S. Agnon - A Book that Was Lost

“Between Two Towns” takes a gently ironic view of its characters, in particular the schoolteacher who repays the hospitality of the townspeople with a pedantic correction of their practices that introduces a measure of suffering into their lives. Agnon has recreated for us here the daily lives of communities, with a full portrayal of the intricacies of their attachments and their idiosyncrasies. These are habits and practices that develop over time in relation to a setting, here the rustic German milieu of mountains, forests, and waters. This story might be read as elegiac or ironic in light of subsequent history. Nevertheless, that dimension does not detract from the full absorption of Agnon’s narrative energies in the substance of the lives that he creates.

1

When I joined the staff of the hospital, I discovered there a blonde nurse who was loved by everyone and whose praise was on the lips of all the patients. As soon as they heard her footsteps, they would sit up in bed and stretch their arms out toward her as an only son reaches for his mother, and each one of them would call, “Nurse, nurse, come to me.” Even the ill-tempered kind who find all the world provoking — as soon as she appeared, the frown lines in their faces faded, their anger dissolved, and they were ready to do whatever she ordered. Not that it was her way to give orders: the smile that illuminated her face was enough to make patients obey her. In addition to her smile, there were her eyes, a kind of blue-black; everyone she looked at felt as if he were the most important thing in the world. Once I asked myself where such power comes from. From the moment I saw her eyes, I was just like the rest of the patients. And she had no special intentions toward me, nor toward anybody in particular. That smile on her lips, however, and that blue-black in her eyes had the further distinction of doing on their own more than their mistress intended.

One indication of the degree of affection in which she was generally held was the fact that even her fellow nurses liked her and were friendly toward her. And the head nurse, a woman of about forty, well born, thin and wan as vinegar, who hated everyone, patients and doctors alike, with the possible exception of black coffee and salted cakes and her lap dog — even she was favorably disposed in this case. Such a woman, who couldn’t look at a girl without imagining her half wasted away, showed special kindness to this nurse. And one hardly need mention my fellow doctors. Every doctor with whom she happened to work thanked his stars. Even our professor, accustomed as he was to concern himself less with the suffering of the sick than with the orderliness of their beds, made no fuss if he found her sitting on a patient’s bed. This old man, the master of so many disciples and the discoverer of cures for several diseases, died in a concentration camp where a Nazi trooper tormented him daily by forcing him to go through exercises. One day the trooper ordered him to lie flat on his belly with arms and legs outstretched, and as soon as he was down, he was commanded to get up. As he was not quick about it, the trooper trampled him with his cleated boots until the old man’s thumbnails were mutilated. He contracted blood poisoning and died.

What more can I say? I took a liking to this girl just as everyone else did. But I can add that she also took a liking to me. And though any man could say as much, others did not dare while I dared, and so I married her.

2

This is how it came about. One afternoon, as I was leaving the dining hall, I ran into Dinah. I said to her, “Are you busy, nurse?”

“No, I’m not busy.”

“What makes today so special?”

“Today is my day off from the hospital.”

“And how are you celebrating your day off?”

“I haven’t yet considered the matter.”

“Would you allow me to give you some advice?”

“Please do, doctor.”

“But only if I am paid for the advice. Nowadays you don’t get something for nothing.”

She looked at me and laughed. I continued, “I have one good piece of advice which is actually two — that we go to the Prater and that we go to the opera. And if we hurry, we can stop first at a cafe. Do you agree, nurse?” She nodded yes good-humoredly.

“When shall we go?” I asked.

“Whenever the doctor wants.”

“I’ll take care of what I have to as soon as possible and I’ll be right over.”

“Whenever you come, you’ll find me ready.”

She went to her room and I to my responsibilities. A little while later, when I arrived to pick her up, I discovered that she had changed clothes. All at once she seemed a new person to me, and with the metamorphosis her charm was doubled, for she had both the charm I felt in her when she was in uniform and that which was lent her by the new clothes. I sat in her room and looked at the flowers on the table and by the bed, and after asking her whether she knew their names, I recited the name of each flower, in German and in Latin. But I quickly became apprehensive that a serious patient might be brought in and I would be paged. I got up from my seat and urged that we leave at once. I saw she was disturbed.

“Is something bothering you?” I asked.

“I thought you’d have something to eat.”

“Right now, let’s go, and if you are still so kindly disposed toward me, I’ll come back to enjoy everything you give me, and I’ll even ask for more.”

“May I count on that?”

“I’ve already given you my word. Not only that, but, as I said, I’ll ask for more.”

As we left the hospital court, I said to the doorman, “You see this nurse? I’m taking her away from here.” The doorman looked at us benevolently and said, “More power to you, doctor. More power to you, nurse.”

* * *

We walked to the trolley stop. A trolley came along, but turned out to be full. The next one that arrived we thought we would be able to take. Dinah got onto the car. When I tried to climb up after her, the conductor called out, “No more room.” She came down and waited with me for another car. At that point I commented to myself, Some people say that one shouldn’t worry about a trolley or a girl that has gone because others will soon come along. But those who think that are fools. As far as the girl is concerned, can one find another girl like Dinah? And as to the trolley, I regretted every delay.

Along came a suburban trolley. Since its cars were new and spacious and empty of passengers, we got on. Suddenly (or, according to the clock, after a while), the trolley reached the end of the line and we found ourselves standing in a lovely place filled with gardens, where the houses were few.

We crossed the street talking about the hospital and the patients and the head nurse and the professor, who had instituted a fast once a week for all patients with kidney ailments because someone with kidney pains had fasted on the Day of Atonement and afterward there was no albumen in his urine. Then we mentioned all the cripples the war had produced, and we were pleased by the setting for our walk because there were no cripples around. I threw up my arms suddenly and said, “Let’s forget about the hospital and cripples and speak about more pleasant things.” She agreed with me, even though from her expression one could tell she was concerned that we might not find any other subject for conversation.

Children were playing. They saw us and began to whisper to each other. “Do you know, Fraulein,” I asked Dinah, “what the children are talking about? They are talking about us.”—“Perhaps.” “Do you know what they’re saying?” I went on. “They’re saying, ‘The two of them are bride and groom.’” Her face reddened as she answered, “Perhaps that’s what they are saying.”