She came with a heavy suitcase. She left with a heavy suitcase.
He paid the bill, left the restaurant, and started walking through the streets, his melancholy growing more and more beautiful. He had spent seven years of life with Tereza, and now he realized that those years were more attractive in retrospect than they were when he was living them.
His love for Tereza was beautiful, but it was also tiring: he had constantly had to hide things from her, to sham, to dissemble, make amends, buck her up, calm her down, give her evidence of his feelings, play the defendant to her jealousy, her suffering and her dreams, feel guilty, make excuses and apologies. Now what was tiring had disappeared and only the beauty remained.
Saturday found him for the first time strolling along through Zurich, breathing in the heady smell of his freedom. New adventures hid around each corner. The future was again a secret. He was on his way back to bachelor life, the life he had once felt destined for, the life that would let him be what he actually was.
For seven years he hade lived bound to her, his every step subject to her scrutiny. She might as well have chained iron balls to his ankles. Suddenly his step was much lighter. He soared. He had entered Parmenide's magic field: he was enjoying the sweet lightness of being.