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case。
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； sham； 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 alone 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 the 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 had 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 Parmenides' magic field： he was enjoying the sweet lightness of being。
（Did he feel like phoning Sabina in Geneva？ Contacting one or another of the women he had met during his several months in Zurich？ No； not in the least。 Perhaps he sensed that any woman would make his memory of Tereza unbearably painful。）
15
This curious melancholic fascination lasted until Sunday evening。 。On Monday； everything changed。 Tereza forced her way into his thoughts： he imagined her sitting there writing her farewell letter； he felt her hands trembling； he saw her lugging her heavy suitcase in one hand and leading Karenin on his leash with the other； he pictured her unlocking their Prague flat； and suffered the utter abandonment breathing her in the face as she opened the door。
During those two beautiful days of melancholy； his compassion （that curse of emotional telepathy） had taken a holiday。 It had slept the sound Sunday sleep of a miner who； after a hard week's work； needs to gather strength for his Monday shift。
Instead of the patients he was treating； Tomas saw Tereza。
He tried to remind himself。 Don't think about her！ Don't think about her！ He said to himself； I'm sick with compassion。 It's good that she's gone and that I'll never see her again； though it's not Tereza I need to be free of—it's that sickness； compassion； which I thought I was immune to until she infected me with it。
On Saturday and Sunday； he felt the sweet lightness of being rise up to him out of the depths of the future。 On Monday； he was hit by a weight the likes of which he had never known。 The tons of steel of the Russian tanks were nothing compared with it。 For there is nothing heavier than compassion。 Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone； for someone； a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes。
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 t