by S. Y. Agnon
Yona Toyber had been one of Szybusz’s bright young lights who had trained to be rabbis in the old study house. On his way to Lemberg to receive his rabbinical degree, however, he had stopped at an inn where he saw a man reading a little geography book. Yona took one look at it and was amazed. How many cities and countries there were in the world whose names he did not even know! Since by the time he finished reading it himself he had run out of money, he returned home to Syzbusz without his degree and without even having seen Lemberg.
Although his newly acquired knowledge did not undermine his faith, it did bring out an unexpressed side of him. In the middle of one night he awoke, took a pen, inkpot, and paper, and stayed up writing until dawn. That same day a visitor was in Szybusz and Yona showed him what he had written. The man read it and sent it to Yosef Kohen Tsedek in Lemberg, who printed it in his Hebrew review The Eagle.
This article of Toyber’s was something of an enigma. If it was meant to be about geography, why all the homespun philosophy? And if it was meant to be about philosophy, why all the facts about geography? Yet back in the days when Yona Toyber was young and Yosef Kohen Tsedek edited The Eagle, a man’s philosophy turned up in the strangest places. Had Yona lived among the fanatical Hasidim, they would no doubt have burned his piece in a bonfire, as they did with anything not penned for the greater glory of God. In the old study house of Szybusz, however, where there was a tradition of high-minded inquiry going back to the days when pious Jews with an interest in worldly knowledge still had more piety than worldliness—that is, to those Bible critics and grammarians of the last century who, when they prayed, made sure to pronounce every letter of the ancient Hebrew correctly and not like most Jews who swallow all their words until the angels themselves cannot make head or tail of them—nothing wrong was seen in Yona Toyber’s article. On the contrary, it was spread out on the desks of the study house and parsed there verse by verse. Then, the conclusion having been reached that its grammar could not be faulted, Yona’s praises were publicly sung.
Though Yona Toyber never published anything else, nothing else was needed to assure his lasting fame. The Eagle’s wings drooped and folded, but Yona’s reputation persisted. Noted scholars had lived in Szybusz before him; their works had made a name both for themselves and for the town; yet none were as renowned as he was. And he was especially looked up to by the youth of the town, which was a place where young bachelors were not thought fit company for their elders, so that any married man paying attention to a youngster could win his heart at once, let alone Yona Toyber, who actually enjoyed strolling with the younger generation in the marketplace and talking to them as one talks to a friend.
After his own marriage Yona Toyber had been supported for a while by his father-in-law; yet once this arrangement came to an end he was left in sore straits. His first dowry had been lost by his brothers-in-law, who had borrowed it to do business in his name, while a second given him to make up for it was frittered away by himself. True, if not for that geography book, he could easily have found some rabbinical post and lived comfortably at the public expense. Yet what had been his undoing proved his salvation as well. It so happened that a certain wealthy man in Szybusz who wanted to marry his daughter to someone from another town had, impressed by Toyber’s book learning, asked him to write some letters of inquiry about the prospective groom, for which he paid him a matchmaker’s fee. Having been paid it, Yona was considered a matchmaker, and being considered a matchmaker, he managed to make a few matches. Which was why Tsirl, having noticed what was going on between Hirshl and Blume, had said to him, “If I could find a good match for my Hirshl, I’d marry him off right away.” And she even dropped a hint about Gedalia Ziemlich’s daughter, who bore, so she thought, looking into.
Hirshl was going on nineteen. Though neither as strong as Samson nor as brave as David, he was certainly good enough to serve the Kaiser. Younger and frailer boys than himself were already wearing uniforms and eating army messes. But Hirshl had no need to fear, for He who sent induction officers to Szybusz sent them the vice of avarice as well, so that whoever slipped them a sufficient consideration received a medical exemption. Once Dr. Knabenhut the elder, whose son Dr. Knabenhut the socialist still lived with him, had been the chief examiner; now that he was old his place had been taken by others, but they too had their price. Why then, if she was not worried about the draft board, did Tsirl say she wished to find a match for Hirshl before it came to Szybusz? Simply because the expression was a common one, events often being dated by whether they took place before or after the draft board arrived.
Gedalia Ziemlich came to Szybusz once a week. His village, Malikrowik, was not far from Szybusz, which was the market town for its wheat, the district capital for its taxes, and the shopping center for its provisions. As Gedalia’s whole family consisted of only three people—himself, his wife Bertha, and their daughter Mina—he did not have much shopping to do; yet his business in Szybusz was considerable nonetheless, for though the town’s district superintendents were not as easily bought off as their underlings, they had to be buttered up all the same. Bribing a department head differed from bribing a clerk: a junior official never objected to having his palm greased, whereas a senior one, as venal as he might be, could suddenly come down with an attack of nerves and throw one into prison for one’s pains. And so the practice was that, in the days before Christmas, the wives of such men would set a room aside to which one might bring a modest largesse. Gedalia Ziemlich was in the habit of giving baskets of fancy foodstuffs, which was how he and the Hurvitzes came to be friends, for if he was a generous customer, they saved him the trouble of wrapping and sending his own gifts. In the course of time the two men grew close and Boruch Meir’s store became Gedalia Ziemlich’s regular stopover in Szybusz. And not just his store, either; for, since not everything between them could be discussed in public, or on an empty stomach, they sometimes went upstairs to the Hurvitz home to have a cup of coffee. At one time this had been accompanied by a slice of fried bread; since Blume’s arrival, however, the coffee was drunk with a piece of such cake as she had learned to bake from her mother. Now and then Gedalia Ziemlich stayed to dine with the Hurvitzes too. And since, apart from weddings and other festivities, invitations to dinner were not the custom in Szybusz, such meals were a special occasion.
The year that Tsirl spoke to Yona Toyber about finding a match for Hirshl, Mina Ziemlich had begun to visit Szybusz by herself and to stop at the Hurvitzes, too. Indeed, Gedalia and Boruch Meir being such good friends, how could a daughter of Gedalia’s come to town without being invited to Boruch Meir’s? She would arrive in a buggy drawn by two horses and loaded with bundles, some of which, such as her dresses, hats, and shoes, were for her, and some of which, such as butter, cheese, and fruit, were for the Hurvitzes. After Tsirl had greeted her in front of the store and inquired after her parents, Stach the coachman unpacked the things and Mina went inside. There was an empty room in the Hurvitz house whose windows were never opened in summer because of the sun and in winter because of the cold, and in which, amid an odor of mothballs, stood some pile furniture that was covered all year round with white slipcovers against the dust. There Mina repaired to dab herself with cologne before going to see her friend Sophia Gildenhorn.
Chapter seven
It would be pointless to criticize Mina in order to praise Blume, for Mina too was a well-mannered and attractive young lady. Even though she had grown up in a village she had the graces of a city girl, having gone to a boarding school in Stanislaw where she learned to speak French, embroider, and play the piano, so that nothing about her so much as hinted that she was the daughter of country Jews. When she accompanied her parents to Szybusz, her elegance contrasting with their simplicity and her leisurely gait with their hurried one, one might have thought her the daughter of a Polish nobleman besieged by two Jewish peddlers. The transformation undergone by her was so complete that her own father and mother scarcely seemed to belong to her anymore. Not
that she was ashamed of them—it just could not be said that she was particularly proud of them either. She had other concerns, foremost among them how much longer she would have to stay in Malikrowik before returning to Stanislaw.
Spending the summer in the village had been an ordeal for her. Like other well-to-do students who spent their summer vacations in the country, Mina had come back to Malikrowik, yet she was not happy there. Perhaps she should have exchanged her city clothes for country ones, or perhaps she was simply used to the bustle of the city, which was so different from the village, where there was nothing to look at but chickens, cows, and trees, and every breeze stank of cow manure and milk and blew away your hat and mussed your hair. Not a day went by without her wishing that her vacation would already be over. Meanwhile, she came to Szybusz as often as she could. It may not have been Stanislaw, but at least it was a large town.
Although Mina had overheard her parents discussing a match for her, she had not bothered to express her opinion on the matter. True, her life belonged to her and her alone, but though she had friends younger than herself who were already married and friends older than herself who still were not, she knew, without being sure which of them were better off, that she could not live in a boarding school forever and that sooner or later, or at the latest later than that, she would have to get married too. In that case, what did it matter if it was sooner?
She had nothing against young Hirshl Hurvitz, whom her parents wished her to marry. If she judged him by his clothes, he was a modern enough young fellow, and if she judged him by his manners, he had plenty of them. No doubt there were other things to be desired in the man a girl pledged her heart to, but Mina was too inexperienced to know what these might be. It only surprised her a bit that, though she had been in his house several times, he had never talked to her about anything but the most ordinary matters. What kind of modern young man let his parents do all his wooing?
Yet if one could not exactly say that Hirshl Hurvitz was the young man of Mina’s dreams, neither could one say that he was not. Something about him attracted her. She herself did not know that it was the power of the inarticulate love that she felt for him whose heart was already pledged to another.
The days went by unobjectionably, each profitable in its own way. The only thing objectionable was Dr. Knabenhut, who had persuaded all the shop clerks to quit work at eight p.m. and to stop behaving like serfs.
Getzel Stein and his assistant, to be sure, were not enlisted in Knabenhut’s legions, but the pressure of the socialists was too much for them and, reluctant to break ranks, they now walked off the job at eight o’clock sharp and went home. One’s God-given compassion alone kept one from laughing in their faces, for what good did this do them? A more dismal place than their homes would be hard to find.
Indeed, when God is on one’s side all clouds have their silver linings. Despite her raving at Knabenhut for inciting her help to quit early, Tsirl was glad of it in the end, since once the two clerks were gone and Hirshl had left for the Society for Zion clubhouse, she and her husband had a chance to be alone at last. Just to be safe, they rolled down the shutter halfway. Customers wishing to buy learned to come earlier, while those wishing simply to chat turned around and went elsewhere. Even at the hour of nine o’clock there were thresholds in Szybusz that could be crossed without having to crawl on all fours.
And yet if the shutter was halfway down, the cash register was fully open. Boruch Meir and Tsirl sat in front of it counting the day’s take, arranging the bills in wads and the copper and silver in stacks.
Could there be a greater pleasure in life than sitting at night in one’s store with one’s profits laid out before one? One coin rose above another on the counter, and all was right with the world. Out in the muddy street the young couples went muddily by. If one’s hearing was good, one could make out their heartbeats in their footsteps. Ah, how many more long nights of courting like these did they still have ahead of them, nor was the outcome certain even then! Meanwhile, one sat with one’s wife in one’s store amid a fragrance of cinnamon, figs, and raisins. A last parting trace of the warmth of the sun lingered on in these fruits, which retained it even dried and packed in crates.
Silently Tsirl and Boruch Meir sat listening. What could they be straining to hear? A line of a song sung in faraway climes by the planters of such southern vines and trees? The last echo of a kiss that a shepherd gave his love beneath them?
There were people in Szybusz who swore that the apogee of true love was a certain rich lady in town who had run off with her butler and refused to return to her imploring husband even though her new lover beat her. There were others who told you to look for it in the person of the unrepentant Mottshi Shaynbart, who had lost his leg chasing after a woman and now had a wooden one in its place. Still others insisted that only the man driven out of his senses by passion could claim to be love’s acolyte. In each of these cases, the passion for love misled them about love itself.
Tsirl and Boruch Meir, in any event, had no time for such diversions. Boruch Meir never pretended to be Tsirl’s lover, and Tsirl never drove Boruch Meir out of his senses. He simply was as happy with her as she was with him. Their days passed in the making of money, and if now and then they chose to rest from it, they generally did so in silence.
Yet sometimes their silence was broken. When one has been hard at work, a bit of conversation can be welcome.
“You know,” said Tsirl, putting down the coins she held, “no matter how far ahead you try to look, you never can look very far. If you’re wondering what’s on my mind, it’s Gedalia Ziemlich’s daughter. I do believe that she’s suited for Hirshl, don’t you?”
Boruch Meir was not in the habit of contradicting his wife. Sometimes he would simply repeat what she had said and sometimes he would add a few words of confirmation. A tiny something in Tsirl’s voice, which Boruch Meir was every bit as fond of as he had been during their first year of marriage, still reminded him of that year. Yet now that she had raised so momentous a question regarding his son’s life, Boruch Meir hesitated, played with his gold watch chain, shut his eyes, and took time out to mull the matter over. Unlike his father-in-law, who had been able to think unassisted, Boruch Meir needed to concentrate on his watch chain.
Tsirl looked at him. This too was a sign of the times. Her father could read a man’s thoughts blindfolded, but Tsirl liked to see whom she was talking to. Besides, it was a good opportunity to study her husband without his being aware of it.
At last Boruch Meir opened his eyes, let go of the watch chain, and said, “We’d better see what Toyber thinks about it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of depriving Toyber of a livelihood,” said Tsirl, “but I wanted to hear what you thought first.”
“Ziemlich,” said Boruch Meir, “has money. That’s undeniable.”
“And Mina?” asked Tsirl.
“Mina,” said Boruch Meir, “is a lovely girl. That’s undeniable too. It’s just…”
“Just what?” asked Tsirl.
“Just that in matters like these,” said Boruch Meir, “you don’t really need me. I believe you’re a better judge of them than I am.”
“We’re in perfect agreement, Boruch Meir,” said Tsirl.
“So what now?” asked Boruch Meir.
“Now,” said Tsirl, “the time has come to talk to Toyber.’
“That’s just what I said,” said Boruch Meir.
“So you did, Boruch Meir,” said Tsirl. “I only wanted to know what you thought about it first.”
“We’re in perfect agreement, Tsirl,” said Boruch Meir.
“A person should always seek advice,” said Tsirl. “No one should make important decisions all by himself. One person will tell you this, another will tell you that, and little by little things sort themselves out. But just so you don’t think I’ve been up to anything behind your back, I had better tell you that I’ve already spoken to Toyber.”
“And what did he say?” asked Boruch
Meir.
“As if you didn’t know Toyber.”
“I’d still like to know what he said.”
“He didn’t say anything. He left the store.”
Boruch Meir rubbed his hands contentedly and said, “Toyber just stood there and said nothing?”
“And left the store.”
“Where did he go?”
“I personally,” said Tsirl, “did not follow him. But I heard that he was in Malikrowik.”
“And what did he do there—say some more nothing?” asked Boruch Meir.
“That,” said Tsirl, “is something we can ask him when he comes for his matchmaker’s fee.”
“Oh, we most certainly shall,” said Boruch Meir, rubbing his hands together.
Blume saw what she saw and came to her own conclusions about Mina’s visits. Although she had heard nothing definite, something told her what was happening.
She was surprised at herself for not feeling angry or bitter. But just as it was pointless to berate herself when her fate was still in her hands, so it was senseless to feel aggrieved when she saw clearly what must be done. And the first thing to do was to change her situation before Mina’s family arrived for the betrothal and she was made to wait on them. One way or another, she would have to look for another job.
One day, when Hirshl went down to the cellar to tap the wine barrel, his mother followed him. She’s snooping on me to see if I’m having a rendezvous with Blume, he told himself. It infuriated him to be suspected of such a thing. He felt ashamed of his mother’s meanness for even thinking it and pretended not to notice her. I’m afraid I’ll just have to disappoint her, he thought angrily.
Tsirl shut the cellar door behind her. “Hirshl,” she said, “I want to talk to you.” She groped her way toward him. “Why don’t you say something?”