S. Agnon - A Guest for the NIght

The lads sighed and said, “But what good does it do us, if then they set fire to all that we’ve done? Sometimes the farmer sets fire to his barn to get insurance money; and if he is not insured, his enemies come and set fire to it. And when his corn is burned, and he has not paid us our wages yet, he does not pay at all.” So, from one thing to another, we came to what happened to them on the festival of Shavuot, when their food had been stolen and they had been left without anything at all. Said Mr. Bach, “This happened before the giving of the Torah, when they had not yet been commanded: Thou shalt not steal.”

The skies showed that midnight had passed, and the hay exhaled its sweet smell, as if it had been steeped through and perfumed by the dew, and the dew perfumed by it. The stars stood silent, one here, one there, and their light floated on the face of the firmament. Suddenly a star jumped from its place and disappeared, and mist covered its path. The night redoubled its peace, and tranquil quiet covered everything around us. Silent we returned to the house and lay down to sleep.

The lads had laid straw mattresses for us on the floor. I recited the “Hear, O Israel,” covered myself, and said good night to Mr. Bach. But he did not answer, for he had already fallen asleep.

I too closed my eyes and said to myself: How good and pleasant it is that I have come here. In a thousand nights there is not one like this. Before I had finished praising the night, I felt a shock, as if a needle had been thrust into my face. I took out my right hand hastily to rub my cheek, and something like a needle was thrust into my hand. I took out my left hand to cover the right; it too was stabbed by the needle — or perhaps it was another needle, for it burned and stung more than the first. While I was wondering what this could be, along came a band of gnats and explained the matter.

What the gnats did above, the mice did below, squeaking and gnawing and frisking about the room. I called out to Mr. Bach, but he did not answer. I called again, but he did not answer. Is there no feeling in his flesh? Doesn’t he hear the hateful, disgusting squeaking? Next morning, when I told him about it, he smiled and said, “I know them since the days of the war, when they used to assemble in companies and battalions to gnaw the corpses, and it isn’t worth wasting even an hour of sleep on them. Besides, they don’t think it worth their while to tackle me, for no doubt they landed on my artificial leg first and thought I was all made of wood.”

Between the gnats and the mice came the fleas. While the mice frisked in the room and the gnats stung my face and neck, the fleas divided up the rest of my body between them. Or perhaps they went into partnership with the bugs, and what the first left the other came and took. I wanted to jump up, but I was afraid our comrades might awaken. I was sorry I had pressed them to go to sleep. If we had lengthened our talk, I should have shortened my sufferings. I raised my head and gazed at the window. Night had covered the land and there was no hope that day would dawn. All the village slept; no cock crowed, no dog cried. Meanwhile, I dozed off and slept. As soon as I fell asleep, the cock crowed, the dogs barked, and the cows moved from their shed. I heard the sound of bare feet on the floor of the other room, where the girls slept, and saw a light coming from there. “Blessed be He that maketh the night to pass and bringeth the day,” said I. “Soon the lads will get up and I will escape from this bed of pain.” Then sleep overcame me and I dozed off.

An hour or an hour and a half later I opened my eyes and saw that the whole room was filled with the light of day. I dressed quickly, said my prayers, and sat down with the comrades for breakfast.

I watched the faces of Daniel Bach and the boys and girls: they looked the same as the day before; there wasn’t the least sign of a gnat on them. He who is easy on others, others are easy on him; he who is hard on others, others are hard on him. At that moment I made up my mind to pay no attention to fleas and gnats and bugs and mice.

When we had eaten and drunk, our comrades wanted me to stay till after the Sabbath, for on the Sabbath they were free all day and all night. Although I had made up my mind to pay no attention to the fleas and gnats, the bugs and the mice, I was afraid to stay, in case I might not stand the test.

The carter came with his cart. The farmer went out and brought Mr. Bach a bowlful of butter and a basketful of mushrooms. Before we moved off, the other farmers and their wives came and brought garlic and onions, eggs and a pair of pigeons.

Daniel Bach said goodbye to the farmer and we got onto the cart. “Soon,” said the farmer, “I am coming to bring your wife.” “Is your daughter-in-law giving birth?” Daniel asked the farmer. “Both my daughter-in-law and my wife,” said the farmer.

The comrades returned to their work and we returned to the town. The pleasant air and the wind that blew through the standing corn drove the troubles of the night out of my mind, and you needn’t be surprised, for at that time I was forty-one years old, so I could endure the day even if I had not slept at night. My weary limbs began to heal, except for my skin, which was swollen from the bugs. As we neared the town, I was gripped with longing for our comrades in the village. I said to Daniel Bach, “If I was not afraid the Gentiles would steal your treasures, I would want to go back with you to the village.” Daniel Bach was silent and made no reply. Perhaps he was thinking of the farmer and his wife and daughter-in-law, perhaps he was thinking of his brother who had been killed, or perhaps he was thinking of the gifts he was bringing to his wife. It was not every day that he brought her things like these. Finally, he turned his head to me and said, “I find this surprising: if they are working why do they need the Land of Israel? Surely they can stay here and work and earn a living.” “Were it not for the Land of Israel,” I replied, “would they work so hard?” Said he, “Whatever we talk about, you people bring in the Land of Israel.” “Who was it brought in the Land of Israel this time — you or I?” said I. Said Daniel Bach, “Whenever I see you, it seems to me that a strip of the Land trails along behind you, so I am reminded of the Land of Israel. In any case, the girls’ parents can be pleased that they have followed the pioneers and not trailed after the communists.” “Is that all the good you have found in our girls?” said I. “The only good we have is not to have the worst,” he replied.

As we were sitting, the cart shook, let out a screech and stopped. The carter got off, examined the wheels, and began cursing himself and his horses and the road and all the people in the world. Finally, he straightened up and said, “Be so kind as to get down, gentlemen. One of the wheels is broken.” “What shall we do?” “You do nothing,” said the carter. “You watch the cart and horses, while I go look for a man to mend my wheel.”

“And shall we have to stand here a long time?” “You don’t need to stand,” said the carter. “If you want, you can sit.” So the carter went off, while Daniel Bach and I sat down beside the cart, which was standing on three wheels. Half the day passed and the carter did not come back. Daniel Bach opened his bundle and said, “Let us have lunch.” After we had eaten, we heard the sound of feet. “There are two people coming,” said I to Daniel. “I see four feet,” said Daniel. The carter came up, with a short, broad old man. It was the smith, who had mended the wheel and had come to get his pay.

The smith dragged along his feet slowly, and his head shook without a stop. He looked at the remains of the food and said, “Good appetite! Is there a drop of brandy here for the throat of my mother’s son?” When he heard we had no brandy, he spat into his hands and said, “So you have eaten and not drunk?” “And you’ve drunk and not eaten,” said the carter. “I’ve drunk, gentlemen, I’ve drunk,” said the smith, “but only one little drop.” Again he spat into his hands and said, “To work.” An hour later, or a little less, we got back into the cart. It was almost dark when we reached the town.