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

As a boy, I answered, I copied such a scroll exactly in the manner prescribed; and, believe this or not, everyone who saw that scroll praised it.

Said Tehilla, Although I have not seen it, I am sure you know how to write in a good straight script, without a single flaw. Now I shall make ready for you a glass of herb tea, while you proceed with your writing.

Please do not trouble, I said, for I have already taken something to drink.

If so, how shall I show hospitality? I know: I shall slice you a piece of sugar-loaf; then you can say a blessing, and I can add, Amen.

She gave me some of the sugar. Then, after a short silence, she said:

Take up the quill and write. I shall speak in Yiddish, but you will write in the holy tongue. I have heard that now they teach the girls both to write and to speak the holy Hebrew language: you see, my son, how the good Lord is constantly improving His world from age to age. When I was a child, this was not their way. But at least I understand my Hebrew prayer-book, and can read from the Bible, and the Psalms, and the Ethics of the Fathers. — Oh dear, oh dear, today I have not finished my day!

I knew that she meant the day’s portion of the Psalms, and said to her: Instead of grieving you should rather be glad.

Glad?

Yes, I said, for the delay is from heaven, that one day more might be added to your sum of days.

She sighed, and said: If I knew that tomorrow our Redeemer would come, gladly would I drag out another day in this world. But as day follows day, and still our true Redeemer tarries and comes not, what is my life? And what is my joy? God forbid that I should complain of my years: if it pleases Him to keep me in life, it pleases me also. Yet I cannot help but ask how much longer these bones must carry their own burden. So many younger women have been privileged to set up their rest on the Mount of Olives, while I remain to walk on my feet, till I think I shall wear them away. And is it not better to present oneself in the World on High while one’s limbs are all whole, and return the loan of the body intact? I do not speak of putting on flesh, which is only an extra burden for the pall-bearers. But at least it is good to die with whole limbs. Again I am speaking too much: but now what matters it, a word less, or a word more? I am now fully prepared to return the deposit of my body, earth back to earth. — Take up your quill, my son, and write.

I dipped the quill pen in the ink, made ready the paper, and waited for Tehilla to speak. But she was lost in her thoughts, and seemed unaware of my presence. I sat there and gazed at her, my eyes taking in every wrinkle and furrow of her face. How many experiences she had undergone! She was in the habit of saying that she had seen good things, and yet better things. From what I had been told, these things could not have been so good. The adage was true of her, that the righteous wear mourning in their hearts, and joy upon their faces.

Tehilla became aware of me and, turning her head, said, Have you begun?

You have not told me what I am to write.

She said: The beginning does not need to be told. We commence by giving praise to God. Write: With the help of the Holy Name, blessed be He.

I smoothed the paper, shook the quill, and wrote, With the help of the Holy Name, blessed be He.

She sat up, looked at what I had written, and said: Good; very good. And now what next? Write as follows: From the Holy City, Jerusalem, may she be built and established, speedily and in our days, Amen. In conversation I only say “Jerusalem,” without additions. But in writing, it is proper that we should bring to mind the holiness of Jerusalem, and add a plea for her to be rebuilt; that the reader may take Jerusalem to his heart, and know that she is in need of mercy, and say a prayer for her. Now, my son, write the day of the week, and the Torah portion of the week, and the number of years since the creation.

When I had set down the full date, she continued:

Now write, in a bold hand, and as carefully as you can, the letter Lamed. — Have you done this? Show me how it looks. There is no denying that it is a good Lamed , though perhaps it could have been a trifle larger. Now, my son, continue with Khaf , and after the Khaf write Bet , and after it Vay. — Vav , I was saying, and now comes Dalet. Show me now the whole word, Likhvod, “ To the honorable —.” Very fine indeed. It is only right that the respectful prefix should be attractively written. Now add to that, “the esteemed Rabbi”—ah, you have already done so! You write faster than I think: while I am collecting my thoughts, you have already set them down. Truly your father — may he rest in peace — did not waste the cost of your education. My son, forgive me, for I am so tired. Let us leave the writing of the letter till another day. When is it convenient for you to come?

Shall I come tomorrow? I said.

Tomorrow? Do you wish it? What day is tomorrow?

It is the day before New Moon.

The eve of the New Moon is a good day for this thing. Then let it be tomorrow.

I saw that she was inwardly grieved, and thought to myself: The day before New Moon is a time for prayer and supplication, a time for visits to the tomb of Rachel our Mother; surely she will not be able to attend to her letter. Aloud I said to her: If you are not free tomorrow I shall come on some other day.

And why not tomorrow?

Just because it is the day before the New Moon.

She said: My son, you bring my sorrow before me, that on such a day I should be unable to go to Rachel our Mother.

I asked why she could not go.

Because my feet cannot carry me there.

There are carriages, I said, and autobuses as well.

Said Tehilla, When I first came to Jerusalem there were none of these autobustles , or whatever they are called. There were not even carriages; so we used to walk. And since I have gone on foot for so long, it is now hardly worth changing my ways. Did you not say you are able to come tomorrow? If it pleases God to grant my wish, my life will be prolonged for yet a day more.

I left her and went on my way; and the following day I returned.

I do not know if there was any real need to return so soon. Possibly if I had waited longer, it would have extended her life.

AS soon as I entered, I perceived a change. Tehilla’s face, that always had about it a certain radiance, was doubly radiant. Her room shone out too. The stone floor was newly polished, and so were all the ornaments in the room. A white sheet was spread over the little bed in the corner, and the skirtings of the walls were freshly color-washed blue. On the table stood the jar, with its parchment cover, and a lamp and sealing-wax were placed at its side. When had she found time to paint the walls, and to clean the floor, and to polish all her utensils? Unless angels did her work, she must have toiled the night long.

She rose to welcome me, and said in a whisper:

I am glad that you have come. I was afraid you might forget, and I have a little business matter to attend to.

If you have somewhere to go, I said, I shall come back later.

I have to go and confirm my lease. But since you are here, sit down, and let us proceed with the letter. Then afterwards I shall go about my lease.

She set the paper before me and fetched the ink and the quill pen. I took up the quill pen and dipped it in the ink and waited for her to dictate her message.

Are you ready? she said. Then I am ready, too!

As she spoke the word ‘ready,’ her face seemed to light up and a faint smile came to her lips. Again I prepared to write, and waited for her next words.

Where did we leave off? she said. Was it not with the phrase, To the honorable and eminent Rabbi? Now you shall write his name.