Shadows in Paradise: A Novel by Erich Maria Remarque

Author:Erich Maria Remarque [Remarque, Erich Maria]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780812985610
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-03-04T00:00:00+00:00

Melikov had been right about the storm. When we left the restaurant, the wind was whipping up dust and papers, and flashes of lightning shot across the sky. “We’d better grab a taxi,” I said.

“What for? The cabs stink of sweat. Let’s walk.”

“It’s going to pour. You’re not dressed for it.”

“Who cares? I was going to wash my hair tonight anyway.”

“But you’ll be soaked through.”

“It won’t hurt this dress. It was too cold in the restaurant. Let’s walk. If it gets bad, we can duck into a doorway. Oh, the wind! It’s so exciting!”

We walked close to the house fronts. Great streaks of lightning seemed to shoot down from the tops of the skyscrapers, followed by claps of thunder that drowned out the sound of the traffic. Then came the raindrops, big dark spots scattered over the sidewalk, and a moment later the deluge.

Natasha held out her face into the rain. Her mouth was half open, and her eyes were closed. “Hold me tight,” she said.

People scurried into doorways, and in an instant the sidewalks were deserted. The street was transformed into a dark frothing lake.

“My God!” cried Natasha. “You’ve got your new suit on.”

“Too late,” I said.

“I only thought of myself. I’m stark naked.” She lifted up her skirt to the waist, revealing nothing but bare skin and her infinitesimal white panties. “But you! Your beautiful new suit!”

“Too late,” I said. “Anyway, a little water won’t hurt it. It’ll just need pressing. So let’s rejoice in the elements. How about a swim in the Plaza fountain?”

She laughed and pulled me into a doorway. “Come on. It’s no good to get the lining wet. We can rejoice in the elements right here. Look at the lightning! And it’s so blissfully cool! We’re lucky our stomachs are full of good food and wine!”

How practical she is, for all her enthusiasm, I thought, and kissed her warm little face. We were standing between two shop windows; on one side, corsets for corpulent matrons quivered in the lightning flashes; on the other, tropical fish were swimming lazily about in the silky green light of their tanks. I had kept such fish in my childhood and recognized some of the varieties: the viviparous cyprinodonts, the guppies that sparkle like jewels, the king cichlids, the crescent-shaped, silver-and-black-striped scalares making their way like tall exotic sails through the forests of Vallisneria. There amid the phantasmagoric lightnings lay a bit of my childhood, unchanged by the intervening years and events. I held Natasha in my arms and felt her warmth; yet a part of me was far away, crouched over a forgotten spring that had long ceased to flow, harking to a past that entranced me all the more because it had grown so strange to me. Days spent in the woods, or on the lake, as dragonflies with quivering wings hovered motionless in mid-air; evenings in gardens amid the fragrance and freshness of the lilacs. All this passed before my eyes like swift silent film as

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