S. Agnon - A Book that Was Lost

6

Toni stood up, removed her flowers from the glass, shook the moisture off them, and wrapped them in paper. She inhaled their scent and paused a moment or two in the hope that Michael might sit down again: she was afraid lest on the way back something should happen to disturb their atmosphere of calm. The waiter came up, handed Toni her parasol, bowed them out, and followed them until they were out of the garden. When they had gone, he extinguished the lanterns. The garden and its surroundings became dark. A frog jumped in the grass. Toni dropped her flowers in alarm.

The croaking of frogs rose from the banks of the stream. The electric wires were giving off sparks: something had obviously gone wrong with them. After a few paces the wires and poles disappeared from view, and other sparks could be seen: they were the fireflies, which dappled the darkness with their glitter.

Hartmann stood wondering. What has happened here? he asked himself. His mind was tranquil, as if his question had furnished the answer.

Gradually they reached the stream. It lay there in its bed, its waters gently rocking. The stars cast their reflection upon its formless ripples, and the moon floated on the surface. The cry of a bird of prey was heard in the distance, and its echo pierced the air.

Toni crossed her feet and leaned on her parasol. She lowered her eyelids and drowsed. The waves raised themselves up and fell back exhausted. The frogs croaked, and the river plants exuded a tepid smell.

Toni was tired, and her eyes dropped. The river willows whispered, and the waters of the stream undulated languidly. Toni was no longer able to control her eyes, and they began to close of their own accord. But Michael was awake.

Never in his life had he been so wide awake. The tiniest movement set his mind working, and he looked about him searchingly, lest anything of what was happening should escape him. It was good, he felt, that Toni existed for him in this world and at that hour. But what was good for him was not good for her. She was exhausted, and her legs were incapable of supporting her body.

“Tired?” he asked her. “I’m not tired,” she replied; but her voice belied her words.

Michael laughed, and Toni looked at him in surprise. He laughed again and said: “One day I was out walking with the girls. I asked them if they were tired, and Renate answered: ‘I’m not tired, but my legs are.’”

“The sweet chick,” said Toni with a sigh.

Hartmann was sorry he had mentioned the girls. He looked around to see if he could find a conveyance to take them back to town. But the earth was silent: no sound of a carriage wheel or motor. He looked in all four directions, to see if he could discover a telephone booth. He was filled with pity for this small woman who had not the strength to walk. Once or twice he supported her with his arm. Her dress was damp from the moist air, and she shivered a little. If he did not get her under a roof, she would certainly catch cold.

But the city was far away, and the air was dank. He wanted to take off his jacket and wrap it around Toni. But he was afraid she might refuse; and he did not want to do anything that would evoke her refusal.

Perhaps, Michael thought, there would be a bed for her at the inn where they had eaten. Taking her arm, he said: “Let’s go back to the inn.” Toni dragged after him, bereft of strength.

7

They took the same road by which they had come and found their way back to the garden. Hartmann shoved the gate open, and they went up the stone steps. The house was silent. The waiter was not to be seen, neither was the girl. Obviously the household was asleep, and no guests were expected. Every step they took cried out at the intrusion.

Hartmann opened the door to the house and stepped inside. He spoke a greeting into the room, but there was no reply. He found an old man sitting bent over a table, pipe in mouth, an expression of annoyance on his face.

“Is there any room to sleep here?” Hartmann asked. The old man looked at him and at the woman by his side. It was clear from the old man’s expression that he was not pleased to see a couple who had turned up after midnight to seek a haven of love. He took his pipe from his mouth, laid it on the table, and, giving them a look of annoyance, said severely: “We have one room vacant.” Toni blushed. Hartmann crumpled his hat and said nothing. The landlord took his pipe, turned it upside down, knocked it against the table, and removed the ash. Putting aside the ash and the burnt shreds, he gathered the remnants of tobacco and put them back in the pipe. Pressing them down with his thumb, he said: “We’ll prepare the room for the lady.” Finally, raising his eyes, he said: “We’ll find a place for the gentleman as well. When we’re full we usually make up a bed on the billiard table.”

Toni inclined her head toward the landlord and said: “Thank you very much indeed.” Said Hartmann: “Would you show us the room?”

The landlord got up and lit a candle. Opening a door for them, he followed them into a spacious room in which there were three beds, one of them made up. There was a washstand with two basins and two jugs filled with water, and a large decanter half-full of water covered with an inverted tumbler. Above the made-up bed hung a broken horn with a bridal wreath on it, and a ram’s head and the head of a wild boar with eyes of red glass hung upon the walls. The innkeeper took the tumbler, examined it, stood it upside down, and waited for Hartmann to leave.

Hartmann put out his hand to test the mattress. Seeing him do so, the innkeeper said: “No one has yet complained of not getting a good nights sleep in this house.” Hartmann paled, and his hand remained dangling. The innkeeper placed the candle next to the made-up bed and said: “Now sir, if you’ll come with me, I’ll make your bed for you.” And he waited for his guest to accompany him.

Finally Hartmann grasped the innkeeper’s intention. Taking Toni’s hand, he wished her goodnight. Her hand clung to his, and her eyes enfolded his heart.

A few moments later the innkeeper was making up Hartmann’s bed on the billiard table and chatting to him as he did so. His annoyance gave way to affability. Now that the guest was without the woman, he considered him respectable. He asked his guest how many pillows he liked to sleep on, and whether he preferred a heavy blanket or a light one, and did he wish to take anything to drink before he retired for the night. Finally he gave him a lighted candle and a box of matches and left the room. A few moments later, Hartmann went out into the garden.

The lanterns had gone out, but a light from heaven illuminated the darkness. The grass and the mandrakes gave off a damp, refreshing scent. A chestnut dropped from a tree and burst. Another chestnut fell sharply and burst.

Hartmann stood reviewing the night’s events. After a brief pause he went across to the table at which he had dined with Toni. The chairs had been leaned against it, and the dew glistened on the bare tabletop. Underneath the table lay a thick cigar. It was the cigar that he had put down on the table when he began telling Toni his dream.

“Now we’ll have a smoke,” he said. But before he could take out a cigar he had forgotten what it was he had meant to do.

8

“What was I going to do?” he asked himself. “To get up on this little mound in front of me.” He had not really intended to do so, but once he had told himself, he went and did it.

The mound was dome-shaped, wide at the base and narrow at the top and not far across, and it was surrounded by bushes. He drew in his breath and considered: I expect each thorn and thistle has a different name. How many names of thorns do I know? More than I thought. I wonder if the gardener doesn’t lavish more care on the thorns than on the flowers. Those gardeners destroy the thorns where they normally grow and plant them in the wrong places. Perhaps the names I know are the names of the thorns growing here…Suddenly he smiled: That innkeeper doesn’t know what Toni and I are to one another. How annoyed he was when we asked for somewhere to sleep. Now let me see what’s here.