S. Agnon - Two Tales - Betrothed & Edo and Enam

XVII

The school bell rang again. Rechnitz stirred. It was the break between lessons and he was still free; he walked over to the book room, known as the “nature room” because it contained a number of minerals, plants, and taxidermied animals and birds of the country.

The books were in a locked cabinet. He had no great desire to read, and certainly no desire to ask the secretary for the keys, so he stood and surveyed the stuffed creatures, which had been acquired from Ilyushin the taxidermist. These specimens are always a witness to Ilyushin’s love for all living things; it was this love of his which gave them life even after their death. How beautiful, thought Rechnitz, is that swallow. She sits on her perch as if she were only dozing. When he went out he closed the door softly, as if he feared to wake the bird.

Finally he went back to the staff room. It was empty and the table was clear of rolls and cakes. Instead there were notebooks on it, and pamphlets and textbooks, including a new arithmetic manual. He picked this up and put it down, picked it up again and took a look inside, checked the figures given and wrote: “Duly checked and proved correct.”

Again the bell rang, and Rechnitz murmured to himself that it was time to go. He passed a hand over his brow, as though to stimulate his memory. What do I want? he asked himself. But he had not found the reply by the time he was up on the platform facing the class.

Rechnitz raised his eyes and tried to keep them on his students. But his lids felt heavy and his knees were shaking. He crossed his legs, rubbed his eyes, and looked over the class again. The boys and girls sat in their usual rows; but above their heads a cloud seemed to hang, turning the class into something solid and opaque. Rechnitz began, “Boys and girls, yesterday we stopped at…” But he felt weak and wanted to cry. He closed his eyes and began again, “So yesterday…” The class could tell that their teacher’s mind was far away, and everyone began to follow his or her private concerns. Rachel’s brother took a novel out of his pocket, laid it on his knees and began to read. His neighbors to the right and left busied themselves drawing pictures. The girls were behaving even worse. Raya’s sister folded a paper plane and sent it flying at the nose of Asnat’s sister, while Asnat’s sister in turn held a little mirror up toward the sun and blinded her companions with the reflected rays. Rechnitz could see what was going on and his eyes ached with sorrow. How could these pupils, whom he treated as friends, disgrace him so?

“What are you reading over there?” he called out sharply.

Heilperin calmly exhibited his book and answered, Sanin.

“What’s that?”

“A novel.”

“And what’s it about?”

“I don’t know, sir. I haven’t read it yet.”

“You don’t know! You don’t know anything, do you? — And you, what are you up to there?”

The boy trembled and pushed his notebook away.

“What’s your opinion?” said Rechnitz. “Would you say it’s worth my while to see what you have been drawing? Not worth my while? If so, why waste time on a thing that’s not worth doing? As for you, my little friend, my dear Miss Magargot, if I had such a delightful mirror as yours, I should hold it up to your face and see two hard-working students instead of one. Yes, my friends, I suppose I am being sarcastic, and that’s not what I am here for. But my dear friends, you’re not here either just to read novels. Very soon Yehia will be ringing his bell and we shall be going home. What we shall do at home is a problem; because once a person doesn’t do what he has to do, he doesn’t know anymore what to do instead. And now Yehia, God bless him, is sounding the bell. So goodbye, boys and girls. Goodbye.”

XVIII

What shall I do now? Rechnitz wondered. I can’t go to the Consul’s, because lunch time is near and I haven’t been invited to lunch. If I went, Shoshanah would think I was behaving as if I owned her and had the right to turn up whenever I liked. No, it’s no good, he thought. It was half past twelve. In half an hour the restaurant would be full of regular customers; if he didn’t hurry there would be no lunch left. He had not eaten there for two days and the proprietress would assume he was not coming.

Suddenly he remembered what he had been trying to recall in the break before his second lesson. Tonight, or last night, or even the night before, he had been invited to Shoshanah’s for dinner. Her room was small and pleasant. The table was set for a meal with bread and matzah , butter and milk, tomatoes and cucumbers, eggs and cheese. In the middle of the table stood a bowl of strawberries and on the strawberries was a red dusting of sugar. The room had a pleasant scent, and not only because of the strawberries: when Shoshanah went out to bring in the tea, he looked at the wardrobe where she kept her clothes and saw a bunch of roses on top. He counted twelve roses, and was pleased, although he was not superstitious, to find that they did not add up to thirteen. What did they talk about, he and Shoshanah? They talked about all sorts of people, including her father, the Consul. Oddly enough, Shoshanah referred to him as if he were Jacob’s father and not her own. And when she mentioned him she said, “Of course, I don’t know him well, but I would suppose…” whatever it was she attributed to him. Jacob ate very little, and for that reason Shoshanah refrained from taking much. Although he knew that she ought to eat more, still he did not force his appetite. After they had eaten and drunk, she went and sat down on the sofa and he sat on a chair facing her. She showed him a more comfortable place, saying, “Sit here,” but he did not leave his chair, although he was feeling a pain in his shoulders from sitting where he was. In order not to tire Shoshanah, he resolved to leave at nine o’clock. The time came, but he still stayed. They sat talking about Rachel and Leah, and about Frau Ehrlich, Shoshanah’s mother. And this too was strange, that Shoshanah did not know where her mother was born until he told her. He glanced at his watch and found it was nearly ten. Time to leave, he told her; but Shoshanah answered that it wasn’t yet nine o’clock. “It’s already ten,” he said. “Is it really?” said Shoshanah in surprise, and she adjusted her watch. After a while he got up to leave and Shoshanah went out to accompany him. When they had gone halfway, he wanted to turn back and see her home, but she would not allow this. She made her way home, while he waited for his streetcar. He bought a ticket and climbed in. The streetcar filled up and started to move. On its way it kept stopping to take on more and more passengers. Two young fellows got in and one sat on the other’s knees. He heard them talking to one another about Otto Weininger and his book Sex and Character. The journey continued for an hour. And then, oddly enough, Jacob had found himself again sitting with Shoshanah; and it was not yet eleven o’clock, although he had left Shoshanah’s house at ten, and she had accompanied him halfway, and he had even traveled for an hour on the streetcar, and spent an hour at home. How could it be, then, that he was with Shoshanah at nearly eleven o’clock?

XIX

After his meal Rechnitz didn’t linger in the little restaurant and didn’t go back to his room. His habits had changed since the day of the Consul’s arrival in Jaffa; the times when he used to relax over lunch, make his own coffee and read a book, seemed part of prehistory. He said to himself: The Consul will be taking his afternoon nap now. Shoshanah will be sitting in her room arranging her photographs. If that’s where she is, I can take a walk in front of the hotel; and if she is out in the garden, I can walk there, as I did the day before yesterday. But the day before yesterday I was with others, and today I shall be walking alone. That stroll with Rachel and Leah on the day of Shoshanah’s arrival had given him a certain self-confidence in her presence, not because the stroll had made her jealous but for another reason, which was actually the same reason; it showed that Jacob Rechnitz was not isolated from the world and also that she, Shoshanah Ehrlich, was by no means the only woman in that world. In fact he had not intended to take a walk that day, either with Rachel or with Leah, still less with both of them at once; it just happened that Leah had come across him. And so on, and so on. Yet if one looked more deeply into the matter, it seemed that there was another truth here; namely, that Rechnitz was quite in the habit of taking some girl out for a walk, whether her name were Rachel or Leah, or indeed Asnat or Raya or Mira or Tamara.