He ate his breakfast abstractedly, replying in monosyllables to questions, fascinated by this new power. He had occasionally experienced something of the sort with Jelka, when they were very intimate: a sense of being connected, so their emotions were experienced simultanously by both. He had felt it as he held his children when they were babies. And now, he remembered, he had experienced it as a child as he stood in a garden one summer morning, leaning against a tree. In all these cases, it had been a deep, subconscious feeling that never reached the realm of conscious knowledge. Now it was more conscious and more detailed. With very little effort he could feel that Louise Curel’s brassiere was tight, and the left strap was cutting into her skin. He knew Annaleise had kicked off her shoes because she liked the feeling of the deep carpet against her bare feet. Both of them were envious of Selma Bengtsson. Annaleise wanted him to stay because she wanted to remain close to him; Louise believed that he was physically attracted to her and would sleep with her if he got the opportunity. Selma’s feelings disturbed him. She was in a state of almost feverish infatuation, and it was costing her an effort not to reach out and touch him under the table. She had seen the photograph of Jelka and the children, but it made no difference. She was thinking about coming to live in London, and was wondering whether Fallada could offer her a job. She believed she would be contented to be his mistress, without demanding anything more; in fact, she hoped to supplant Jelka. There was a hard-headed, determined element about her that troubled him.
He tried to read Geijerstam’s thoughts, but it was impossible. He felt no desire for Geijerstam; consequently, his mind remained closed. The same was true of Fallada. In Fallada, he could dimly sense an uneasiness; but when he tried to learn more, the contact seemed to break.
He tried to decide whether the vampire was still inside him, sucking energy through him. His experience last night had taught him how to observe her presence. As far as he could determine, she was not there. In that case, why did he desire the women who were seated at the table? The answer made his heart contract: because he wanted them. For himself, not for her. For a moment he struggled with a sense of panic that verged on nausea. Then he remembered that he meant to tell Geijerstam about it; the thought brought a sense of relief.
He was glad when breakfast was over; his appetite had vanished. Geijerstam said: “I usually take a walk along the shores of the lake, or a row to the landing stage on the other side. Would you both care to join me?”
Fallada said: “Of course.”
Selma Bengtsson asked: “May we come too?”
“I think not, my dear. We have things to discuss. And you have your studies.”
The disappointment that streamed from her was so intense that Carlsen was tempted to intercede. As he left the room, he was aware of her eyes staring at his back, willing him to turn and smile at her; at the same time, he was aware that the other girls were observing him closely. He went out without looking back.
The air was mild and full of the smell of spring. Now the life field of the girls was no longer disturbing his equilibrium, he felt better. With relief, his senses turned outward to the sunlight, and the delight was so intense that it was almost painful.
As soon as they were among the trees, walking towards the south end of the island, he said: “Is there somewhere we could sit down? I want to tell you something.”
Geijerstam pointed. “There is a bench by the inlet.”
A few hundred yards away, a small stream ran into the lake. Geijerstam said: “This flows from a spring at the top of the hill. We call it the Well of Saint Eric. According to the legend, Saint Eric spent the night praying near the hilltop, in a hermit’s hut. The next day, he was leading his men into battle against the Finns. The next morning, the spring had burst from the ground — a sign that his prayer had been heard.”
A rough wooden bench, carved from a section of tree trunk, had been erected where the stream joined the lake. Geijerstam sat down; the trunk of an immense elm provided support for their backs.
Carlsen began speaking immediately, as if afraid of interruption. “Something strange happened in the night. Miss Bengtsson came to my room.”
Geijerstam smiled, raising his eyebrows. “And what is strange about that, my dear Commander?” From his response, Carlsen sensed that he knew already.
“Please let me finish. . .” Suddenly, as he had feared, the reluctance was there; it was so strong that he felt as though a hand were gripping his windpipe. His face flushed; his heart began to pound with the effort. When he spoke, his voice sounded tight and breathless. The others looked at him in surprise. He stammered out the words, determined to say them at all costs. “I don’t believe she intended to stay the night — in fact, I know she didn’t, because she left her door open with the light on. All she wanted to tell me was that I’d been stealing her energy. . . What’s more, I didn’t intend to sleep with her. I’ve been married for five years and in all that time I’ve never even kissed another woman.”
Fallada said: “Are you all right?”
In spite of the sunlight, his teeth had begun to chatter, and his body had become icy cold. He clenched his fists and pressed them against his thighs. It was not unlike the sensation he used to experience when taking off from earth during his training as an astronaut. He continued to speak, although his voice was choked: “Just let me finish. You see, she was right. I am a vampire. I realised that when she touched me. That damn woman’s still there. But she’s inside me. I’m not mad. I know that. . . I know this sounds strange, but even now, something’s trying to stop me from telling you this.” He leaned back against the tree trunk, and the pressure brought a feeling of comfort. He breathed deeply. “Let me alone for a moment. I’ll be all right.” It took more than a minute for him to master the trembling. The knowledge that he had already told them the most important part made it easier. He wiped the sweat from his face with a handkerchief.
Geijerstam said gently: “Don’t distress yourself. Let me tell you something now. I already knew most of what you were going to tell me. I knew about it last night, when Selma said you had taken more energy than she expected. And when you told me about your encounter with the vampire woman, I knew what had happened.” He placed his hand on Carlsen’s. “I can tell you this: it is not as serious as you think.”
Carlsen said heavily: “I hope you’re right.”
Fallada said: “Can you describe what happened?”
“I’ll try.” As soon as he began to speak, he felt calmer. As he described it, he concentrated on accuracy in the detail, and this made it easier. He ended by speaking of his insights at breakfast.
After a silence, Geijerstam said: “And so now you are convinced you are a vampire too?”
“Don’t you think so?”
“No. I believe you have become aware of the vampirism that exists in all human beings. That is all.”
Carlsen had to control rising irritation. “I could have drained away her vitality until she died of exhaustion. Is that the vampirism that exists in all human beings?”
“No. But I believe it is a possibility that exists at this point in human evolution. This creature has not turned you into a vampire. She has only awakened the seed of a new development. And it is a development that has possibilities of good as well as evil.”
Carlsen asked quickly: “In what way?”
“To begin with, it has given you a deeper power of sympathy and insight. You didn’t destroy Selma, did you? In fact, you gave her energy. You have an instinctive sense that lovemaking should involve give and take.”
There was a silence, broken only by the whistling of birds and the water breaking on the pebbles. Carlsen said finally: “The fact remains that she’s turned me into a vampire. She’s given me abnormal desires that I didn’t possess before — and the power to carry them out.”
Fallada and Geijerstam began to speak at once. Fallada said: “Pardon me.”
Geijerstam said: “You do not understand. Every man is capable of every kind of desire. Have you ever read my account of the first vampire case I encountered?”