Lawrence Durrell - Judith

“Of course,” he repeated excitedly. “You simply must. But surely it was all to be expected? Why should a girl with your gifts waste them here? No. But there, over there, Judith, you can play a part which will not only fulfill your own capacities but be a direct help to us here, to Israel. We are still desperately short of trained brains.” She was staring at him now with a slowly growing resentment in her eyes. “Besides,” he went on, hastily, lying now in order to help her as he thought, “they want me to join the regular army now and I shall probably be leaving the valley myself for a command in the Negev. It’s not certain but it’s on the cards.”

“So you don’t want me to stay,” she said in a harsh, small voice, as if talking to herself. “It’s all this sabra business again; you don’t feel I have any sort of stake in your blasted Israel. Very well — thank you for making up my mind for me.”

“Judith,” he protested, “I meant nothing of the kind. I certainly don’t want you to go in this state of mind. Listen…

But she was already walking back through the olive glade to the high road where the car waited for her. Thank God, she thought to herself, I am already packed up. I have my suitcase and can leave today. Aaron walked beside her saying: “Judith, please don’t be unreasonable. We must not separate on these false terms. I know you will come back sometime; and I’ll wait for you — I promise you…

But she climbed into the car and slammed the door shut. “Goodbye, Aaron,” she said, and motioned to the driver with her hand. Aaron stood in exasperated silence, biting his lip and watching the car slide slowly away down the long avenue of trees whose green foliage waved in the wind like sentient creatures waving farewell. He sighed and folded his strong arms across his chest as he watched it dwindle to a dot. Then he started and felt the blood suddenly beating in his temples. The car had stopped. The small figure, infinitely diminished by the long green perspective, got down into the road. It waved the car on and, as the vehicle slowly disappeared around the bend, the familiar figure began to plod slowly and determinedly back. “Judith!” he said under his breath — but he did not move, did not breathe, for fear that it was his imagination playing tricks with him. But no. Gradually the figure was growing larger as it approached him.

Aaron now knew that a final and irrevocable decision had been taken, and that he was glad. Yet he still stood and waited patiently, separated from the distant figure by an eternity of time and space. Or so it seemed.