S. Agnon - Shira

There are times, when Herbst is with his books — a cup of coffee at his side, a cigarette in hand, new documents spread out before him on his desk, his notes arranged by subject — when it seems to him that all the world’s tangles are in the process of being unraveled. Even if he should have to move to another house and relocate his books, which he estimates at five thousand volumes, he has a strategy. What is it? You take out the books, row by row, tie a string around each row, put them in boxes, mark each box A, B, C, D, et cetera, and mark the bookcases with numbers and the shelves with letters, so, when it comes time to unpack them, there is no confusion. He has already had a word with Moshe the Assyrian, Jerusalem’s chief porter, who is intelligent and strong — who transports pianos from one end of Jerusalem to the other — and he nodded his beard at him to signify agreement.

As I noted, it sometimes seems to Herbst that the world has become less and less tangled. To confirm this, he would remind himself of what happened to him with Shira and be glad that his heart was purged of her. In which case, what did he see in her to begin with? Why was he ever attracted to her? It was an accident of fate. Just as a person can make a mistake, fate can also make a mistake. All those events were one extended accident. Some errors can never be purged, but Herbst’s error is not one of those. Just as he seeks nothing from Shira, so Shira seeks nothing from him. The fact that she doesn’t show herself to him is evidence. To celebrate his soul, now liberated from its delusion, Herbst goes to his wife and embraces her, whispering sweet nothings invented at that moment. He takes pleasure in his wife, and his wife takes pleasure in him. Those who assume that an older man is no longer capable of inventing an amorous phrase for his wife are mistaken. Seeing Manfred and Henrietta together, although he is past forty-three and she is about thirty-nine — perhaps forty-one — one cannot but marvel and acknowledge that the love displayed by this middle-aged couple may even surpass the love of youngsters. Subjecting himself to the ultimate test, Manfred repeats that verse in a whisper: “Flesh such as yours will not soon be forgotten.” Whether or not you believe it, the verse is no longer associated with Shira.

Having observed that the world is being restored and that its tangles are in the process of being unraveled, I should get back to Tamara, whose footsteps don’t always lead her to Mekor Hayim. I wouldn’t be divulging secrets or gossiping if I were to disclose that I once saw her learning how to handle weapons with some comrades and that they were not from the Haganah, but from the Stern Gang. Her mother and father don’t know about this, but British Intelligence, from whom nothing is hidden, has her name in their files. They still pretend not to know, but, when it suits them, we will feel the impact of their knowledge. For the moment, I’ll say no more about Tamara’s activities. In fact, I might as well dismiss her entirely, rather than risk getting sidetracked, by her story, when my real purpose is to tell about Herbst and Shira. Similarly, I’ll say no more about Zahara, to whom so much has happened that, even if I were to write about her, I couldn’t cover everything. I’ll say no more about the daughters and get back to the father of these daughters.

Manfred’s life is in good order; Henrietta’s life is in good order too. His work is bearing fruit; her belly is bearing fruit. His manuscript continues to grow thicker; her body continues to expand. It’s a pleasure to see the two of them together. When they are together, his spiritual quality becomes physical compared to hers, and her physical quality becomes spiritual. That is to say, Manfred’s entire thick manuscript has physical reality compared to Henrietta’s baby. True, her face is drawn and very wrinkled, and her cheeks have several blotches of color, which are not attractive. She is wan, and her bearing is slovenly. But the new light shining from her eyes is the light that wells up in mothers, who are the foundation of the world and make it possible for the world to survive.

At about this time, it was Henrietta’s birthday. Manfred went to town and bought some pretty sandals, pretty and just right for Henrietta. True, the doctor had advised her to pay attention to her shoes, to wear only sturdy footwear, and, of course, to avoid high heels, as her arches were weak and she could become flat-footed. But is it possible to heed all medical advice? It was a lovely moment when Henrietta extended her feet so Manfred could help her slip into the new sandals he had bought her. Little Sarah laughed when she saw her mother suddenly turned into a baby, having her shoes put on for her.

I will say a word or two about little Sarah’s cleverness. After watching her mother, she asked whether the baby inside her mother was wearing sandals too. What’s so clever about this? She was such a clever little girl that she didn’t wait for anyone to come and tell her, “The stork is going to bring you a sister, a brother, a doll to play with.” She knew on her own that the baby was growing out of her mother’s heart, just as flowers grow out of the belly of the earth.

There are many more things to tell, but they might divert us from the story itself. I will therefore disregard them and tell about something that happened to Manfred. That night, after Manfred said goodnight to Henrietta and got into his bed, healthy and intact, his heart filled with good cheer and his soul content, he saw in his dream something he had heard about from Shira. A small object was walking around the room, but it wasn’t walking happily, and it made a sound like that of a new shoe. When Manfred looked to see what was walking around the room, he saw that it was a sandal. Startled out of his sleep, he looked up and saw that beggar, the Turk. He was there with Shira. They both entered the sandal and disappeared. Once again he was astonished, as he had been the day he brought Henrietta to the hospital to give birth to Sarah, when he observed the very same phenomenon. How can two people fit into a sandal, which is only one of the body’s trappings? Manfred’s dismay was exceeded by his sorrow over the fact that Shira had vanished.

In the morning, Manfred was sad. The dream he had dreamed that night disturbed him by day. Morning light was already beginning to shine, erasing all traces of the night, but his dream was not erased. A more painful consequence: while dreaming his dream, he had been lying in bed, his body seemingly relaxed. Now that he was out of bed, he had to drag himself around, his dream trailing behind him, allowing him no respite from either his body or his dream. For an instant, his dream seemed to be gone; the next instant, it recurred, and he couldn’t get his mind off it. When Henrietta saw he was depressed, she suggested that he go into town. She was wise enough not to ask why he was sad; she simply suggested that he go into town, where he would find distraction. On days when he didn’t have to go to the university, he used to spend the morning at home in his study, dressed in old clothes and slippers, so it was hard for him suddenly to mobilize, change his clothes, and go into town. Further, it would be a waste of time, and he didn’t even know what he would do in town. He began to look around his room for things to occupy himself with instead, which was his usual tactic when he couldn’t work any longer. As soon as he became involved in something, his passion for work was aroused, and he could get back to his routine. Henrietta, who knew him better than he knew himself, repeated, “Go into town and don’t wear yourself out needlessly.” He listened to her and went into town. Whether or not you believe it, on the way into town he met that blind beggar, the Turk, who stared at Herbst with his mocking, blind eyes. On the face of it, this was an ordinary event, for it is in the nature of beggars to wander everywhere seeking alms. But Herbst didn’t consider it an ordinary event. Because of it, he was even sadder than before. All of a sudden, it occurred to Herbst that this, too, was merely a dream. To test whether he was dreaming or awake, he took out a pack of cigarettes and approached the blind man, intending to say, “My friend, would you like a cigarette?”