S. Agnon - Two Scholars Who Were in our Town and other Novellas

I made my way home and my body shook all over. My bones quaked from the cold as I walked, and I told myself: once home it will pass. But when I got home, rather than diminish the fever only grew worse. I lost all desire to eat and my throat burned. Kaila brewed me some tea and added sugar and a slice of lemon. I drank the tea and lay on my bed and pulled up the covers. But I was not warmed.

I awoke, my throat burning. And I lit a candle and then snuffed it out, for its flickering flame hurt my eyes. The wick’s thin curl of smoke and my cold hands only increased my discomfort. The clock struck and I took fright, as I imagined that I was late in meeting Mazal in the forest. I counted the hours and prayed to God to keep the hour we’d arranged to meet from ever arriving. Three, four, five. Ah, I should get up, but I was overcome by sleep. Why couldn’t I sleep until now? Soon I would meet Mazal, a restless night in my eyes. I must get out of bed and rid myself of any traces of sleep. But how can I wash when I have caught such a bad cold? I fumbled against the bedposts and finally managed to get out of bed. I shivered from cold and knew not where I stood. Here is the doorway, or is it the closet door? Where are the matches, and where the window? Why has Kaila drawn the curtains? I could slip and crack my skull against the table or stove — damn it! Where is the lamp? This time I won’t find a thing, perhaps I’ve been struck blind. And now, just as I’ve lost all hope of finding myself a man, Akaviah Mazal will take me to be his wedded wife, and as one who leads the blind, so will Mr. Mazal lead me. Ah, why did I even dare talk to him? I have found my bed, thanks to a merciful God. I lay on the bed and covered myself, yet I fancied that I was still on my feet, walking. I tramped for a good many hours. Where to? An old woman stood by the road waiting for me to ask her the way. Wasn’t she the old woman I first saw last month, when one bright day I ventured out of town? The old woman opened her mouth. “Here she is,” she said. “I barely recognized you, aren’t you Leah’s daughter? Aren’t you Leah’s daughter,” the old woman exclaimed, snuffing tobacco. And prattling on she did not allow me a word in edgewise. I nodded my head: Yes, I was Leah’s daughter. The old woman said, “I said you were Leah’s daughter didn’t I, while you swept by me as if it did not matter a straw. The lambs are ignorant of the pastures where their mothers grazed.” The old woman snuffed a second time, “Did I not nurse your mother with my own milk?” I knew this to be a dream, yet I was confused: my mother had never been nursed at the breast of a stranger, how dare the old woman claim she had nursed my mother. I hadn’t seen the old woman for a great many days, nor had I thought of her, and this gave me further cause for surprise. So why had she suddenly accosted me in my dream? Wondrous are the ways of dreams and who knows their paths.

My father’s footsteps woke me and I saw that he was sad. He gazed at me with tenderness through his bloodshot eyes. I felt ashamed of the mess in my room. My new dress and my stockings lay scattered on the floor. For a moment I forgot it was my father who stood before me, all I could think of was that a man was present in my room. I shut my eyes, filled with shame. I then heard my father’s voice addressing Kaila, who stood by the door, “She’s asleep.” “Good morning, father,” I called out, no longer ashamed. “Weren’t you sleeping? So how are you my child?” “I’m fine,” I replied, straining to speak in a clear voice, but a spasm of coughing took hold of me. “I caught a slight cold and now I will get up, for my cold is over.” “Thank God!” my father said. “But I suggest that you stay in bed today my child.” “No, I must get up,” I cried out stubbornly, for I imagined my father would prevent me from going to my groom.

I knew that I had to throw myself on my father’s mercy. Perhaps he would forgive me for having done that which is forbidden. My good father, my good father, I called out from within my heart, and I took courage and exclaimed, “Father, I was betrothed yesterday.” My father stared at me. I longed to lower my eyes, yet took heart and called out, “Father, didn’t you hear?” My father remained silent, thinking I had spoken out of my fever, and he whispered something to Kaila that I could not hear. He then went to the window to see if it was shut. Regaining my strength I sat up in bed and said to him “Although I caught a chill I am now better, sit by the bed, for I have something to tell you. Let Kaila come too, I have no secrets to hide.” My father’s eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets and worry dimmed their light. He sat on the bed and I said, “Yesterday I met and spoke to Mazal. Father, what is wrong?” “You are a bad girl,” Kaila exclaimed, frightened. “Hush, Kaila,” I retorted. “I have opened my heart to Mazal. But why go on like this, I am betrothed to him.” “Who ever heard of such a thing?” Kaila exclaimed, wringing her hands in despair. My father calmed Kaila down and asked, “When was this done?” “I do not remember,” I replied, “even though I glanced at my watch I have forgotten the hour.” “Have you ever heard of such a thing,” my father said in embarrassment and laughed. “She doesn’t know when it happened.” I too laughed and all at once I heaved a deep sigh and my body shook. “Calm down, Tirtza,” my father said in a worried voice. “Lie in bed for a while, later we will talk.” And as he turned to go I called out after him, “Father, promise not to speak to Mazal until I tell you to do so.” “What can I do,” he exclaimed, and left the house.

As soon as he had gone, I took pen, ink and paper and wrote: My dearly beloved, I won’t be able to come today to the forest, for I have caught a cold. Several days hence I will come to you. In the meantime, be well. I am lying in bed and I am happy, for you dwell in my thoughts all day, undisturbed. I then bade Kaila send the letter. “To whom have you written,” she asked, letter in hand, “the teacher?” Knowing that Kaila did not know how to read or write, I replied in anger, “Read and find out for yourself.” “Don’t foam at the mouth, my bird,” Kaila said. “The man is old while you are young and full of life. Why, you are just a child and barely weaned at that. If it weren’t for my rheumatism I would carry you in my arms. But I have been thinking of your decision. Why fuss over a man?” “Good, good, good,” I cried out laughing. “Hurry now and send the letter, for there is no time to waste.” “But you haven’t drunk your tea yet,” Kaila said. “Let me bring you something hot to drink and water to wash your hands with.” Kaila soon returned with the water. The chill subsided somewhat, my body grew warm under the bedcovers, and my weary bones seemed to melt into the sheets. Although my head burned, its heat was soothing. My eyes flamed in their sockets, and yet my heart was content and my thoughts had calmed. “Look, you’ve let the tea go cold,” Kaila exclaimed, “and I’ve already brought you something hot to drink. It’s all because of your endless brooding and soul-searching.” I laughed and was overcome by a pleasant weariness. I barely managed to call out, “Don’t forget the letter,” before a welcome slumber settled over my eyes.

The day waned and Mintshi Gottlieb arrived. “I heard you were ill,” she said, “and I have come to see how you are feeling.” I knew my father had sent for her and so I concealed my thoughts and said, “I caught cold, but now I am well.” Suddenly I seized hold of her hand and stared into her eyes, and said, “Why are you so quiet, Mrs. Gottlieb?” “But we haven’t stopped talking,” Mintshi replied. “Although we haven’t stopped talking we haven’t mentioned what is really important.” “What’s so important?” Mintshi exclaimed in surprise. And suddenly she added sourly, “Did you expect me to congratulate you?” I placed my right hand over my heart and thrust my left hand towards her, crying, “Indeed, why haven’t you congratulated me?” Mintshi frowned. “Don’t you know, Tirtza, that Mazal is very dear to me, and you are a young girl, while he is forty years old? Even though you are young, you can plainly see that a few years hence he will be like a withered tree whereas your youthful charm will only grow.” I listened and then cried out, “I knew what you would say, but I will do what I must.” “What you must?” exclaimed Mrs. Gottlieb in astonishment. “The obligations of a faithful woman who loves her husband,” I replied, laying stress on my last words. Mrs. Gottlieb was silent for a moment and then opened her mouth and said, “When are you meeting?” I glanced at my watch. “If my letter has not reached him yet then he will now be waiting for me in the forest.” “He will not wait for you in the forest,” Mintshi said, “for he too has surely caught cold. Who knows if he isn’t lying in bed? Why, you have behaved like schoolchildren. I can scarcely believe my ears.” “Is he ill?” I asked, alarmed by her words. “How can I know if he is ill?” Mintshi replied. “It certainly is possible. Haven’t you behaved like little children, sallying into the forest on a winter day in a summer dress?” “No!” I cried out. “I wore a spring dress on a spring day.” “Heaven forbid,” she said, “if I have offended your pride by saying you wore a summer dress on a winter day.”