S. Agnon - A Guest for the NIght

So Yeruham was left without a mother and without a shelter, for all his grandfather’s wealth was gone. Things went so far that there was no money to hire him a wet nurse. Mrs. Bach had pity on him, so she took him and nursed him with her own milk, for Yeruham was born in the same month as her Aniela, that is, Erela. So Mrs. Bach took from the milk of Erela, that is, Aniela, and gave to Yeruham. Even in his childhood he showed strength and vigor, and drank double. That is why he is tall and handsome. For the women of today are not the women of before the war. The women of today have not a drop of blood in their faces or milk in their teats, but the women before the war — Father in heaven! — when the Emperor’s generals came to hold their battle exercises, and went out to the town and saw the daughters of Israel, they would bow down before them and say, “Daughters of kings, we are your servants!” But when the war came, they took the men to be killed in battle, and the women, who looked like the daughters of kings, lost the bloom of their loveliness in the struggle to find a piece of bread.

It was during that period of the war that Mrs. Bach wandered as far as Vienna, with her three daughters, her father-in-law, Yeruham her father-in-law’s son, and Yeruham the son of the Lithuanian. As for her eldest son, he died on the way between two towns and she did not know in which he was buried. Once she sent money to each of the towns, so that if her son was buried in one of them they should put a stone over the grave, and they did not send back the money. After some time she heard that both towns had been sacked and the graves in them destroyed by the Russian artillery. And how did she earn her living all the years she lived in Vienna? First, the government gave forty-five crowns a month to women whose husbands were in the army. Second, she and her two big daughters knit gloves for soldiers and various kinds of scarves and sashes, or sewed sacks that the troops could fill with sand and set down in front of them to absorb the enemy’s bullets. Her big daughters, as she called them, were little at that time, but by comparison with Erela she called them big. One of them died immediately after they came back to Szibucz, and another died of influenza soon after her father’s return.

While she was working, Mrs. Bach was free to think many thoughts. She even got around to thinking that this war would not come to an end so soon. True, our Emperor was waging war wisely and the Emperor of Germany was helping him, but the Russian Czar was not weak either, especially when other kings had joined him. And although the newspapers reported Austrian and German victories every day, the enemy was killing men and taking one city after another. The girls were growing up and so were the boys — Yeruham her father-in-law’s son and Yeruham the son of the Lithuanian. Prices were rising, and what she and her daughters earned, as well as what the government allotted to them, was not enough to keep seven souls, namely her and her three daughters and her father-in-law and Yeruham A and Yeruham B. Other women tried to make a living in other ways. They would go around to the shops and buy food to sell at a profit, or ask for help at the “Joint” which would once a week distribute tins of fish and yellow and white grits from America. But she was not very good at trade or at the gates of charity. Once she gave in to the persuasions of her neighbors and went to ask for help. The official wrote down her name and address and said they would send the food to her home. So, trusting him, she made a great feast that day, and took a piece of duck and roasted it, for it was several days since she or any of her family had tasted meat. The messenger of charity came and perceived the smell of roast. He was angry and rebuked her, saying, “It is a sin to take pity on a woman who roasts ducks when the whole world is hungry.” Then she began studying the papers to see if she could find work in keeping with her strength and honor, but by the time she would come for it others would have got there ahead of her.

In the same house where she lived there was a certain girl who was learning to become a midwife. She saw that the girl was not terribly clever, so she said: What this one can do I can do too. And it may very well be that the idea had already been awakened in her during the evacuation, for a woman had given birth on the road and had been in danger because there was no midwife to be found.

You may well say that if she could not manage with her wages while she was working, how much less so if she had to spend her time in training. But before her husband went out to the army he had given her two thousand crowns to pay a debt. Before she could manage to send the money the town where the creditor lived was destroyed and all trace of him was lost. So she hit on the idea of borrowing from his money and learning a trade with which to make a living. Besides, she had taken her jewels with her, and even they were worth money. At first she used to pawn them and redeem them over and over again, but in the end they were left in the pawnbroker’s. And here Mrs. Bach told me that she was the granddaughter of Shifrah Puah the midwife, whose coffin was followed by nine hundred and ninety-nine men and one woman; Shifrah Puah her grandmother had helped to bring them all into the world, and when she died they came to pay her honor and accompany her to her eternal home.

One of those that Shifrah Puah her grandmother had helped bring into the world was a distant relative of her family called Shulkind, a very rich man and the owner of a factory for paper products. The government used to give him unlimited quantities of coal, because he supplied the army with goods, and when he heard that Shifrah Puah’s granddaughter was living in Vienna he sent her some coal. When she came to thank him he asked her what she was doing. She told him that her husband had gone to the war and she was living with her daughters, her father-in-law, her brother-in-law, and an orphan she had adopted, and was learning to become a midwife. Immediately he allotted her enough to support herself and her household, as well as to study and train for her work. He also took her father-in-law into his house and gave him bed and board, in return for which he should teach Mishna to Shulkind, for Shulkind’s only son had gone out for a hike in the mountains and had fallen and been killed, his wife — namely his son’s mother — had been blinded by her weeping, and he, the boy’s father, had diverted his attention to Torah. He also helped Erela and Yeruham the father-in-law’s son and Yeruham the Lithuanian’s son to study in a teacher-training school. Good men like him no longer exist in the world. Had he not died he would have set them on their feet and they would not have come to the pass they did.

That Mr. Shulkind died in this way. It happened that once someone claimed a large sum of money from him, someone to whom he owed nothing or had already paid. The judge ordered Shulkind to take an oath. He took a Bible, laid his hand on it and said, “Here let me die if I owe anything to this man.” Before he could move from the spot he fell and died.

And why was he so good to her? Mrs. Bach said Mr. Shulkind had once told her that one night he had seen Shifrah Puah’s coffin in a dream, and all the mourners were naked and barefoot, except for himself, who was well dressed. It seemed reasonable that because he was rich they should give him a place at the head of the coffin-bearers. And he himself thought that was fitting; and indeed they did do so. They honored him and placed him in front. But he was angry and said to himself, “What do these people think, that they have it in their power to give me honor? Even my janitor would not let such beggars set foot in my house.” The dead woman’s coffin shook; because he was in the grip of his anger his hands had weakened, and the coffin slipped. Along came a certain man and stood in his place and said, “It doesn’t matter, sir, nothing has happened.” And it seemed to Mr. Shulkind that this fellow was smiling, as a man smiles to his neighbor, meaning, “Although you have behaved abominably, I like you.” Mr. Shulkind was angry at this man who dared to behave as if they were equals. He looked at him and saw that he was ragged and barefoot. He was moved with pity for him and said to himself: After all, I am very rich and I will lose nothing if I give this poor man five or ten crowns — even if all the mourners for Shifrah Puah stretch out their hands and ask for charity too. But he must first investigate whether the man deserved charity, for impostors pretend to be poor and extract money from the rich. Or perhaps he should not give them anything, but donate a thousand crowns to a charitable society, which investigates a poor man seven times before it gives him one copper. But if he gave to the poor himself the entire donation would reach them, whereas a society fritters away money on wages for officials and clerks, offices and letters, not to speak of thefts — and not much is left for the poor. He was moved with pity for the poor, for even the money the rich devote to them does not reach them intact. And even though it was only a dream, Mr. Shulkind took upon himself to pay heed to the poor, especially the exiles from his own town, who, he had heard, were wasting away with hunger.