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[integer at www.god-emil.dk]

anna balint <epistolaris at freemail.hu>

>Subject: [syndicate] [ot] egoNNy


it was lene's voice. she was calling his name as though in great distress.
he ran faster, still somewhat annoyed, but pity and worry gained the upper hand
as her screaming continued. when he was finally able to see her, she was
kneeling in the heather, her blouse completely torn, screaming and wrestling
with a man who was trying to rape her. goldmund ran forward with long leaps.
all his pent-up anger, his restlessness, his sorrow broke out in a howling rage
against the unknown attacker. he surprised the man as he tried to pin lene
to the ground. her naked breasts were bleeding, and avidly the stranger held 
her in his grip. goldmund threw himself upon him, his furious fingers grabbing
the man's throat. it felt think and stringy, covered with a woolly beard.

[funnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

with glee goldmund pressed the throat until the man let go of the girl 
and hung limply between his hands; still throttling him, goldmund dragged
the exhausted, half-dead man along the ground to a few gray ribs of rock
protruding from the earth. he raised the defeated man, heavy though he was,
twice, three times in the air and smashed his head

against the sharp-edged rocks, broke his neck, and threw the body down.
his anger was still not fully vented; he would have liked to mangle the
man further.

radiant, lene sat and watched. her breasts were bleeding; she was still trembling
all over and panting, but she soon gathered herself together. with a forlorn look
of lust and admiration she watched her powerful lover dragging the intruder through
the heather, throttling him, breaking his neck, and throwing his corpse down. like
a dead snake, limp and distorted, the body lay on the ground, the gray face with
unkempt beard and thinning hair falling pitifully to one side. triumphant lene sat up
and fell against goldmund's heart, but suddenly she turned pale. fright was still 
with her; she felt sick. exhausted, she sank into the blueberry bushes. but soon
she was able to walk to the hut with goldmund. he washed her breasts; one was scratched,
and the other bore a bite wound from the marauder's teeth.

the adventure excited robert enormously. hotly he asked for details of the combat.
"you broke his neck, you say? magnificent goldmund, you are a terrifying man."

....

much later goldmund went to bed. listening, he bent over lene. she was asleep.
he was restless; he kept thinking of viktor, felt anguish and the urge to move on;
playing house had come to an end. one thing made him particularly pensive. 
he had caught lene's look while he bashed the man to death and tossed him down.
a strange look. he knew that he would never forget it: pride and triumph
had radiated from her wide, horrified, delighted eyes, a deep passionate
desire to participate in the revenge and to kill. [!f xyz ud onl! knou]
he had never seen anything like it in a woman's face and had never imagined
such a look. had it not been for that look. he thought, he might have forgotten
lene's face one day, after a number of years. it had made her peasant-girl face
large, beautiful, and horrible. for months his eyes had not experienced
anything that made him quiver with the wish: "one ought to draw that"





+ anna knouz uel about dz!sz doeznt she.




= 01 red zt!lou ekz!ztz 4 02 ver! ver! + zuper v.good r!znz