S. Agnon - A Book that Was Lost

“Naomi,’’ I said to her, “I am going away, and I do not know how long I shall stay. Close up the house behind me, lock it up thoroughly, and take the key with you until I come back.”

Naomi nodded her head with its two plaits and looked at me. I saw from the look in her eyes that she disapproved of a man going to see his mother in the patched trousers in which he was in the habit of doing his work; it was not respectful to his family to come to them like that. What would people say? How many years he has spent in the world, and he has not managed to buy a whole garment!

I closed my eyes to Naomi’s apprehensions. When Mother might be on the point of death, could I worry about my dress? By the time I took off my old clothes and put on new, Mother might have breathed her last. I waved my hand deprecatingly and said, “No, I am going as I am. In any case, I shall take another pair of trousers with me.” But the valise was small and did not hold much. And my other valise was in the attic, and to get up there I needed a ladder, and if I found a ladder and climbed up, the valise might well be locked, and if it was locked, I might not find the key. So, since there were more doubts than certainties, I took my little valise in my hand and went out, dressed as I was in my patched trousers.

Thinking about the way ahead, I said to myself: I am going to my mother and I do not know whether she is alive or dead, for when I last left her she was sick, and she cried and said, “My heart tells me that I shall never see you again.” And it is known that the sick see with a third eye, which the Angel of Death lends them.

I took a short cut through a certain old courtyard, like the one where I used to play hide-and-seek in my childhood. The same sensation I felt in my head during this game came back to me. Picture to yourselves a large, old courtyard, full of many corners, and every corner full of corners, besides various articles and bits and pieces deposited by their owners in case they might need them, the owners are dead, the articles are rusty, and the rust glows with a kind of damp light which terrifies but does not illuminate, And as I am a little child with my little friends, I hide from them and they hide from me. We stand and wait, and none of us knows whether he wants to be found or not. Finally, none of us looks for the others. We run about looking for a secret corner more secluded than the first, and my head goes around and around, and the rust that glimmers from the junk makes my flesh creep.

They were taking a body out of the yard, and a man I knew was carrying the bier, exerting all his strength and pushing his feet into the ground until they were getting flattened with the weight. The very nails of his hands and toes cried: Come and carry with me. His eyes were weary; he seemed to be carrying them on his shoulders, from which they were looking out in entreaty, I began to worry in case he told me with his mouth what his eyes were entreating, when I was hurrying to Mother. I slipped through into a cranny, and from there to another, from there to the street and then to the railroad station, and from the station into a carriage.

Thank Heaven I had reached the train and got my ticket, and no longer had to push and be pushed, but could sit and leave my time at the disposal of the train, which knew when to depart and when to arrive. And since I was always engrossed in my work and had no time to look at myself, I thought: Now that I have set aside all my affairs, let me think about myself a little. It is good for a man to think about himself a little and not think what he is always thinking. I looked at myself and saw myself standing in the station on the carriage step. The station was full of people and luggage, some carrying their belongings in their hands and some pulling at the porters to carry their luggage. The guard was waving his flag and all of them were slipping from their places, some this way and some that, returning as they ran to the place they had come from.

Suddenly, I felt eyes staring at this man who is already taking his place in the train. I began to be afraid they might give me the evil eye. I turned my head toward the wall and found a notice there, stating that every traveler to this place needed a travel permit. I realized that this place where I was going was in a military area, and I had left my travel permit at home. This place where I was born, and where my mother was dying, was in a military area, and I had to go there, and I did not have my travel permit with me.

What was to be done? There was nothing to be done but to go back home, get my travel permit, and set off on tomorrow’s train, for the guard was already blowing his whistle and the train was on the point of departure. I hastily jumped out of the carriage. Those who had come to see travelers off looked at me, startled, and those who had come to travel and had not arrived in time began to run in haste and confusion, as if I had left a place vacant for them. I held up my hands, as if begging their pardon, and felt that my hands were empty, for my valise was still in the compartment.

I fixed my eyes on the train, which had set out on a long journey and taken my valise with it. The train chugged on, emitting a heavy trail of smoke. My eyes were smothered in the smoke and covered with the smoke, and out of the smoke slipped the man who had been carrying the bier. Strange to say, he was no longer carrying his eyes on his shoulders, but his eyes were in his head, and his hands were empty, and on his lips there was a kind of smile. “Where are you going?” he said to me. “Home,” I said to him. He passed his hand over his beard, blew a hair at me, and said, “Home?” And again he was looking at me from between his shoulders. How people can change! A short time before, he had been looking at me face to face, and a short time later he was looking at me from the back of his neck.

I took no short cuts on my way back, for you did not know what was hidden in that courtyard and what lay in store for you there. When I reached my house, I found it locked; the key was still in my valise, and my valise was still in the railway carriage. There was one more key, and Naomi had it. And You, O God, made me send Naomi on leave until my return.

I went to Naomi’s house but did not find her. Where was Naomi? Naomi had gone to visit her uncle. Which uncle?

Some of the neighbors said her uncle on her father’s side, and some said her uncle on her mother’s side. If she had gone to her father’s brother, he lived in Shaarayim; if to her mother’s brother, he lived in Sdeh Shalom. If I went one way, it would take half a day; if I went the other way, it would take half a day; if I did not find her and had to go after her again, that would be a day gone, and I would be late for tomorrow’s train. And after all, I could not tear myself in two — sending one part this way and one the other. Whether I liked it or not, I must go one way or the other. And my heart was pulling away from me, wanting to go to Mother; and it was right, for all the trouble I had taken had only been for Mother’s sake, and if I did not hurry and set off at once, I might never find my mother and reach her before her burial.

Suddenly an idea came into my mind: perhaps Naomi had not gone away, and if she had not gone away she was still in the city, and if she was in the city, she might have gone to one of her relatives. I must go there and find her. It is a happy man who finds a new idea when all his ideas are exhausted. I began to inquire which of her relatives here Naomi was in the habit of visiting, and they told me: She has one relative here, a carpenter; perhaps she has gone to him.

I went to the carpenter and found him on his knees fitting a mirror into the door of a wardrobe. I greeted him and he returned my greeting from between his knees, without raising his head an inch for my sake. Almost certainly he had looked in the mirror and seen that my trousers were old, and he had understood in his own way that a man like this was not worth troubling his head over. “Is Naomi here?” I asked him; but he did not reply. “Where is Naomi?” I asked again. He looked at me over his shoulder and replied angrily, “What do you want of Naomi?” “Naomi works for me,” I said, “and I need her.”