Aharon Appelfeld - Until the Dawn's Light

Meanwhile, Celia returned from the mountains. Her face was round and transparent, and filled with wonder. Her simple nun’s habit made her look taller. She spoke softly and listened intently. Sometimes she asked a question.

“I’m bound in fetters, and I don’t have the strength to loosen them,” Blanca said to her.

“What do you mean, Blanca?”

“I’m living in a prison, and I stopped counting the days that I’ve been in captivity. Every day closes in on me more. I had a good friend in Blumenthal, but she went to the east. I would gladly have gone to the Carpathians, but I’m married and I have a child.”

Celia’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.

“I can tell you that ever since Grandma Carole died, I’ve felt a strong attraction for the Carpathians. Maybe the mountains will give my soul back to me. I feel that the soul within me has fled.”

“And you wouldn’t want to come with me to the mountains of Stillstein?”

“Churches don’t love me,” Blanca replied.

After parting from Celia, Blanca sat in the hospital corridor, and to her surprise she felt that a hint of strength still fluttered within her. She rose to her feet and approached Otto’s bed. His sleep was quiet now. That night he felt better, and the next day he opened his eyes.

ONLY NOW DID Blanca see how much the malady had changed Otto. He had grown taller. His face glowed, and the words in his mouth were clearer.

“The disease has passed,” Blanca told him, “and in a little while we’ll go home.”

“I want to be with you.”

“I’ll always be with you,” she said and kissed his forehead.

Otto knew more than she imagined. He knew, for example, that the job in Blumenthal had been exhausting and that Elsa had mistreated her, that Kirtzl wasn’t his aunt, that Grandma and Grandpa came every Sunday, drank cognac, and grumbled. He’d evidently taken in a lot during his few years. Blanca was astonished by the abundance of words he’d collected.

“I’m afraid of Kirtzl,” he told her.

“Why?”

“She walks around the house without any clothes on.”

“She’s apparently used to that.” Blanca tried to distract him.

Otto’s recovery breathed a new energy into Blanca. She was hungry and ate whatever was served, and at night she sat and talked with Christina. Her life, which had seemed as though poised on the edge of a steep slope, now seemed to have been given a reprieve. An old, youthful strength coursed through her legs. In her heart she knew that hard days were in store for her, but fear didn’t deter her. At night, lying on the mat next to Otto’s bed, she would wander off to faraway lands with him, sailing on boats and struggling through flowing currents.

Blanca didn’t imagine how close at hand the solution was.

Before she left the hospital, Dr. Nussbaum told her, “Otto has recovered, but he needs to be watched over. Don’t put him in the care of that peasant woman. If there’s any need for my intervention, notify me right away.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You have to be a brave woman.”

“I promise,” Blanca said, and she was glad that those words had emerged clearly from her mouth.

When Blanca returned home she found Kirtzl sitting in the armchair, dressed in a housecoat. Her full face had gotten even fuller. Your job is over, she wanted to say. You have to go back to your village, and I’ll stay with Otto. Otto is recovering, and I have to watch over his recovery .

Kirtzl seemed to guess her thoughts. She rose to her feet, and with a peasant’s cunning she said, “Welcome. Otto, why don’t you say hello to me?”

“Hello.”

“Is that all?”

Blanca didn’t know what to say and sat down. The confidence she had felt earlier evaporated. Once again iron walls surrounded her, stifling her into muteness. Dear God, she said to herself, I went to grade school and after that to the municipal high school. Why can’t I say a single sentence ?

“Are you going back to work?” Kirtzl asked after a silent pause.

“No. They fired me.”

“And what do you plan to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you looking for another job?”

“I’m not looking. I don’t have to look,” said Blanca, and her fingers trembled. Kirtzl apparently sensed her anger. She turned around, went into the bedroom to get dressed, and when she came back out she said, “I’m going home. The food for Adolf is ready in the pantry. I’ll come back next Monday.”

The heavy smell of butter stood in the air. Blanca remembered that when she was in elementary school, the country girls used to spread butter on their hair. She had suffered from the smell but never complained about it.

When Adolf came home, he said, “You have to find work right away.”

“I’ll go and look,” she replied, to avoid contradicting him.

“On Monday, first thing.”

I have to suffer a little more, she said to herself, without knowing what she was saying. Only at night, in her sleep, did the meaning become a bit clearer. In her dream she saw Grandma Carole brandishing a long knife like a sword and calling out loud, “Arise, sleeping fathers, from your slumber, arise and save me from the apostates. I declare war and await you. Only with you can I defeat that great camp. Come, together let us break through the locked doors of the synagogue, so that the God of Israel will be revealed in all His splendor.”

ON MONDAY BLANCA left the house. As she got ready to go, Otto wrapped himself around her legs, encircling her with his arms and not letting her move. Blanca promised him that this time she’d come back soon. At that, he let her go and said, “You promise, but you don’t keep your promises.”

“This time I’ll keep it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I swear.”

Blanca was so moved by Otto’s words that she made her way to My Corner at a quick pace. Upon entering My Corner, she stopped and looked around. This was her town, the streets where she had spent her childhood and youth. Now everything was wrapped in an alien mist. She felt like a prisoner who had received a short leave and didn’t know what to do with it.

In My Corner she was greeted with pleasure, and they rushed to serve her a cup of coffee and a piece of cake. She had planned to ask whether anyone knew of a goldsmith or a jewelry store where she could sell a jewel, but she checked herself.

While Blanca was busy with her thoughts, a short young man approached her. He stood next to her table, his head bent, and for a moment she didn’t recognize him. But as soon as she did, she cried out, “Ernst!”

Ernst Schimmer was her great competitor in elementary school and later in high school. He, too, excelled in mathematics and Latin, but he had some sort of inhibition that blocked him and overshadowed his obvious talent. All of his excellent grades always had an annoying “minus” attached to them. The mathematics and Latin teachers liked him and encouraged him, and there were days when he displayed wonders at the blackboard, but then that hidden flaw would appear and spoil the effect. Blanca didn’t like Ernst and ignored him. From an early age a bitterness showed itself on his lips, the sign of a person dissatisfied with himself. He suffered in class, especially from Adolf. Adolf used to call him a Jewish slug.

Blanca overcame her muteness. “How are you, Ernst?”

“I came to visit my hometown.”

“And where do you live now?”

“In Salzburg.”

Fortune had not smiled upon Ernst, either, it seemed. He had studied at the university for a year, but his parents couldn’t afford to support him, and he was forced to go out and work. He worked in a children’s clothing store in Heimland for a year, but then both of his parents died and he moved to Salzburg. There he was a cashier in a department store. Blanca looked at him and said, “You haven’t changed.”