S. Agnon - Shira

Heinz I was still engaged in conversation with Herbst, in the course of which he mentioned Saint Jerome and his Jewish teacher. So Herbst wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking he was an expert on the subject, he announced, “Everything I know about the Church Fathers I learned from a single lecture by Yohanan Levi. I once went to Jerusalem and up to Mount Scopus. I wanted to see the university. I soon found myself listening to a lecture on Saint Jerome.” “In any case,” Herbst said, “you have a good memory if you remember who his teacher was.” Heinz was quiet, offering no further comment. After a while, he said, “It’s not that my memory is good, but in the course of that lecture Yohanan Levi mentioned that Saint Jerome had misinterpreted a particular biblical verse and remarked that, for Jerome, that teacher was a poor investment. I only remembered Jerome and his Jewish teacher because of that joke.” Herbst said, “Nonetheless, you deserve praise. Because of a silly joke, you remembered what was essential.” Heinz said, “If you mean to praise me, I have to share the credit with Avraham, who was at the lecture too.” Herbst turned to Avraham and said, “I hear you go to lectures. I’m sorry to have missed the privilege of having you in my audience.” Avraham said, “I heard your entire lecture tonight.” Herbst said, “And is it unusual to hear an entire lecture? If you had left in the middle, Dani would accuse you of offending his grandfather. Yes, yes, I forgot — you don’t smoke, so I can’t compensate you for your time with a cigarette. But you, Heinz, surely you smoke? Not you either? Only the girls smoke here.” “The girls?” “Didn’t you notice that the one with Heinz ii was chewing on a butt? But let’s get back to our subject. So, you heard the entire lecture. Tell me this, my dear boy, how many grammatical errors did you find?” Avraham said, “I didn’t find any.” “But my accent is bad?” Avraham said, “An accent tells where you’re from. I can tell you’re from Berlin.” Henrietta said, “You’re not going to argue about accents at this hour?” Manfred said, “We’ve already begun.” Henrietta said, “In that case, stop.” Manfred said, “We’ve stopped.” Heinz said, “This is the place. You can sleep as late as you like. You won’t be disturbed by noise. The person who built this house loved to sleep. He picked a spot on a hill, with no neighbors. If you leave the lights off, even the sand flies will leave you alone. You don’t have to worry about mosquitoes. The windows are well screened, but nothing keeps the sand flies out.” Avraham said, “Since I came to this country, I’ve been hearing about sand flies. I think it’s all a fairy tale.” “A fairy tale?” Avraham said, “In the old days, people were afraid of giants. Now they’re afraid of sand flies.” Henrietta looked at Avraham fondly and said to her husband, “Fred, isn’t it a pleasure to hear such conversation? Tell me, Avraham, haven’t you ever been bitten by a fly?” Avraham said, “Not by a fly, not by a mosquito, not by a scorpion, not by any of those mythical creatures we hear so much about. Why should they sting me? Do I occupy their space? There is room in this country for me and for them.” Heinz said, “Now I understand why you didn’t join us last weekend when we were clearing away the stones in order to get rid of the scorpions.” “Last weekend? I wasn’t here last weekend. I went to Afula to bring Dan and Zahara back.” Herbst said to Avraham, “Didn’t you ever suffer from mosquitoes?” Avraham said, “Yes, of course. One summer they made my vacation so miserable that I gave up and ran away.” “You ran away? Where did you run to?” “To my mother and father in Berlin.” “Berlin? Where were you?” “In Karlsruhe. I had an aunt there, a special aunt, who invited me to spend my vacation in Karlsruhe. I was happier than I had ever been about any aunt, because I was told that my Karlsruhe cousins were going to act out the Karl May stories we used to read. When the vacation began, I went to Karlsruhe. I was attacked by mosquitoes and stung until my hands and face were like sieves. It was impossible to stay outside because of the mosquitoes. Not only was I unable to join in the play, but I couldn’t even walk in the park with my cousins because of the mosquitoes. Yes, they had window screens there.” Heinz said to the Herbsts, “Even though Avraham denies the existence of sand flies, you should be careful. If you can’t get undressed without light, be sure you turn it off immediately, before the sand flies notice. The moon is bright, and there’s actually no need to turn on the light.”

It was nearly midnight when they brought the Herbsts to the house in which they were going to spend the night. It was set on a hill at the edge of the village, away from the other houses, and had two rooms, one an infirmary, the other for the nurse. It had been built by the engineer who planned the kvutza , for himself and his new wife, with the idea that they would come for weekends and vacations. He didn’t spend much time there, so he sold it to the National Fund. The National Fund gave it to the kvutza , and it served as an infirmary, as well as a place for the nurse to live. The house was sold because of something that happened. The engineer and his wife were once on their way to Ahinoam, looking forward to a quiet and pleasant Shabbat. They met up with an Englishman, a government official whose car had broken down on the road. They offered him a ride. He accepted. The engineer invited the Englishman to stop in Ahinoam and have tea with him and his wife. He agreed to join them. Over tea, he told his hosts that he had been living in the country for six years and had never been invited to anyone’s home. The engineer said to his wife, “We ought to make up for all those years of loneliness.” The woman said, “We’ll do our best.” The Englishman spent all of Shabbat, as well as the following day, in the engineer’s house, and his hosts did their best to make his stay pleasant. He grew fond of them and became a frequent caller, almost a member of the household. One day the woman said to the Englishman, “I’m tired of this deception. Rather than cheat on my husband, I’m going to move in with you, and we can always be together.” The woman left her husband’s house and went to live with her lover. The engineer began to detest his country house. He sold it to the National Fund, and it was passed on to the kvutza . That night, it was unoccupied. The nurse who lived there had gone to Jerusalem in the morning, to see the psychiatrist Dr. Heinz Hermann about a young woman who had been attacked by an Arab shepherd and was in emotional shock. Herbst didn’t know that the quarters he and his wife were occupying belonged to the nurse he had met at Shira’s. It’s good that he didn’t know. Had he known, he would have been afraid Zahara would discover that the nurse knew him and that they had met at Shira’s. One further detail: when the nurse returned to the village and heard that Dr. Herbst had stayed in her room, she said, “I’m sorry I missed his lecture,” but she didn’t mention the fact that she knew him.

Zahara hadn’t informed anyone that her parents were used to sleeping in separate rooms. The two of them were given one room, the nurse’s room. The infirmary couch was brought in, and the two beds were set up side by side. The Herbsts came into the room. The scent of flowers, along with that of fresh linens, conveyed the fact that these were welcome guests. Henrietta put down the myrtle, undressed, took the flowers out of the room, got into bed, said good night to Manfred, lowered her eyelids, and succumbed to sleep.

Manfred found it odd to be sleeping in the same room as Henrietta, which he hadn’t done for many years. From the time she became pregnant with Sarah, they hadn’t slept in the same room even once. Now, all of a sudden, they were in the same room, and their beds were so close they were within arm’s reach of one another. Henrietta paid no attention. As soon as she got into bed, she dozed off, and, now that she was covered by the light blanket Zahara had brought her, she succumbed to the deep sleep decreed by the day’s activities.