S. Agnon - Shira

Professor Bachlam was a religious man. While he had sharp criticism for various Jewish practices, and wrote critically of various superstitious customs, he was strict about most mitzvot and never violated the Sabbath. Therefore he didn’t put the light on in the room, but hinted to his wife that she might turn it on. When the light was lit the Herbsts got up to leave, but the professor detained them, first in the room, then in the hallway, and finally in the foyer. In the end he escorted them out, asking them to return soon for another visit. Outside there remained a bit of daylight, with cars carrying Sabbath travelers filling the street. Mrs. Herbst wanted to walk back to town on foot, but along the way felt very weary and wished to take a taxi, which Herbst agreed to do, since while talking with Professor Bachlam he thought of various things he wanted to fix in his article, and feared the long walk by foot would cause him to forget.

Sitting in the car Mrs. Herbst remarked to her husband, This man we were visiting has no love in his heart, not for a single person in this world. Herbst replied, But he has great love for the greatest man in Israel. Mrs. Herbst asked, Who is the greatest man in Israel that Professor Bachlam loves? Herbst answered, He is the one! Professor Bachlam himself is the great man in all his glory. In any case, it’s good that we made the visit. Perhaps on account of it he won’t stand in my way, or at least he’ll soften his objection to me. Mrs. Herbst sighed and said, If only !

— Translated by Jeffrey Saks

(* Agnon had left these facts — particular newly coined Hebrew words, or topic of Meier’s 1,200 page book — blank in the MS., apparently planning on filling in at a later point.)

[This chapter, which originally appeared at the end of Book Three, was meant to be the final one. However, at a later date, Agnon put it aside and began writing Book Four.]

Shira came and stood in the tree, looking straight ahead with bewildered eyes. When she saw Manfred, she shrieked, a fierce and bitter shriek: “What are you doing here?” Manfred answered her and said, “Shira, I’m here because of you.” Shira raised her voice and said, “What madness! You had better get out while you can.” Manfred said, “Let me tell you something.” Shira shouted, “Madman, get out!” Manfred said, “I beg of you, calm down, and I’ll tell you something.” Shira said, “I don’t want to hear what a fool has to tell.” Manfred whispered, “Shira.” Shira turned away from him and was about to go. Manfred said, “Stay a minute and listen. Then you can go.”

Shira watched him and waited. Manfred said, “Give me your hand, Shira.” Shira said, “You must have lost your mind. Don’t you know what you’re risking here?” Manfred nodded and said, “I know, I know.” Shira said, “And you still want to take the risk?” Manfred sighed and said, “Whether I want to or not, I have no choice.” Shira studied him with her searching gaze and inquired, “How is one to understand your words?” Manfred said, “It doesn’t require much wisdom to understand. What I am saying is simple and obvious. I need to be with you, Shira. Even if…” Shira said, “What do you mean, ‘even if?” Manfred said, “Even if I end up in your situation.” Shira said, “What will your wife say? What will your daughters say?” Manfred said, “You ask what my wife will say and what my daughters will say. I have thought about all that. I have also thought about the son borne to me by my wife.” Shira said, “You have a son? Mazel tov.” She extended her hand to congratulate him, but, before touching him, she withdrew it.

Manfred continued, “Yes, Shira. A child was born to me; I was granted a son. He was admitted to the covenant of Abraham today. Do you remember, Shira, the night my daughter Sarah was born? After three daughters, my wife bore me a son, and the brit was today.” Shira said, “And you couldn’t find a time to visit me other than today?” Manfred said, “Shira, if it had been in my hands, I would have come sooner.” Shira said, “The last time I saw you, you didn’t seem especially enthralled with me. Remember, the day I bought new shoes?” Manfred nodded and said, “Yes, I remember.” Shira leaned against the wall and lifted her leg to display a lovely, graceful shoe, shaped rather like a sandal. Herbst studied the shoe for a while and said, “Yes, a sandal.” For a while he was silent. Then he sighed, a deep sigh, and asked, “Shira, how did you get here?” Shira said, “How did I get here? I came willingly. I may have come, not on my own and not willingly, but through the will of a power whose decrees determine our fate. Do you remember, Manfred, that I once told you I had been the companion of a Spanish prince and that I took him to the leper colony in Breslau?” Manfred nodded and said, “Yes, yes, Shira, I know. I have often thought about that. I assume that it’s because of him that you are where you are.” Shira said, “So you had better get out while you still can, my friend.” Manfred said, “My dear Shira, I have decided otherwise.” Shira fixed her eyes on him and asked, “Just what did you decide?” Manfred laughed sadly and said, “Can’t you see?” Shira said, “I can’t see anything, and I don’t want to see anything. But I can tell you this — get out! Get out of here, get out immediately!” Manfred said, “If I do go, I’ll come right back. Immediately.” Shira was mystified and asked, “Why? Why do you say that if you go you’ll come back?” Manfred said, “Why? As if I know why. Perhaps this too is the decree of that power whose will determines our actions.”

Shira stood gazing at him in silence. Manfred said, “When I was a child, I read a story about an Indian holy man. There was a beautiful woman living in this holy man’s town, who was pursued by all the men. I won’t prolong the tale, nor will I try to tell you about her beauty and about all the men and their attempts to approach her. But I can tell you this: that monk, that holy man, was the only one in the entire land who had no interest in approaching her, even in looking at her. She sent a message inviting him to visit her, but he didn’t come. She sent another message, but he didn’t come. In time, she was stricken with leprosy, and all her admirers kept their distance. He, however, went to see her. She said to him, ‘My beloved, my holy one, you are too late. I can’t be anything to you now.’ Do you hear me, Shira?” Shira said, “I hear you. And what was that holy man’s response?” Manfred said, “I don’t remember his response, but I remember the end of the story.” Shira said, “What is the end of the story?” Manfred said, “Wait, Shira. I already recalled the end of the story.” Shira said, “Then what is the end of the story?” Manfred said, “In the end, though she had so many admirers, only he stayed with her.” Shira said, “And what did he say to her?” Manfred said, “He said this to her: ‘In your days of glory, I could already foresee your end.” Shira said, “And you saw in me just what that holy man saw?” Manfred said, “I didn’t see those things but…How can I tell you? I once read a poem, and I found a line in it that sticks to my tongue.” “What is it?” “‘Flesh such as yours will not soon be forgotten.’“

While they were standing there, a nurse came and said to Dr. Herbst, “Doctor, it’s time to take leave of the lady.” Manfred said, “Dear nurse, would you allow me to stay just a few minutes more?” The nurse said, “You can stay another five minutes. Five minutes, and no more.” Manfred bowed to the nurse and stood before her in an attitude of mock reverence, saying, “Many thanks to you, kind lady. May the Lord respond to your prayers.” He turned back to Shira rather suddenly and said, “He — that is to say, the Indian — stayed on with her.” Then he said to her, in an altered voice, “And I intend to do what that Indian did. I’m going to stay with you, Shira.” He seized Shira’s hand and held on to it. Shira tried to extricate her hand from his. But he held on to it, fervently, until her hand and his were both bathed in sweat. As he held her hand, he leaned his mouth over hers and kissed it. For a long time, her lips clung to his, of their own accord. She suddenly slipped her mouth away from his and brushed his lips with her hand. Then she brushed her own lips. He, in the meanwhile, embraced her lovingly and exclaimed, “Shira, Shira.”