Two Tales: Betrothed & Edo and Enam Page 8

  “And yet you are, both of us are, young enough, with all our life before us.”

  “But that life before us, do you think it’s going to be any better than the life that lies behind?”

  “I haven’t thought much about that,” said Jacob.

  “Neither have I,” said Shoshanah.

  “Then what grounds have you for saying what you did?”

  “What did I say?”

  “You know what you said.”

  “Just idle talk,” said Shoshanah.

  And Jacob too felt melancholy. This is the girl who wants to be my wife, he reflected. He felt restive as he considered her. This girl wants me to marry her, he thought again. And even while he pondered, he realized that without her the whole world would be lost to him.

  The sound of voices startled Jacob. “People are coming!” Shoshanah nodded and replied, “It’s Papa with the old Baron.” As they approached, the Consul broke into a ribald laugh. Apparently the old man had just told him an off-color story. The laughter struck Jacob’s ears unpleasantly; he had always known the Consul as a serious-minded man, yet here he was behaving frivolously. Shoshanah stood up and said, “Let’s go.”

  They walked away together. A little girl came by with a basket in her hand. Jacob turned to her. “What are you doing here?” he said. The little girl answered, “My Mommy sent me to get some lemons.” He bent down and swung her in the air. “Sweetheart, I’d love to carry you off. You and your basket together. Tell me, what would your Mommy say if I carried you away?” The child answered solemnly, “Mommy wouldn’t like it.” Jacob laughed. “Tell your mother that you’re a clever little girl.” “Yes, I’ll tell her,” she replied.

  “Whose charming child is that?” asked Shoshanah.

  “She’s the sister of a girl I teach.”

  “One of those you were walking with here in the garden?”

  Jacob hesitated a little. “You saw those two girls; how did they strike you?”

  “They’re very lovely,” said Shoshanah.

  “Does that mean that you approve of them?”

  “If you think well of them,” replied Shoshanah, “so do I.”

  “I don’t know how to take that.”

  “I mean just what I said. But you have other friends besides, haven’t you? Tell me about them.”

  Jacob began to tell her. When he had got round to describing Tamara, Shoshanah looked at him rather closely.

  The two old men were coming back, the Baron laughing raucously. This time, it would seem, the Consul had capped his story with a spicier one.

  “So you’re here, you two?” said the Consul.

  “Yes,” answered Shoshanah, and went on to praise Jacob for his kindness in calling a carriage and bringing her back to the hotel.

  “Happy is he who finds a good escort,” said the Baron, and he cast a benevolent glance on Jacob.

  “But aren’t you cold, Shoshanah?” asked the Consul.

  “No, I’m neither too cold nor too warm. I’m quite happy, Papa.”

  The Consul looked at his daughter for a moment and went off with the Baron. At Shoshanah’s suggestion, she and Jacob sat down again together.

  “Once,” said Shoshanah, “I dreamed that I was dead. I wasn’t happy, I wasn’t sad, but my body felt such rest as no one knows in the land of the living. And this was the best of it, that I wanted nothing, I asked for nothing, it just felt as if I were disappearing into blue distances that would never end. Next morning I opened a book and read in it that nobody dreams of himself as dead. If that’s so, perhaps it was not a dream but wide-awake reality. But then, how can I be alive after my death? It’s a puzzle to me, Jacob. Do you believe in the resurrection of the dead?”

  “No, certainly not,” Jacob said.

  “Don’t say ‘certainly.’ These certainties of yours bring me to tears.” As she spoke, she closed her eyes.

  At that moment, Shoshanah seemed to hover over those blue distances she had spoken of. Then suddenly she answered Jacob’s gaze. She took out her handkerchief, wiped her eyes, opened them and looked at him with absolute love. After a while, she said, “I am going to close my eyes and you, Jacob, are to kiss me on the eyelids.”

  Jacob’s own eyes filled with tears. With the tears still there, he placed his lips on her wet lashes.

  XXIII

  Everything good happens when your attention is turned the other way. So it was with Rechnitz. An elderly scholar in New York, with whom Rechnitz had exchanged specimens of seaweed, had suggested the creation of an academic chair for him; the suggestion had been taken up and now Rechnitz received a written offer. Even though he had already won himself a high reputation, Rechnitz had not expected anything like this, for he was still a young man and aware that he had many superiors in the field.

  He was lying on his couch that morning mid-way between sleep and waking. His thoughts went off in various directions without his knowing where they were heading. There are times when a man’s limbs are still and his mind is at rest, and there are times when his mind goes wandering and carries back many thoughts. There are times when the limbs are still but find no rest or the mind goes wandering but carries back no thought and no idea. Yet again, both states may exist together: the mind goes wandering and the limbs are still, and a man finds neither rest in his limbs nor thought in his mind. Rechnitz wanted to get up from his couch but knew it would be useless. And so he had yielded to this kind of lethargy that brings no benefit, when he heard someone knocking on his door. He jumped up, opened the door, and there was the postman with a letter. Rechnitz received it with a groan, as if he had been interrupted in some important undertaking. The postman slung his bag over his shoulder and went away; Rechnitz opened his letter and read it. Certainly this was good news, and would have been so even if he had been expecting the appointment. All the more so when it came as a surprise.

  Rechnitz always offered thanks for any benefits that came his way, sometimes to the good gods, sometimes to the Only One. Now he was silent and said no prayer, but whatever it was that had dulled his mind before now passed away completely.

  He dressed and went to call on someone whose English was better than his. Actually there was no need, since he already knew what the letter was about. Nor did this man tell him anything new. But his eyes widened with surprise and he reached out his hand to Rechnitz, saying, “Congratulations, Professor!”

  Perhaps Rechnitz was more moved by this response than he had been by the occasion for it. Possibly, too, the man he consulted was more excited about the news than Rechnitz himself. Before the day was out all Jaffa knew that a young fellow who taught at the school had gained an unheard of distinction. For in those days honor paid to learning still counted among ordinary people; all the more so when the honor carried with it a good salary. How many scholars were there who didn’t even get as far as a university post, and here was an ordinary young teacher promoted to be a full professor!

  In Rechnitz’s time, a number of scholars had already settled in the Land of Israel. Of these, some were engaged in research in Palestinology, others in biblical studies. They had this in common: they made their studies an adjunct to interests outside the field of pure scientific learning, such as national, religious or social causes. Some of them were internationally famous and their opinions were generally accepted until the intellectual climate changed and new scholars came to the fore. As for Rechnitz, he subordinated his work to no other consideration. He took trouble and pains solely in the cause of pure knowledge. All seasons were the same to him. A storm outside or blazing sunshine never kept him back. Besides collecting marine plants from the sea off Jaffa, he collected them, too, off the coasts of Haifa, off Acre, Hadera and Caesarea, since the plants in the sea around Jaffa differ from those in other regions. And here we must remember that Rechnitz had found no professional colleague in the country and did his work in solitude. This isolation, which may lead to slackness, can prove a blessing to the true scholar, for if he makes some new d
iscovery he clarifies its meaning all to himself and does not waste his time in superfluous discussions. With the vigor of youth, with keen intellect and a discriminating eye, Rechnitz studied, investigated and assembled minute details as well as general principles, constructing from these a complete system. This ability to see and observe was matched by his ability to set out his observations in writing. His “Remarks on the Nature of Cyrenean Seaweeds,” and even more so, those on Cerulean Seaweeds, made his reputation. And at the conference of zoologists and botanists, most of the lecturers referred to him; even those who disagreed with his views accorded him high praise.

  Jaffa was getting more and more excited over the affair. People who had nothing to do with universities were talking about this young Ph.D. who had been appointed a professor. Everyone who came across Rechnitz, whether an acquaintance of his or not, would stop to congratulate him. His actual acquaintances invited him to take a drink in honor of the occasion, and wherever he went he found a holiday spread awaiting him. Here too we should remark that whatever people did was done in honor of science, for the parents of daughters knew well that now Rechnitz was a professor the Consul would never let go of him.

  What is more, the daughters themselves knew that from the day of Shoshanah Ehrlich’s arrival in Jaffa, Rechnitz had made himself scarce, especially now that he was getting ready to leave. Nevertheless, they retained their affection for him. Leah sent him more flowers of the kind she had given him for the Ehrlich girl on that first day. Tamara baked a cake for him in the shape of a boat and set on it a little American flag made of sugar. Even Rachel Heilperin put herself out so far as to write him a letter of congratulation; and this was no small matter, for although she could speak with much fluency, when she sat down to write she got stuck on the very first phrase. Should one write “My dear sir,” or “Dear Dr. Rechnitz,” or “My very dear friend Mr. Rechnitz”?

  As for Rechnitz, the expression of people’s good wishes moved him deeply. Imagine, even the school Secretary, who had seemed to bear a grudge against him, was as pleased at this success as if it had been his own. Needless to say, Rechnitz’s colleagues at school were delighted. In a sense they were happy for his sake, in a sense for their own; for here was one of their number, a fellow-teacher, who had gained this honor, so that it became theirs as well. And what an honor! From the time of Nietzsche until the time of Rechnitz, no young man in such a position had been appointed professor.

  For the most part, Rechnitz left matters concerning his new appointment for time to settle. He returned to his normal life as though nothing had happened, except that now he began to learn English and to occupy himself with some matters which previously would not have received much attention.

  XXIV

  Rechnitz could see that Shoshanah’s father knew what had passed between the two of them. A girl like Shoshanah was not used to concealing her actions. But it was doubtful whether her father knew just how things stood, since Shoshanah’s outlook was different from his own and she would certainly see the situation not as it was but as her heart pictured it. Even if she had told her father all, it was unlikely that he grasped the root of the matter. However that may have been, Jacob did not find a suitable pretext for speaking to him about what had happened, and he regretted this and yet was somewhat glad of it, since he feared that the Consul might call him to account. Just as he found no pretext for talking things over with the Consul, so he found no words to address to Shoshanah. It was not that she avoided him, but that she showed him no overt sign of good will. Or if she indeed wished him well, she gave him no opportunity for speaking out. How was it that Shoshanah managed to put him off; how was it that he could not bring himself to speak? Only because when they were together their conversation never led up to that principle point; when he parted from her, there he was in just the same position as the day before and the day before that. What should I do? he would think. What should I do? But since no answer was forthcoming, he would leave this for time to decide. It should be said that Rechnitz was not particularly passive, but since he knew the decision was not his alone, he left it for the moment when Shoshanah would play her part.

  The Consul and his daughter did not continue with their travels. It was clear that they meant to settle down, and now there was a coming and going of house agents carrying plans of apartments and houses. When Rechnitz saw these people he felt ashamed. He had boasted about the kind of person the Consul would find in the Land of Israel and now he had to admit that there were some Jews there who did not belong to the “spiritual center.” But the Consul found no fault with them. A man had to live and what else could these poor devils do in a poverty-stricken country? When a bit of profit was coming their way, they would twist their words and tell lies whether they wanted to or not.

  Meanwhile the Consul and his daughter stayed on in the hotel. Two or three times a week Rechnitz was invited to join them for a meal, sometimes for lunch, sometimes for dinner. When Shoshanah was not present, her father would say to Jacob, “The child is tired, she has a headache.” And his tone was sadder than the words suggested.

  One day a strange thing happened. The three of them were seated together talking; Shoshanah suddenly fell silent and dropped off to sleep in the middle of what she was saying. At first Rechnitz thought she had merely closed her eyes, as she sometimes did in the course of conversation. The next day Jacob saw old Dr. Hofmann walking out of the hotel together with Herr Ehrlich. After the doctor had taken his leave, the Consul noticed Rechnitz. “So you’re here?” he said, and then, “Sit down Jacob, sit down,” and then, “Today we shall take our meal without Shoshanah. She has a headache.” Many times before, the Consul had sat down to his meal without his daughter; now he behaved as if this were something new, and as distressing as it was new.

  Over their meal, the Consul made a special effort to entertain his guest, as if Shoshanah’s absence imposed upon him a double duty of hospitality. When they had finished, he drew Jacob over to the sofa at the end of the lounge and talked to him about the United States and New York and the chair which awaited him there, as well as about Kaiser Wilhelm’s project for teacher-exchanges between universities.

  “I have never asked you,” said the Consul, “what led you to your special field of interest?”

  Jacob answered, “I was doing botanical studies and from botany I came to work on water plants; that’s to say, I turned from higher to lower species of plants, and so to marine vegetation.” As he spoke Jacob forgot that there had been another reason besides this.

  “And do these plants,” said the Consul, “also have their characteristic diseases?”

  Rechnitz replied, “There isn’t a single thing in creation that is not liable to disease.”

  Suddenly Jacob’s eyes grew round with wonder. A new perspective opened up beyond the one he saw before him, like the vision of a painter struggling to apprehend what his eyes have never seen. The pond in the Consul’s garden, whose water plants used to fascinate and amaze him, came back into his memory. Perhaps, after all, his heart had been drawn to these plants since those very days? Twenty years and more had passed since he had first gone down with Shoshanah to the pond and drawn up the wet vegetation; the strange thing about it was that in all those years the thought had never come back into his mind. At that moment he saw before his eyes the same circular pond set in the garden among the shrubs and flowers, with Shoshanah picking flowers and braiding garlands; now Shoshanah jumped into the pond and disappeared; and now she rose again, covered with wet seaweed like a mermaid, the water streaming from her hair. As he thought of her hair, he thought, too, of how on that same day Shoshanah had taken a curl from her curls and, with it, a lock of his forelock, and mingled them and burned them together and they had eaten the ashes and sworn to be faithful to each other. Like the ashes of her hair and of his own which Shoshanah had intermingled, so the day of their vow was blended with the day by the sea when she had reminded him of it. As Jacob sat reflecting, the Consul took out his watch
and said, “You look tired. No need to be ashamed of it. A young man like you needs plenty of sleep.”

  When Jacob got up to leave, the Consul said, “I can see that I shall not be staying here long. Perhaps we shall soon be leaving for Vienna. But as long as we are here we shall be happy to have your company any time at all.”

  Jacob asked in a low voice, “How is Shoshanah’s health?”

  The Consul looked at him hard and answered, “If I only knew!” And again he looked at him as if he knew more than he would say.

  XXV

  What Shoshanah’s father did not tell him, others did. A grave affliction had overtaken her, a sickness which had not been heard of before in the Land of Israel. Her head was dizzy and she had lost full control of her legs, which tottered as she moved about. When she spoke, her voice was indistinct and sounded like someone talking in his sleep; indeed, her only desire was for sleep. She would doze off at any time, on any occasion, in the midst of conversation, while walking or while taking a meal. Sometimes she would sleep for days on end, and after waking up would fall asleep again. Zablodovsky the doctor, Raya’s father, said, “This disease seems so suspicious to me that I hesitate to call it by its name. The Ehrlich girl has come from a geographical region which leads me to fear that we have here a case of sleeping sickness. I could bring evidence to support what I say by means of a blood test, but from the symptoms themselves I should say that she has been bitten by a poisonous insect. The patient, I hear, sleeps a great deal, even for days on end; she eats and drinks after awakening, and there is a marked change in her disposition, for she was always full of life and is now apathetic. Perhaps you will say, ‘But her appearance has not changed and she is no less beautiful than before.’ But when I was a medical student didn’t I see sufferers from this disease in its early stages who kept their normal appearance for several months without change? If we waste no time in treating the disease at its outset, we can still control it and cure her. There are certain mineral salts, derived from precious metals, which we can inject into the body until the poison is exhausted and the patient’s health restored.”