The tram approaches a stopping place and a girl takes up her position near the step, ready to alight. She is as distinct to me as if I had run my hands over her. She is dressed in black, the pleats of her skirt hang almost still, her blouse is tight and has a collar of white fine-meshed lace, her left hand is braced against the side of the tram, the umbrella in her right hand rests on the second top step. Her face is brown, her nose, slightly pinched at the sides, has a broad round tip. She has a lot of brown hair and stray little tendrils on the right temple. Her small ear is close-set but since I am near her I can see the whole ridge of the whorl of her right ear and the shadow at the root of it.

At that point I asked myself: How is it that she is not amazed at herself, that she keeps her lips closed and makes no such remark?

Translated by Willa and Edwin Muir

They tell this tale of its foundation: men of various nations had an identical dream. They saw a woman running at night through an unknown city; she was seen from behind, with long hair, and she was naked. They dreamed of pursuing her. As they twisted and turned, each of them lost her. After the dream they set out in search of that city; they never found it,but they found one another; they decided to build a city like the one in the dream. In laying out the streets, each followed the course of his pursuit; at the spot where they had lost the fugitive's trail, they arranged spaces and walls differently from the dream, so she would be unable to escape again.

This was the city of Zobeide, where they settled waiting for that scene to be repeated one night. None of them, asleep or awake, ever saw the woman again. The city's streets were streets where they went to work every day, with no link any more to the dreamed chase. Which, for that matter, had long been forgotten.

He kissed her palm again, and again the skin on the back of her neck crawled excitingly.

'But you do like me. Could you ever love me, Scarlett?'

'Ah!' she thought, triumphantly. 'Now I've got him!' and she answered with studied coolness: 'Indeed, no. That is not unless you mended your manners considerably.'

'And I have no intention of mending them. So you could not love me? That is as I hoped. For while I like you immensely, I do not love you and it would be tragic indeed for you to suffer twice for unrequited love, wouldn't it, dear? May I call you "dear", Mrs. Hamilton? I shall call you "dear" whether you like it or not, so no matter, but the proprieties must be observed.'

'You don't love me?'

'No, indeed. Did you hope that I did?'

'Don't be so presumptuous.'

'You hoped! Alas, to blight your hopes! I should love you, for you are charming and talented at many useless accomplishments. But many ladies have charm and accomplishments and are just as useless as you are. No, I don't love you. But I do like you tremendously - for the elasticity of your conscience, for the selfishness which you seldom trouble to hide, and for the shrewd practicality in you which, I fear, you get from some not too remote Irish-peasant ancestor.'

Peasant! Why, he was insulting her! She began to splutter wordlessly.

'Don't interrupt,' he begged, squeezing her hand. 'I like you because I have those same qualities in me and like begets liking. I realise you still cherish the memory of the godlike and wooden-headed Mr. Wilkes, who's probably been in his grave these six months. but there must be room in your heart for me too. Scarlett, do stop wriggling! I am making you a declaration. I have wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you, in the hall at Twelve Oaks, when you were bewitching poor Charlie Hamilton. I want you more than I have ever wanted any woman - and I've waited longer for you than I've ever waited for any woman.'

He kissed her palm again, and again the skin on the back of her neck crawled excitingly.

'But you do like me. Could you ever love me, Scarlett?'

'Ah!' she thought, triumphantly. 'Now I've got him!' and she answered with studied coolness: 'Indeed, no. That is not unless you mended your manners considerably.'

'And I have no intention of mending them. So you could not love me? That is as I hoped. For while I like you immensely, I do not love you and it would be tragic indeed for you to suffer twice for unrequited love, wouldn't it, dear? May I call you "dear", Mrs. Hamilton? I shall call you "dear" whether you like it or not, so no matter, but the proprieties must be observed.'

'You don't love me?'

'No, indeed. Did you hope that I did?'

'Don't be so presumptuous.'

'You hoped! Alas, to blight your hopes! I should love you, for you are charming and talented at many useless accomplishments. But many ladies have charm and accomplishments and are just as useless as you are. No, I don't love you. But I do like you tremendously - for the elasticity of your conscience, for the selfishness which you seldom trouble to hide, and for the shrewd practicality in you which, I fear, you get from some not too remote Irish-peasant ancestor.'

Peasant! Why, he was insulting her! She began to splutter wordlessly.

'Don't interrupt,' he begged, squeezing her hand. 'I like you because I have those same qualities in me and like begets liking. I realise you still cherish the memory of the godlike and wooden-headed Mr. Wilkes, who's probably been in his grave these six months. but there must be room in your heart for me too. Scarlett, do stop wriggling! I am making you a declaration. I have wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you, in the hall at Twelve Oaks, when you were bewitching poor Charlie Hamilton. I want you more than I have ever wanted any woman - and I've waited longer for you than I've ever waited for any woman.'

"Spreading democracy," as is now being done by the United States in the Middle East, means spreading the rules of democracy. It means telling people that whereas formerly they had no choice, now they have a choice. Formerly they had A and nothing but A; now they have a choice between A and B. "Spreading freedom" means creating the conditions for people to choose freely between A and B. The spreading of freedom and the spreading of democracy go hand in hand. The people engaged in spreading freedom and democracy see no irony in the description of the process just given.


A week passed before I saw her again—in a well-designed apartment block like this, tracking one's neighbors is not easy—and then only fleetingly as she passed through the front door in a flash of white slacks that showed off a derrière so near to perfect as to be angelic. God, grant me one wish before I die, I whispered; but then was overtaken with shame at the specificity of the wish, and withdrew it.


During the cold war, the explanation given by Western democratic states for the banning of their Communist parties was that a party whose stated aim is the destruction of the democratic process should not be allowed to participate in the democratic process, defined as choosing between A and B.

---

Why is it so hard to say anything about politics from outside politics? Why can there be no discourse about politics that is not itself political? To Aristotle the answer is that politics is built into human nature, that is, is part of our fate, as monarchy is the fate of bees. To strive for a systematic, suprapolitical discourse about politics is futile.


From Vinnie, who looks after the North Tower, I learn that she—whom I am prudent enough to describe to him not as the young woman in the alluringly short shift and now in the elegant white slacks, but as the young woman with the dark hair—is the wife or at least girlfriend of the pale, hurrying, plump, and ever-sweaty fellow whose path crosses mine now and again in the lobby and for whom my private name is Mr. Aberdeen; further, that she is not new in the customary sense of the word, having (together with Mr. A) occupied since January a prime unit on the top floor of this same North Tower.