Regina was content to just sit there, on that veranda looking out over a calm, green river, as she watched the guests eating trout served crisp from the frying-pan. She observed these rational and impassive human beings, trapped by convention, cautiously using their knives and forks as if it were a matter of life and death. From morning till night, all those people concealed their talents in order to appear ordinary. Regina, who fit the psychological profile of Musil, smiled affably. She struck me as being a woman too young by far, vulnerable because she looked so inexperienced. But in reality she possessed incredible powers; she had never forgotten the gifts with which she had been born, and with which every human being comes into the world.
        "Regina", I told her, "don't you think you take us too seriously?" She turned in her chair and her foot slipped, causing her to lose her balance and appear clumsy. She always looked gauche when making the simplest gesture which others could make without any difficulty. This immediately exposed her to a certain amount of ridicule, only to be spared at the last minute, for Regina was not the sort of person to arouse any lasting resentment or dislike. She would smile mysteriously, at once shy and submissive. But I knew her well. She did not permit anyone to linger over some fleeting moment. From the depths she dredged those terrifying faculties others were too cowardly to exploit.
        "My greatest fear is never to be alone and have people gather round me like fish round a corpse." There she was perverting the feeble and facile attitudes of all mankind. It was impossible to carry on a conversation in this manner. So when Regina was present people talked about the weather with greater enthusiasm than ever. In her they saw mirrored their own dark souls, the lost form of their own being. And this terrified them.
        The restaurant was full and at one table six Germans were absorbed in trying out the regional dish their guidebook recommended. Suddenly one of them could sense Regina staring at him. There was something perverse about that steady gaze with no motive behind it, and he felt uneasy. He tried to defend himself with rancor and disdain, but this made no impression. She was transparent to the point of draining away all feeling. The young man suddenly became desperate. Regina shyly turned her face and I could see that she had already forgotten that tiny massacre of human understanding.
        "You shouldn't treat us like that, Regina; we all have a right to be ourselves." Preoccupied with the tuft of dark hair that had escaped from its hairpin, she made no attempt to answer me. I persisted: "Regina, you disapprove of anyone who behaves differently from you and you end up disowning all of us."
        "Not true," she said quietly, "I simply expose the hypocrisy of these love scenes we all like to play."
        There were now leftovers on all the plates, the remains of fish resembling combs of livid teeth with crushed leaves of watercress stuck between them. The brick tile floor was dark and smelled of wax. Someone let out a shriek of laughter which sounded hollow and somehow out of place.
        "Regina," I said, while realizing there was little point in trying to reason with her. We were poles apart and she had nothing to offer me. To discover that I still had some talent left that I could use suddenly became more important than any pretense of friendship. "May God love you, Regina, since I cannot." She managed to secure the tuft of dark hair with the hairpin she surreptitiously cleaned with spittle and a corner of her napkin. And felt pleased with herself.

Translated by Giovanni Pontiero