Two Tales: Betrothed & Edo and Enam Page 3

  Their little circle had come into being in the way of all circles. At first, Rechnitz had formed the habit of taking Leah Luria for walks. She had intended to go to Berlin on a visit to her relatives, and was therefore learning German from Jacob. Since conversational practice was all that she needed, they would take their lessons as they strolled by the shore. When her visit to Berlin was canceled, however, they continued their walks; and now Rachel Heilperin began to join them, for Rachel was Leah’s friend, and her father was one of the trustees of Jacob’s school, who would bring Rechnitz over to his home for “an olive or two.” After that, Asnat Magargot attached herself, and then Raya Zablodovsky and her cousin from St. Petersburg. But when the cousin began writing verses to her, she broke with him and brought Mira Vorbzhitsky instead, and Mira brought along Tamara Levi, who was previously acquainted with Rechnitz because when he first came to the country, he had lived next door. Thus the “Seven Planets” were constituted; and as seven planets they admitted no others, lest they lose claim to the title.

  VI

  One day before Hanukah a letter from Africa came for Jacob Rechnitz. It was from Herr Gotthold Ehrlich. For a year now the Consul and his daughter had been on their travels, and since they were returning by way of Egypt, they wished to visit the Holy Land, and Jerusalem the Holy City.

  Rechnitz was delighted at the news. First, because he would see the Consul again. Secondly, because this would give him a chance to make some small return for much kindness. He did not want a great deal for himself, but one thing he desired was to show gratitude to his benefactor. Now, with the Consul’s coming visit, Jacob could assume the role of a host and be of service to his guest.

  He began to make all sorts of plans. First, he told himself, he would take a leave from school, so as to be free to show the Consul his country – Sharon, Galilee, the Jewish people tilling their soil. In his excitement, he forgot that the Consul had written expressly of his intention to spend only five or six days in Palestine; in five or six days one could scarcely take in more than the view a bird has of the sea.

  In this time of waiting Rechnitz kept calling up memories of the Consul and his wife, their home and their hospitality. Again he saw himself walking with Shoshanah, picking flowers in the garden and plaiting them together, or sliding on the ice of the garden pond. In his thoughts all the seasons merged, and all the goodness and grace in them became one. How many summers and winters had passed since then? Now the villa was locked up, the table was deserted, and the fruit and flowers of the garden were for no one to see. Frau Ehrlich was dead, and Shoshanah was traveling about the world with her father, who since his bereavement had found no rest, but sought distraction in the very things that leave a man no peace, in constant journeys and wanderings from land to land. Rechnitz remembered the day of the funeral, the black hearse piled high with flowers, swaying slightly as it moved, and Shoshanah following with the black veil over her face. Now, however hard he tried, he could not picture her as a grown woman. But sometimes the veil would lift to reveal her again as a child, running on tiptoe, chasing butterflies in the garden, and threading them into a chain of flowers around her head. How many years had gone, how many years had come, but Jacob still recalled her unforgettable whimsy.

  VII

  The Consul did not disappoint Rechnitz. He came just when he was expected. One day as Jacob entered the school staff-room he saw awaiting him there a well-dressed, elderly man, accompanied by a tall and attractive girl. After Jacob had greeted his benefactor, or perhaps even before, Shoshanah offered him her warm, finely-shaped hand and spoke to him as an old friend, using the intimate du and looking at him as if she still saw before her the boy he had once been. And yet in her glance there was inquiry as well as remembrance, as of a person seeking to compare present and past. He found himself embarrassed. It had never occurred to him that Shoshanah might address him in terms of easy intimacy. With the beating of his heart and this sense of embarrassment he could not return her gaze. He too thought back to the past, yet without comparing the Shoshanah of those days to the Shoshanah who stood before him now.

  Rechnitz had made so many plans for the day of the Consul’s arrival; he had seen himself planning everything for the Consul’s benefit and pleasure, informing the Consul of arrangements for this day and the next. But now, as he stood facing his benefactor, the plans were all gone from his head, and it was he who waited for directions. The Consul took his watch from his pocket, remarked that it was lunch time and asked Jacob if he were free to join them at their meal. So Jacob followed their lead, sometimes walking to the left of the Consul and sometimes behind Shoshanah, until they reached the hotel.

  This was situated in the German Quarter, not far from Rechnitz’s school, where it stood in a wide, pleasant garden. There were shrubs and flowers and well grown trees as well as two large citrus groves that extended from the school to the edge of the quarter. Rechnitz had often walked in the garden, alone or with one of his female companions.

  Once again, Jacob was a guest at the Consul’s table. And although this was not the old home, nor was Frau Gertrude Ehrlich there to preside, he behaved much as he had in the past. He took good care of his manners, and did not rush to speak until he was spoken to. When Herr Ehrlich asked how he was doing he raised his head, and, looking him in the eyes, replied, “I am an instructor in one of the Jewish schools, where I teach a little German and Latin. The salary isn’t high, but it’s as much as I need since rent is low, food is cheap, and there’s no need to spend much on dress: not even the rich do that. This country teaches people to be satisfied with very little and I am satisfied too. What is more, I have found a few intelligent people who, though not scientists themselves, have respect for a man of science.” At this point Rechnitz blushed, for he had included himself among “men of science.”

  “And what of your research work?” asked Ehrlich. Rechnitz replied, “Here there is time for everything; even for useless things, such as my research.”

  Herr Ehrlich seemed pleased with his answer, which showed at once some knowledge of the world’s attitude and a readiness to carry on with his work, and after all somebody ought to have a look into such matters, for Rechnitz’s work might have its uses. Shoshanah sat wrapped up in herself. She may or may not have been listening. At least her eyes did not question the value of Rechnitz’s work.

  Ehrlich poured a glass of wine for Rechnitz and took one himself, saying, “We happened to meet an old scholar on our travels, a professor with a lot of abstruse knowledge. Once I picked up a strange-looking plant from the sea and showed it to him. He said, ‘This plant was unknown until a young Austrian research worker stationed in Jaffa discovered it. It’s called after him Caulerpa Rechnitzia.’ Now you are an Austrian, you live in Jaffa, and Rechnitz is your name. Could you be that very man? – Herr Doktor, I am very happy that your reputation leads you to be mentioned in out-of-the-way places. Take up your glass, let’s drink to your good health and the success of your research!”

  Jacob lowered his head and fumbled for the glass, which Shoshanah took up and placed in his hand. Again she sat back in her place. Apart from passing him some dish from time to time, she paid no attention to him. Jacob thought to himself, Evidently she is sorry that she greeted me so warmly at first.

  The waiter came up and set before each of them a small cup of black coffee. The aroma mounted. It reminded him of his room, where he would read alone over his drink with nobody’s eyes upon him. He looked down at the coffee. A pale, brownish foam bubbled up on its surface. The foam was full of little eyes that flickered like sparks.

  “Don’t you take sugar?” asked the Consul.

  “Oh yes,” Jacob answered, but still forgot to take any.

  Shoshanah picked up the silver tongs, secured a lump and dropped it into his cup. “Another?” she asked, and caught a second lump.

  “Thank you,” he said, and began to wonder whether the instinct to recoil from what harms us would not hold Shoshanah back; for if t
he sugar fell into the full cup, the coffee would spill over. Then again it seemed to him that this was the first lump after all, there was no need to fear, for when the coffee was poured allowance must surely have been made for the sugar.

  The Consul took out his cigar case, offered a cigar to Jacob and chose one for himself. Taking Rechnitz’s arm he strolled up and down with him, while the smoke rose up until their cigars were half burnt out, though ash still stood on the tips. The Consul halted in the middle of the lounge, removed his ash, and said, “So here we are, seated together again.” Suiting action to word, he walked across to the sofa and sat down opposite Shoshanah, settling Jacob beside him on his right.

  He looked across at his daughter, then turned to Jacob, saying, “I’m sure you are busy in the afternoon, so come around this evening and we’ll dine together. Wouldn’t that be nice, Shoshanah?”

  Shoshanah inclined her head in agreement. Evidently her mind was not on what she was doing, but all the same the gesture, however unaware, was pleasant to see.

  Actually Rechnitz was free that afternoon, but since the Consul had declared him to be busy he could hardly contradict him. He recalled something he had read in some book of philosophy: how those motions of the soul that urge us on cannot bring us to act without the help of other, external factors. And if these external factors do not collaborate, all the motions of our soul are vain, and lead only to inner confusion. Rechnitz could indeed have consoled himself in the knowledge that he would be returning for supper; but he found no comfort in this, for the barren hours seemed to stretch on endlessly till evening.

  Stripped of all cheer, he walked away from the hotel. He said to himself: Since they are here, I will do everything I can. But if they go, let them go. I will have a clear mind again. Why give myself needless cares? What is needless is not needed. I shall try to do what is right, and that is enough. Don’t blame me, Shoshanah, if you were mistaken in me, if you thought I still deserved the love you had for me once. We aren’t children at play anymore, but grown persons who have known the years. What a pity we aren’t happy now!

  VIII

  A free afternoon. On free days, or at least on free afternoons, Rechnitz would stay in his room, make coffee for himself and read a book. When he had had enough of reading, he would get up to sort out his specimens, or take a walk by the shore in search of new ones. But today he felt no inclination to go home. He had already had coffee, and that deprived him of half his satisfaction, which lay in the pleasure of preparation. He would put the pot on to heat, watch the flames rise through the perforations in the burner and envelop the pot, while the water bubbled and boiled, rose and fell, and he would shake the coffee grounds down on the water and smell the aroma that filled his room. The only alternative was to walk by the sea. Yet a walk by the sea did not appeal to him much. He had overeaten at the hotel; perhaps, too, he felt weighted down by the wine he had drunk. Some of the things he had said in the Consul’s presence came back to his mind, and although he didn’t exactly find fault with them, an unaccountable sadness took hold of him. His fancy wandered and returned, but he lacked the power to center his thoughts on one subject.

  Leah Luria came by and saw Rechnitz alone. “Sir, you stand in the markets of Jaffa as if the world were yours,” she said.

  Rechnitz buttoned up his coat and replied, “I feel more as if there were no place for me in the world.”

  Leah stared at him with her two fine eyes. “I hope to God that nothing has gone wrong, Doctor.” Her voice was full of distress and concern, and a will to hit upon some good advice or suggestion. Her face, too, spoke of a longing to advise him, to save him from trouble.

  Rechnitz shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong at all, but when a man finds himself idle in the middle of the day, then he surely doesn’t know what to do.”

  Leah said, “If a walk is something to do, we can walk for a while; only I promised to call on Rachel Heilperin. Let’s go over to her place, perhaps she will come too.” She looked at the watch on her wrist. “She must be waiting for me now. Would you come with me?”

  Rechnitz answered with a little singsong, “And why not?”

  She laughed. “Let’s go, then.”

  “Come on.” It hardly mattered whether he walked with one or with both of them, so long as it made his heart a little lighter.

  Even though Leah Luria had given up studying German conversation when she gave up her trip to Berlin the year before, she and Jacob still kept to their walks. Anyone who saw them together would say that there went a perfect couple. And perhaps Jacob and Leah thought the same, each in his own way; except that Jacob thought similarly, or not very differently, about himself and Rachel Heilperin, and perhaps about himself and another, as we shall soon see. And perhaps these others, too, were of the same opinion, each in her own fashion.

  Leah was not very young; she was already twenty-three or four. Her features were full, her face was neither too long nor too round, her forehead was smooth. She had ash-blonde hair and a full body, which she carried with such dignity as to impress everyone she met. She herself could never understand the attentions she received, and her manner suggested surprise; while, out of fear that she might bore her companions, she spoke little. Yet this very reticence added to her charm; for she gave the impression that if only she were to speak, one would hear words of wisdom. Her complexion was on the dark side; she wore a bright turquoise dress with a light chain round her neck, and thick-soled country shoes which added to her height and loosened her stride. Her arms were round and warm, her eyes seemed pleased at all you did. And even though these eyes might at first appear to be astonished, it was clear in the end that they approved of whatever you did. Why, you may ask, had Leah not found her partner in life? Because Rachel was the more beautiful girl. Tall and slender as a palm tree, to use the biblical image, without an ounce of fat on her flesh. Her eyes would light up occasionally, though for the most part they expressed chill indifference, and her lips would smile in such a way that you would gladly give her your heart, even before she took it for herself. Why then had Rachel not found her partner? Perhaps because of Leah, who demanded nothing of you, and in demanding nothing, led you to want to give her all. The reason for this is not as clear as it might be, but despite the confusion, it works strangely on the soul.

  IX

  Rachel and Leah were girls of good family, whose fathers had their place in the history of the Zionist Return. One of them was a correspondent of the great Ahad Ha’Am, who addressed him as “My esteemed friend.” The other’s opinions carried weight with the Odessa Council, and even with Lilienblum and Ussishkin.

  Much had happened in the lives of both men. Yehiel Luria, the father of Leah, had begun as a yeshiva student, devoting himself to the Torah in the traditional fashion; at times for its own sake, at times for the security afforded by a rabbi’s life, at times for the prestige it carried, and at times because he could imagine no possible way of life without the Torah. But winds of change began to blow through the yeshiva walls; among them, a purifying wind that brought new promise of national revival. The students of the yeshiva began to speak of God’s prophecies, of the return to Zion and the sprouting of the horn of salvation for the house of Israel in the Holy Land. Some of them were later to betray their own words; others had the privilege of fulfilling in their lives what they sought after in their hearts. And when Yehiel heard that in the Land of Israel there were Jews who lived upon the soil, he resolved to go there and fulfill the Torah through working the land. He saw himself joining a settlement and becoming a farmer, sowing seed with one hand and holding his Talmud in the other; or following the plough with his copy of the Jerusalem Talmud resting upon it, thus at once fulfilling the Torah of the Land of Israel and the working of its soil. When his time came to be drafted into the Tsar’s army, he fled for the Land of Israel and entered one of the yeshivas in Jerusalem. He had thus achieved the merit of following the Torah; but not of fulfilling it through toil, for the yeshivas were remote f
rom the pioneer community in spirit, and work on the land was considered profane by the people of Jerusalem. He went on with his studies, much as he had done outside the country, except that there he had had great hopes for his life in the Land of Israel, whereas in the Holy Land itself half his hopes were gone. And now he was a married man and father of a daughter; he began to think hard of the practical future. He took what remained of his wife’s dowry and went into business. The result was that he lost her money and was left with nothing but the Torah he had learned, and even that was not all it should have been. Once, however, he happened to accompany a collector of donations and tithes who was making his rounds of the settlements. He saw the Jewish people at work in the fields and vineyards, and although in those days the settlers were held in ill repute among the people of Jerusalem, Yehiel ignored all this and hired himself out to one of the farmers. He turned himself into a working man, and suffered what had to be suffered, and rejoiced that at last he had been privileged to till the holy soil. But not long afterwards, the farmers of the settlements assigned their land to Baron Rothschild’s officials, and all the joy was gone from their work. Yehiel went away to another place, and then to yet another, until his wanderings brought him to upper Galilee, where he became a teacher. He spent himself in that effort, but received no satisfaction from it, for his pupils did not respond to what he tried to teach. So he left his school and went down to Jaffa, and with the help of his wife’s relatives in Berlin started a shop for spades, pruning hooks and other tools needed on the land. Anyone coming from the villages found in him a friend and comrade and a good counselor.

  Very different was the story of Boris Heilperin, Rachel’s father. From early childhood he had received a modern education, and when he finished his studies, he became manager of a brickyard. His home was a meeting place for the Lovers of Zion, and later, for the “Political Zionists.”