by Agnon, S. Y.
Having mentioned that Tamara went back to her parents’ home, that she belongs to an underground group, and that she brought home a friend, this is the appropriate place to note that the trips Tamara referred to, such as the one to negotiate a teaching job, are fictions she fabricated to hide her activities from her parents; this is true of her classes in Mekor Hayim and of various other activities. As for Ursula, Ursula has no connection with these matters. Tamara befriended Ursula with no practical motive. Tamara befriended Ursula because of Ursula’s beauty, kindness, freshness – because of all the qualities one finds in those who have no dealings ‘with politics.
They sat there talking. Tamara, Ursula, and Taglicht. Tamara said, “Wasn’t it good that I invited you, Dr. Taglicht? When Ursula told me her father had told her about you, I called out to you right away. As soon as Ursula and I got off the bus, I called to you. When did you know her father? When you were in Vienna? Yes, Ursula is Viennese, like all the Viennese whose parents came from Galicia. You’re Galician too, aren’t you? I don’t mean to embarrass you, doctor. I’m sure there are some decent people among the Galicians. Please, doctor, don’t get the idea that I mean to compliment you. What do you actually do? You’re not a lecturer. You don’t publish books. So why do they say you’re a scholar? Papa Manfred says so too. Isn’t that so, Manfred? I call him Manfred. I can’t call him Fred, because Mother has a monopoly on that name. I call Mother Mother, because the name Henrietta is too long, and it doesn’t fit the environment here in the Land of Israel.” Henrietta said, “Please, Tamara, don’t talk nonsense.” Tamara said, “Do you think, Mother, that Dr. Taglicht is here to glean wisdom from me? If he wanted wisdom, he wouldn’t have come. Isn’t that true, doctor? Be honest and tell the truth.” Henrietta laughed and said, “Dr. Taglicht, did you ever see such a strange creature? I don’t know whom she resembles. Not me, not Herbst.” Tamara said, “If I resembled others, they would bore me. Tell me, Ursula, whom do you resemble?” Herbst said, “Could we change the subject?” Tamara said, “Yes, of course. Say something, and we’ll listen. I read your article, Papa. About a certain empress whose name I forget. I have nothing against scholarship, and I have nothing against history. Still, I have to tell you, dear Manfred, if I were to sit and repeat the sort of things historians write, you would scold me for engaging in gossip and slander. I used to think our history was boring, until I began to be a good daughter, took your advice, and began reading world history, as you suggested. I think that particular enterprise induces all sorts of bad habits. Dr. Taglicht probably disagrees, but that doesn’t change anything.” Herbst said, “And the romances you pore over?” Tamara said, “Which romances are you referring to? The ones I read or the ones I create?” Herbst said, “You’re writing a romance?” Tamara said, “Scholars are strange. In their minds, anything you do takes the form of writing. There are romances, dear Papa, that aren’t written, and let me confide to you, in a whisper, that they are the most interesting ones.” Herbst said, “Then you are involved in romances there with those teachers?” Tamara laughed and said, “Have you ever seen the likes of these people? They think the entire globe is occupied by teachers. Papa, my sweet, there are other types in the world, apart from teachers, lecturers, professors. Dr. Taglicht, are you a teacher too?” Taglicht said, “I am a teacher, a reluctant one.” Tamara looked at him and asked, “What do you mean, ‘reluctant’?” Taglicht said, “Like you.” Tamara said, “I’m actually happy to be a teacher, but a teacher’s wife – that’s an honor I would decline.” Taglicht asked, “Whose wife would you like to be?” Tamara answered, “Only time will tell. Those who write good romances let Amnon die a thousand deaths before he marries Tamar.” “And Tamar sits tight, calm, and confident, waiting.” “Why shouldn’t she be confident? She knows from the start that Amnon is totally committed to her.” “And if Amnon finds someone else, someone more attractive?” “Ursula, you answer him.” “Me?” Ursula answered in alarm. “In your place, I would have said, ‘If Amnon is such a fool, he doesn’t deserve my attention, not even for a moment.’“ “It’s that extreme, Tamara? Excuse me, I meant to say Tamar. Tamar is so rational from the beginning that she is capable of resolving to renounce Amnon?” “I don’t know whether or not she is rational, but I know that, even if all the others, whose names I have forgotten, even if all the others, are more attractive than Tamar, Amnon won’t forget Tamar.” “That’s enough!” Herbst shouted in a rage. Henrietta looked at him, surprised. Herbst caught her gaze and brushed his hand over his face, as if to brush away his rage. Tamara said, “Mother, what did you prepare for these honorable guests who have honored you with their presence?” Henrietta said, “A good daughter goes into the kitchen and prepares something for the honorable guests.” “And what does the good daughter do if she herself is an honorable guest?” Henrietta laughed and said, “If only we had such a daughter.” Tamara said, “It’s possible that just such a daughter is fluttering around inside, eager to emerge.” Henrietta said, “Stop babbling. Come, let’s get supper ready.” “Who will take charge of Dr. Taglicht? Who will take charge of Ursula? Isn’t it my job to make sure our guests aren’t bored? Come, Ursula, let’s help the lady of the house prepare us a feast. I’m really hungry. Surely you’re hungry too, Ursula. Good conversation is a good thing, but it doesn’t satisfy hunger.”
Henrietta and Tamara left the room and went to the kitchen with Ursula to prepare the meal, leaving Herbst and Taglicht alone. Herbst looked at Taglicht for a while. Then he said, “I read the newspapers, and every day I read names of men and women who were killed by the Arabs. Tell me, Taglicht, aren’t the newspapers hiding the names of some of the victims? In a country like this, where we don’t have accurate statistics, don’t people disappear, leaving no trace? It’s easy to imagine a person who has no written identification, a person like you or me, stabbed by an Arab knife, murdered, without its being announced. All the more so in the case of someone who has no relatives in the country. How can I explain my question? I imagine something similar has already occurred to you, considering what’s been going on in this country. When will there be an end to the murders you people call ‘riots’? I must get back to my original question. Can we really trust the newspapers to list every single man and woman who is killed? I said ‘woman,’ because women are more likely to be killed. Even in normal times, there were incidents in which women were raped and murdered. Quiet! I think the women are coming back, and I don’t want them to hear what we’re talking about. It’s not a pleasant subject for a woman’s ear. I don’t like talking about it either. Let’s change the subject. What are you up to these days, Dr. Taglicht? Are you still wasting your time correcting other people’s papers? Everything is, to a great extent, predetermined. We entrust our professors with the keys to wisdom, so they can teach and instruct. In the end, they have to ask others to correct, their language, transforming themselves into students. Those elevated professors are lucky to have you for a teacher, but it is high time you began to look after yourself. I don’t suggest that you get involved in folklore. I heard what you said to Weltfremdt, and I agree with you. But I have to say that I don’t share your views in every area. Small matters, when properly pursued, can be a key to larger issues. My mentor, Neu, has no use at all for folklore. Back to that other subject. You are involved in the Haganah, as you told me earlier. We certainly have to defend ourselves, and anyone who can handle a gun must not turn his back. Still, roles must be assigned, so that some people wield guns while others wield pens. When I see what we are doing, I am suspicious of those who don’t align themselves with us. In the end, what choice is there? People like us are doomed to continue to do what they have always done. Whether they like it or not, habit rules. Here come the women.”
Herbst sat in the dining room with his wife, his daughter, Ursula Katz, and Dr. Taglicht. He discussed, talked, argued, was silent, smoked, listened, rubbed the tips of his fingernails – continuing, all the while, to picture himself roaming from alley to alley,
from lane to lane, turning toward a certain house, surveying it with his eyes, approaching the entry, going into the building, coming to a door, knocking on it with his fingertips, receiving no response. As he sat there, he gazed at Henrietta again and again, thinking: Henrietta is pregnant, but what connection is there between her pregnancy and the locked door? He found no connection. And, because he didn’t find it, he was uneasy. He had another grievance: he wanted to find out where Shira had disappeared to, and he wasn’t being permitted to investigate. When he left Shira’s apartment, Schlesinger had latched onto him; when he came home, he found a house full of people. He wasn’t free to think about Shira, except on the bus among those Haganah people. Now that Tamara had brought a friend home, she, too, would take up his time. And Henrietta? Her baby was already visible. Now what is the actual connection between Henrietta’s pregnant state and…Before Herbst could pursue these thoughts to their end, supper was served.
Chapter twenty
Herbst’s fears about Ursula were unfounded. In no way did she infringe on his thoughts about Shira. She was no trouble at all to him, and she even had a positive effect. She came to stay with Tamara, and, as a result, Tamara doesn’t go out very often. The two of them stay in, and Henrietta no longer needs him, so he is free to come and go as he pleases. But he doesn’t go out very often either. He sits in his room, alone, adding cigarette to cigarette, smoking one, then another. We are used to this. It’s in no way new.
Ursula still doesn’t know what she’ll be doing in this country and how she will support herself. She is running out of money, and there is no way for her father to send more. His property was confiscated, and he is not allowed to work. All he can expect is a dry crust and a hard bed. As for her mother, her mother is safe, beyond the reach of any foe or enemy. She is in the Tyrol with her sister, who is married to a Nazi poet. No one there knows the poet’s wife is Jewish, and, of course, no one there knows her sister is Jewish. She both looks and sounds German.
Ursula sits with Tamara, and Tamara doesn’t allow her to break her head over money concerns. If she finds a job and can support herself, well and good; if not, she can stay on and help with the housework. To relieve her mother of the household chores, Tamara has taken them all on herself, and she is teaching Firadeus how to do things. Firadeus listens and straightens out whatever mess the two girls create. When Tamara sees how much has been accomplished, she is delighted and declares in her pleasant, rasping voice, “Now you see, honey, how these things are done. This is how to do them. The way I told you, honey, not the way you thought.” Firadeus gazes at Tamara, her eyes sweet as a mountain goat’s, without a trace of bitterness.
Ursula suddenly found a job. She was to work four hours a day. I don’t know exactly how it evolved, how the employer found her, or if it was the other way around. In short, Ursula was employed by an Arab importer. The Arab had been looking for a secretary who could write letters for him in German. Even in these dreadful times, when Arabs view Jews with disfavor, claim the Jews are displacing them, and try to dispose of the Jews through violent attacks and murder, they seek them out, because they can’t survive without them.
Ursula found a job with which to support herself, and her employer found her to be a peerless secretary. He had hired her to write letters, but she took on other tasks that contributed to his welfare and pleasure. He was an agent for foreign goods, which he also imported. He bought them from wholesalers, who obtained the goods from the factories. It was she who advised him to get the goods from the producers, i.e., from the factories the wholesalers dealt with. Among the products he imported were some thin tea biscuits, produced in the factory of an uncle of hers, her father’s brother. When the Nazis came, they confiscated the factory but allowed him to stay on, albeit in a minor position, because they couldn’t find anyone to replace him. Ursula wrote to him in the name of her employer, offering to represent him in Palestine and all the neighboring countries. In Jerusalem and throughout the land, these biscuits were already popular. When a customer asked for biscuits, the shopkeeper would suggest that brand. If not for the Orthodox, who are meticulous about dietary laws, all the biscuit factories in this country would have closed down. Even Orthodox shopkeepers can’t afford to ignore these Viennese biscuits, because the English have grown so fond of them.
Tamara invited Ursula out of friendship. When Ursula began to earn money, she began paying for room and board. She pays ten lirot a month for room and board, and she gives Firadeus half a lira for her services, apart from presents, such as a dress or shoes she no longer wears. These presents, which seem small, are significant to Firadeus and her friends. Even things that are not passed on directly – the things Firadeus finds in the trash or in the garbage after Ursula discards them – are noteworthy. Here is one example with many counterparts. Firadeus once found a small case made of soft, bright leather in the trash basket. When she opened it, she found a mirror set in a red frame. Assuming it had been thrown away by mistake, Firadeus put it on the table near Ursula’s bed. The next day, she found the mirror in the basket again. Firadeus wondered how such a lovely mirror got into the basket. She went and talked to Henrietta about it. She couldn’t talk to Ursula, because Ursula didn’t speak Hebrew and she herself didn’t speak German. Henrietta asked Ursula. Ursula said, “I have a better one, so I have no use for it.” Firadeus ended up with a mirror unlike anything her friends possessed. Even Tamara didn’t have such a mirror. Firadeus finds many treasures discarded by Ursula. She feels she must tell the lady of the house about some of these finds, because it doesn’t make sense to discard such lovely things. When Ursula values an object, of course, she holds on to it; otherwise, she throws it out.
Meanwhile, events are transpiring in the Herbst household that not everyone in the household is pleased with. It’s time for lunch. Everyone is hungry and anxious to eat, but lunch can’t be served, because Ursula isn’t there. They sit and wait until they can wait no longer, because of hunger and because of the dishes. If they put off eating, Henrietta or Tamara will have to do the dishes, since it’s impossible to ask Firadeus to stay and do them. They suddenly hear the sound of a car stopping at the house. A driver comes in and brings a note from Ursula, informing them that she won’t be back for lunch: her employer has invited her to eat with him at the King David Hotel. She hopes they will enjoy their meal without her. Ursula returns in the evening, in her employer’s car. She comes in and tells them what she ate and drank and everything that gentleman told her. He didn’t discuss politics, but his conversation was very pleasant. The Arabs have such elegant ways. They know how to order dinner, and they are equally adept with drinks. When you sit with a gentleman of that sort, watching him lift his glass and drink his fill, you are convinced that the notion that Arabs are forbidden to drink wine was fabricated by Christians or Jews. There is one problem: his brother-in-law, Abdullah, a partner in the business, who is trying to take it over and would like her to come and work for him. This would not be fair at all, since it was Mr. Mustafa who hired her, not Mr. Abdullah.
Meanwhile, everything proceeds in an orderly fashion. Ursula spends a given number of hours in Mustafa Effendi’s office, and they spend a given number of hours taking trips in his new car, which is more splendid than any other in the country. He shows her the city, its environs, his vineyards and gardens which produce fruit the likes of which she has never eaten before. She now understands that this is a truly blessed land. Despite all this, Ursula isn’t happy, because of Abdullah, Mustafa’s brother-in-law, who is trying to turn her against Mustafa and to convince her to come and work for him. She loathes the intrigue between the brothers-in-law and has decided that, unless the situation improves, she will quit. Even before she could quit, Tamara took her to the Histadrut, and she became a member. Which was extraordinary, for she was admitted, without excessive questioning, by an official who declared that such a competent worker should be working for us, not for others – certainly not for Arabs. This official was right to say tha
t Ursula ought to be working for one of our institutions. But our institutions are, in fact, overstaffed, employing many useless individuals who aren’t fired only because they might disclose information against whoever fires them, forcing those in charge to resign rather than risk public humiliation. Another reason why more officials aren’t fired: because the general population detests our institutions, and officials who are fired tend to make trouble. It has already happened that an official was caught cheating and was fired on ethical grounds. He was snatched up by another company, which he now directs, using his position to damage the institution he originally served.