Irene, the wife of a prosperous lawyer in imperial Vienna, is a shallow woman who, without much involvement, more out of a sense of adventure than anything else, had an affaire with a young pianist. Leaving him one evening, she is confronted by a coarse and vulgar harridan, who now ruthlessly and repeatedly blackmails Irene. Zweig shows his usual skill in showing a woman's increasingly tormented inner life. Irene cannot bring herself to confess to her husband, largely because, afer eight years of marriage, she knows him so little that she has no idea how he would react: for all she knew, her own life would be utterly destroyed. True, in her panic she gains a new perspective on her past life and on the sufferings of others. But she feels she is hurtling to her doom, and Zweig's prose (again so well translated by Anthea Bell) hurtles along with it. And the outcome? ...
Zweig is a magnificent story teller.