Aharon Appelfeld - Until the Dawn's Light

At night Blanca would return to the pension, and Otto would stay and sleep with the children in The Home. Mrs. Tauber was childless, and the sorrow this caused her was apparent in everything she did. Years ago she had traveled to a well-known doctor in Vienna. He had treated her and promised wonders, but later it became known that his methods were fraudulent and that he had deceived hundreds of women. Since then she had not gone anywhere else to seek a cure. For twenty years she and her husband had run the pension. They had regular clients who came from Czernowitz.

“Our needs are not many,” she would say, “and our life is simple. For what we have, we say a blessing.”

It was evident that the faith of her fathers, which she had brought from her village, sustained her here, too, and there was an innocence in her speech. Nevertheless, Blanca refrained from revealing even a hint of her secret to her. She merely said, “I married very young, and my life wasn’t easy. Now I have to bring Otto to a safe haven.”

Thus November passed. In early December Blanca noticed that the WANTED posters that had hung on the walls of the railway station were now displayed on public buildings as well. For a few days she tried to ignore them, but they cried out from every wall.

I have to tell you something important, she was about to say to Rosa, but she checked herself. She was afraid and didn’t know what to do. It seemed to her that gendarmes were lying in wait for her in every corner.

December was gloomy and cold. After work she would return to the pension and ask, “Has anything come for me?”

“No, nothing, my dear,” Mrs. Tauber would reply.

She would go up to her room immediately, curl up in bed, and say to herself, Otto is so busy with his friends that if I disappear, he won’t notice my absence .

Blanca’s life seemed to have slowly disintegrated. First her conversion, then the hasty marriage, and, immediately afterward, her mother’s death. In those two ceremonies and in the funeral, parts of her soul were amputated. And after her father’s disappearance, her body was emptied of all its will. Just one desire remained within her now: for drink. She tried not to drink in Otto’s presence. She would drink only at night, when she was by herself.

“Don’t forget the notebooks that are in your backpack,” she would remind Otto whenever she was with him.

“What notebooks?”

“The notebooks that I wrote for you.”

“I won’t forget,” said Otto distractedly.

Blanca knew that her requests were pointless. Still, she confused and embarrassed him with them.

With every passing day, the threat to Blanca increased. One evening, when she was on her way from the market to the orphanage, she noticed that a WANTED poster also appeared on the church wall. The sight of the poster on the wall brought before her a vision of Adolf, kneeling in church. Even while kneeling he stood out; he was so much taller than the other worshippers. He didn’t pray much, but he did pray loudly. His mother, who always knelt at his side, would sometimes raise her head to gaze at him during the service. She adored him, and showed it even in church.

The next morning, by chance, Blanca heard a woman say to her friend, “Did you hear about the murderess who killed her husband with an ax? They say that she’s hiding among us and that a contingent of gendarmes is due to come here to make a search.”

“I didn’t hear that.”

“But you did hear about the murderess?”

“Of course.”

“It’s frightening to think that she’s among us.”

They kept on talking, but Blanca couldn’t catch their words. She fled and headed straight for the pension.

That night Blanca didn’t sleep. The fear that had secretly tormented her suddenly vanished. Her senses were alert, and she could see clearly — the residents of the old age home in Blumenthal, for example. She saw the row of beds in the dormitory, the private rooms of the wealthier residents, and the alcove where the aged Tsirl lived. She had started stealing there by chance, but she soon came to steal deftly, while pretending to be a lethargic woman. The residents hadn’t suspected her but picked on the cleaning women instead. All the time she worked there, she had remained on guard and hadn’t erred even with a single gesture. And when she bade good-bye to the residents, her voice hadn’t conveyed even a single hint of remorse. On the contrary, the pocket full of jewels filled her with hidden pleasure. This, too, is Blanca, she said to herself, and she’ll face judgment for that as well, when the day comes .

The next morning she told Mrs. Tauber, “I’ve just gotten news that my father is very ill, and I have to set out right away.”

“What can I say?” Mrs. Tauber said in a choked voice.

“I didn’t behave well toward my father. You should never send parents to an old age home. Old age homes stifle and humiliate people.”

Mrs. Tauber cut her short. “Go easy on yourself, Blanca.”

“I’m not the essence of purity,” Blanca replied.

“None of us has done his duty properly,” said Mrs. Tauber.

“I’m not talking about duties, but about ugly selfishness.”

Mrs. Tauber was stunned by Blanca’s words and refused to accept payment for the final week. But Blanca insisted and said, “I don’t want to be in your debt.” She also stuffed a banknote into the housekeeper’s apron. And so they parted.

When Blanca reached The Home, she went over to the children’s beds to see Otto, and for the moment she forgot her hasty departure from the pension. Then she busied herself with work, washing the children and polishing their shoes, preparing the main room for prayers. Rosa had introduced a lovely custom: she decorated the prayer room with flowers and potted plants, and before the prayers began she watered them.

After prayers, Blanca prepared breakfast with Rosa. Only when the meal was finished did she say, “My father is very ill, and I have to leave.”

“What’s the matter with him?”

“When I parted from my father, he was healthy and in good spirits. He’s a professional mathematician. But now I don’t know.”

“Where is he?”

“In Kimpolung.” Blanca wasn’t flustered by the question and was pleased that the name had immediately occurred to her.

“Go, Blanca. Otto can stay here. The children like him.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Let’s pray together that God will send a full recovery to your father and to all the sick people among the Jews.”

“What should I say to Otto?”

“Tell him the truth. It’s always best to tell the truth.”

After lunch Blanca knelt and said, “Otto.”

“What?” he asked, without looking up.

“I want to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I have to go away again.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll return soon. Don’t worry.”

She expected Otto to pick up his head and look at her, but Otto was too deeply immersed in his play. The words passed by without touching him. Later, too, when she was dressed for the trip, her bundle in her hand, even then he didn’t pay attention to her.

Blanca closed the door. Through the panes of glass she could still see Otto’s face in profile and a drop on the tip of his nose. She had a huge desire to go back and touch his face again and wipe his nose, but the hand that had closed the door no longer had the power to open it again.

FROM THEN ON Blanca traveled without much of a plan. If she chanced upon a wagon, she would pay the driver and hitch a ride. At first the broad fields made her despair, and more than once she was about to return to Struzhincz. I’d be better off dying near Otto and not in a strange land, she said to herself, knowing there was no logic to her words. After a while she overcame that delusion and would repeat to herself, You mustn’t go back. Otto has to get used to living without you .