S. Agnon - Shira

Her name is Ursula Katz, and she comes from Vienna. Her eyes are large and kind, assuming a blue cast when they laugh. Her cheeks are fresh and full; she is altogether fresh and vibrant. She has soft, blonde hair, not shorn or bobbed, but arranged in four curly braids. Her lips are somewhat fleshy, but they are permeated by a smile that tempers their sensual quality and makes the flesh seem delicate. She is wearing a soft, brown blouse, embroidered with gold thread, open at the top to bare her graceful neck, which is circled by a thin, black chain. The beads are linked by dots of silver, whose glow rises up to meet the laughter in her eyes that turn all things blue, then plunges downward to be reflected in her fingernails. Her shoulders are covered, not exposed; what is exposed about her is a refreshing warmth that clings to her shoulders. But for the fact that she is skilled in office work — typing, shorthand, and the like — we would connect her with another time, three or four generations back, when a girl’s honor derived from her beauty, modesty, and reserve.

Across from her, on the upholstered chair that looks out to the garden, sat Dr. Taglicht. He was there because of Ursula, which involved a bit of magic. This is the story. When they were on the bus coming into town, Tamara asked Ursula, “Do you have any friends or acquaintances in Jerusalem?” Ursula said, “No one I know personally, but my father knows someone here who was at the university with him, or in some similar situation. He told me to look him up when I get to Jerusalem.” Tamara said, “I suppose your father told you his name?” Ursula laughed and said, “What you suppose is not far from the truth. Father did tell me the name.” Tamara said, “Perhaps you remember his name?” Ursula said, “I remember his name.” Tamara said, “If it isn’t one of those Russian or Polish names, like those of the Zionist leaders that very few people here can pronounce without great difficulty, perhaps it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you to tell me his name.” Ursula said, “His name is simple and bright, like the light of day.” Tamara said, “Could his name be Taglicht?” Ursula said, “I see, Tamara, that you know even more than I’ve told you. His name is Taglicht, Dr. Taglicht.” As they continued this bantering exchange, the bus arrived at the station, and they got off. Tamara saw Dr. Taglicht strolling by and called to him. Dr. Taglicht came over. She said to him, “Here’s your chance to be chivalrous. You can help two distinguished ladies get their luggage off the bus.” Taglicht said, “At your service, mademoiselle.” Tamara said, “And at the service of this lady as well. Meet Ursula Katz.” “Ursula Katz…Ursula Katz. Are you by any chance related to Dr. Ferdinand Katz, a lawyer and notary?” Tamara said, “If it’s not beneath your dignity, doctor, she is the daughter of that gentleman.” Taglicht joined them immediately and accompanied them to the Herbst home. The three of them sat talking incessantly. Taglicht had many questions about Ursula’s father and how he was faring in these dreadful times. Ursula gave leisurely answers. Having expended all her cleverness on Tamara, she was giving straightforward answers now, responses that fit the questions. She wasn’t enraged by Nazi actions; she didn’t bemoan her fate. She and her entire family had left their home and had stayed in hiding for months, until she succeeded in escaping from Vienna, getting on a boat, and entering this country. Taglicht had already heard stories like those Ursula had to tell. She told them everything, and if he asked more questions, he would gain no new knowledge. Ursula had a simple view of things. She saw only the surface of events, making no attempt to look inside. And, if I’m not mistaken, she repeated the same ideas in the very same words. Nevertheless, from what she said, one could reconstruct the development of events. So Taglicht already knew what he wanted to know. Isn’t it amazing — just a short time before I met Ursula, it didn’t occur to me that someone like that existed. Now, all of a sudden, my heart is full…. Actually, that’s not how it was. The fact is, she and her entire family slipped out of his mind immediately. Even as they were engaged in conversation, she had already slipped out of his mind, because of other things. If I were to put them into words, this is roughly how it would be: Tamara is candid and open, but she also has an opaque and elusive aspect. These traits, all of which include their opposites, should be investigated. Most young women in this country are open and candid, having been born and raised under the bright and open skies of the Land of Israel. Tamara’s opaque and elusive quality is self-generated and derives from many sources, not necessarily related to the fact that she belongs to an underground group, be it the Irgun or Lehi.

Having mentioned that Tamara went back to her parents’ home, that she belongs to an underground group, and that she brought home a friend, this is the appropriate place to note that the trips Tamara referred to, such as the one to negotiate a teaching job, are fictions she fabricated to hide her activities from her parents; this is true of her classes in Mekor Hayim and of various other activities. As for Ursula, Ursula has no connection with these matters. Tamara befriended Ursula with no practical motive. Tamara befriended Ursula because of Ursula’s beauty, kindness, freshness — because of all the qualities one finds in those who have no dealings ‘with politics.

They sat there talking. Tamara, Ursula, and Taglicht. Tamara said, “Wasn’t it good that I invited you, Dr. Taglicht? When Ursula told me her father had told her about you, I called out to you right away. As soon as Ursula and I got off the bus, I called to you. When did you know her father? When you were in Vienna? Yes, Ursula is Viennese, like all the Viennese whose parents came from Galicia. You’re Galician too, aren’t you? I don’t mean to embarrass you, doctor. I’m sure there are some decent people among the Galicians. Please, doctor, don’t get the idea that I mean to compliment you. What do you actually do? You’re not a lecturer. You don’t publish books. So why do they say you’re a scholar? Papa Manfred says so too. Isn’t that so, Manfred? I call him Manfred. I can’t call him Fred, because Mother has a monopoly on that name. I call Mother Mother, because the name Henrietta is too long, and it doesn’t fit the environment here in the Land of Israel.” Henrietta said, “Please, Tamara, don’t talk nonsense.” Tamara said, “Do you think, Mother, that Dr. Taglicht is here to glean wisdom from me? If he wanted wisdom, he wouldn’t have come. Isn’t that true, doctor? Be honest and tell the truth.” Henrietta laughed and said, “Dr. Taglicht, did you ever see such a strange creature? I don’t know whom she resembles. Not me, not Herbst.” Tamara said, “If I resembled others, they would bore me. Tell me, Ursula, whom do you resemble?” Herbst said, “Could we change the subject?” Tamara said, “Yes, of course. Say something, and we’ll listen. I read your article, Papa. About a certain empress whose name I forget. I have nothing against scholarship, and I have nothing against history. Still, I have to tell you, dear Manfred, if I were to sit and repeat the sort of things historians write, you would scold me for engaging in gossip and slander. I used to think our history was boring, until I began to be a good daughter, took your advice, and began reading world history, as you suggested. I think that particular enterprise induces all sorts of bad habits. Dr. Taglicht probably disagrees, but that doesn’t change anything.” Herbst said, “And the romances you pore over?” Tamara said, “Which romances are you referring to? The ones I read or the ones I create?” Herbst said, “You’re writing a romance?” Tamara said, “Scholars are strange. In their minds, anything you do takes the form of writing. There are romances, dear Papa, that aren’t written, and let me confide to you, in a whisper, that they are the most interesting ones.” Herbst said, “Then you are involved in romances there with those teachers?” Tamara laughed and said, “Have you ever seen the likes of these people? They think the entire globe is occupied by teachers. Papa, my sweet, there are other types in the world, apart from teachers, lecturers, professors. Dr. Taglicht, are you a teacher too?” Taglicht said, “I am a teacher, a reluctant one.” Tamara looked at him and asked, “What do you mean, ‘reluctant’?” Taglicht said, “Like you.” Tamara said, “I’m actually happy to be a teacher, but a teacher’s wife — that’s an honor I would decline.” Taglicht asked, “Whose wife would you like to be?” Tamara answered, “Only time will tell. Those who write good romances let Amnon die a thousand deaths before he marries Tamar.” “And Tamar sits tight, calm, and confident, waiting.” “Why shouldn’t she be confident? She knows from the start that Amnon is totally committed to her.” “And if Amnon finds someone else, someone more attractive?” “Ursula, you answer him.” “Me?” Ursula answered in alarm. “In your place, I would have said, ‘If Amnon is such a fool, he doesn’t deserve my attention, not even for a moment.’“ “It’s that extreme, Tamara? Excuse me, I meant to say Tamar. Tamar is so rational from the beginning that she is capable of resolving to renounce Amnon?” “I don’t know whether or not she is rational, but I know that, even if all the others, whose names I have forgotten, even if all the others, are more attractive than Tamar, Amnon won’t forget Tamar.” “That’s enough!” Herbst shouted in a rage. Henrietta looked at him, surprised. Herbst caught her gaze and brushed his hand over his face, as if to brush away his rage. Tamara said, “Mother, what did you prepare for these honorable guests who have honored you with their presence?” Henrietta said, “A good daughter goes into the kitchen and prepares something for the honorable guests.” “And what does the good daughter do if she herself is an honorable guest?” Henrietta laughed and said, “If only we had such a daughter.” Tamara said, “It’s possible that just such a daughter is fluttering around inside, eager to emerge.” Henrietta said, “Stop babbling. Come, let’s get supper ready.” “Who will take charge of Dr. Taglicht? Who will take charge of Ursula? Isn’t it my job to make sure our guests aren’t bored? Come, Ursula, let’s help the lady of the house prepare us a feast. I’m really hungry. Surely you’re hungry too, Ursula. Good conversation is a good thing, but it doesn’t satisfy hunger.”