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He　kept　warning　himself　not　to　give　in　to　compassion；　and　compassion　listened　with　bowed　head　and　a　seemingly　guilty　conscience。　Compassion　knew　it　was　being　presumptuous；　yet　it　quietly　stood　its　ground；　and　on　the　fifth　day　after　her　departure　Tomas　informed　the　director　of　his　hospital　（the　man　who　had　phoned　him　daily　in　Prague　after　the　Russian　invasion）　that　he　had　to　return　at　once。　He　was　ashamed。　He　knew　that　the　move　would　appear　irresponsible；　inexcusable　to　the　man。　He　thought　to　unbosom　himself　and　tell　him　the　story　of　Tereza　and　the　letter　she　had　left　on　the　table　for　him。　But　in　the　end　he　did　not。　From　the　Swiss　doctor's　point　of　view　Tereza's　move　could　only　appear　hysterical　and　abhorrent。　And　Tomas　refused　to　allow　anyone　an　opportunity　to　think　ill　of　her。　The　director　of　the　hospital　was　in　fact　offended。　Tomas　shrugged　his　shoulders　and　said；　Es　muss　sein。　Es　muss　sein。　
It　was　an　allusion。　The　last　movement　of　Beethoven's　last　quartet　is　based　on　the　following　two　motifs：

To　make　the　meaning　of　the　words　absolutely　clear；　Beethoven　introduced　the　movement　with　a　phrase；　Der　schwer　gefasste　Entschluss；　which　is　commonly　translated　as　the　difficult　resolution。　
This　allusion　to　Beethoven　was　actually　Tomas's　first　step　back　to　Tereza；　because　she　was　the　one　who　had　induced　him　to　buy　records　of　the　Beethoven　quartets　and　sonatas。
The　allusion　was　even　more　pertinent　than　he　had　thought　because　the　Swiss　doctor　was　a　great　music　lover。　Smiling　serenely；　he　asked；　in　the　melody　of　Beethoven's　motif；　Muss　es　sein？　
＇a；　es　muss　sein！　Tomas　said　again。

16
Unlike　Parmenides；　Beethoven　apparently　viewed　weight　as　something　positive。　Since　the　German　word　schwer　means　both　difficult　and　heavy；　Beethoven's　difficult　resolution　may　also　be　construed　as　a　heavy　or　weighty　resolution。　The　weighty　resolution　is　at　one　with　the　voice　of　Fate　（　Es　muss　sein！　）；　necessity；　weight；　and　value　are　three　concepts　inextricably　bound：　only　necessity　is　heavy；　and　only　what　is　heavy　has　value。
This　is　a　conviction　born　of　Beethoven's　music；　and　although　we　cannot　ignore　the　possibility　（or　even　probability）　that　it　owes　its　origins　more　to　Beethoven's　commentators　than　to　Beethoven　himself；　we　all　more　or　less　share；　it：　we　believe　that　the　greatness　of　man　stems　from　the　fact　that　he　bears　his　fate　as　Atlas　bore　the　heavens　on　his　shoulders。　Beethoven's　hero　is　a　lifter　of　metaphysical　weights。
Tomas　approached　the　Swiss　border。　I　imagine　a　gloomy；　shock…headed　Beethoven；　in　person；　conducting　the　local　firemen's　brass　band　in　a　farewell　to　emigration；　an　Es　Muss　Sein　march。
Then　Tomas　crossed　the　Czech　border　and　was　welcomed　by　columns　of　Russian　tanks。　He　had　to　stop　his　car　and　wait　a　half　hour　before　they　passed。　A　terrifying　soldier　in　the　black　Uniform　of　the　armored　forces　stood　at　the　crossroads　directing　traffic　as　if　every　road　in　the　country　belonged　to　him　and　him　alone。
Es　muss　sein！　Tomas　repeated　to　himself；　but　then　he　began　to　doubt。　Did　it　really　have　to　be？
Yes；　it　was　unbearable　for　him　to　stay　in　Zurich　imagining　Tereza　living　on　her　own　in　Prague。
But　how　long　would　he　have　been　tortured　by　compassion？　All　his　life？　A　year？　Or　a　month？　Or　only　a　week？
How　could　he　have　known？　How　could　he　have　gauged　it？　Any　schoolboy　can　do　experiments　in　the　physics　laboratory　to　test　various　scientific　hypotheses。　But　man；　because　he　has　only　one　life　to　live；　cannot　conduct　experiments　to　test　whether　to　follow　his　passion　（compassion）　or　not。
It　was　with　these　thoughts　in　mind　that　he　opened　the　door　to　his　flat。　Karenin　made　the　homecoming　easier　by　jumping　up　on　him　and　licking　his　face。　The　desire　to　fall　into　Tereza's　arms　（he　could　still　feel　it　while　getting　into　his　car　in　Zurich）　had　completely　disintegrated。　He　fancied　himself　standing　opposite　her　in　the　midst　of　a　snowy　plain；　the　two　of　them　shivering　from　the　cold。
17
From　the　very　beginning　of　the　occupation；　Russian　military　airplanes　had　flown　over　Prague　all　night　long。　Tomas；　no　longer　accustomed　to　the　noise；　was　unable　to　fall　asleep。
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　thou