other? Six months, and your memory really ought to be able to cope with that.”
Lipotin cocked his head, looked up at me and replied, “When I say ‘some time ago’ then I mean in another life – in a former incarnation.”
“What do you mean? In a –.”
“In a former incarnation”, Lipotin repeated pronouncing each syllable distinctly. I sensed an undertone of mockery and responded with an ironic, “Of course”.
Lipotin said nothing.
However, as I was desperate to know why he had sent the Princess to me, I took up the thread:
“Anyway, I am grateful to you for allowing me to make the acquaintance of a lady who – – –”
He nodded.
I continued, “Unfortunately, the trick you felt you had to play to achieve that put me in an awkward spot. If at all possible, I would very much like to procure the desired weapon for the Princess – – – “
“But it is in your possession!” Butter wouldn’t have melted in Lipotin’s mouth.
“Lipotin, you’re impossible today.”
“Why ever so?”
“It’s grotesque! You allow a poor lady to believe I possess a weapon – “
“– which you acquired from me.”
“But, my dear chap, you have just admitted – ”
“– that it was in a former incarnation. Maybe.” Lipotin pretended he was deep in thought and mumbled, “It
