Marguerite Duras - Abahn Sabana David

“The dogs.”

He struggles visibly against immense fatigue. His eyes questioning still.

“Yes,” says Abahn. “You gave up the Jew in order to have his dogs.”

“Yes.”

The softness of his voices is penetrating. Gratitude in his eyes.

“Listen,” says Abahn. “David spoke. David said, ‘I gave up the Jew in order to have his dogs.’”

“Yes,” says David.

He is talking to Abahn without looking at him. Abahn looks deep into his eyes.

Sabana slumps against the body of the Jew. She continues to gaze out at the darkened park. The Jew is looking at David.

“David said, ‘I repeated what the Jew said in the café,’” says Abahn. “‘Gringo asked me and I repeated it. Gringo said that I had to make the connection and that it wasn’t what the Jew said in the café, but a different thing. A simpler thing: that the Jew said one thing in the café but meant another.’”

Abahn pauses. David waits. He has a look of deep interest on his face. The pack roaming the field of death growl and bark out one after the other. The dogs in the park howl in response. Then, silence falls anew.

David calls out:

“Sabana!”

No one answers him.

“He said, ‘I did what Gringo wanted,’” continues Abahn. “‘I said the Jew offered me money if I would tell him what Gringo did with the other Jews. The Jew said to me: Freedom. Gringo said that what he meant was: money, money to leave Staadt if I gave up the names of the Jews who were executed.’”

David makes a great effort. He finds the words:

“No. The dogs.”

“He said, ‘I at once tried to say that the Jew proposed to give me the dogs if I gave up the names of the executed Jews, but Gringo said no: No, the Jew proposed to give you the dogs to sell for a high price. Don’t forget, the Jew said he would give you money. Money.’”

“No, the dogs.”

“Money,” repeats Abahn.

David does not answer.

At any moment it seems sleep might finally overcome David. Abahn continues speaking in a low voice as if they were still in danger.

“He continued, ‘Gringo asked Jeanne to make the connection. I didn’t know. Gringo said that the Jew had gotten money from powerful foreigners. Jeanne had talked about this with Gringo. I didn’t understand what Jeanne meant.’”

David’s eyes fall from Abahn, search the shadows.

“Sabana!” he cries out in his sleep.

Sabana does not answer. He calls out again:

“Sabana!”

He falls silent. Abahn continues calmly:

“And he said, ‘I didn’t know what Gringo meant.’”

“Where is she?” David asks in his sleep.

Abahn does not answer him. He continues:

“David recounted, ‘In the café the Jew said: I am hopeless, desperate.’”

“Sabana!” David cries out.

“He said, ‘I didn’t understand what the Jew meant,’” continues Abahn.

David does not cry out anymore. He has been conquered.

Slumber won, his head sags to the side.

“He said, ‘Gringo told me: Forget this desperate, dirty word, this Jewish word.’”

Abahn tries to reach David faster than sleep.

“He said, ‘I told all of this to Sabana.’”

“Sabana,” murmurs David. “Sabana.”

He struggles against sleep. His eyelids flutter.

“‘And Sabana told me: Don’t worry. David, you will have the dogs of the Jew. I will give them to you.’”

“Yes.”

Sabana still looks out at the darkened park.

David leans his head against the back of the chair. His eyes are half-closed, his gaze toward Abahn, sleepy.

“He said, ‘We speak of the Jews who will be executed. Gringo has forbidden it. We don’t know why Gringo has forbidden it.’”

Abahn is quiet. He walks away from David. Does David see him leave?

“Sabana,” David calls out again in his sleep.

David sees no more, his gaze floats away.

“Sabana!” His body turns toward her, he straightens up, his eyes becoming cloudy as if waking. He takes his gun, points it.

“Where is Sabana?”

He searches for her with his eyes.

His wakefulness is so brief, he looks too quickly to see her there, in the shadows, next to the Jew.

His hand releases the gun.

He falls in one quick movement back into the chair.

He sleeps.

•

Sabana leaves the Jew. She walks away from David to the table where the Jew sat.

The Jew stands where she left him, looking out toward the park.

Abahn walks once more between the rooms.

Sabana looks around. Abahn is out of sight, the Jew on the other side of the room. David sleeps. She is quiet for a long time. Then she speaks:

“He won’t remember anything.”

Her voice has changed, is low and brittle.

“He’ll remember a little,” says Abahn.

Sabana does not move. She too seems as if asleep. She moves no more than does David.

The Jew has turned. Abahn comes back. They look at her. She raises her eyes to them. Eyes like dark wounds.

“Give us the dogs,” she says.

•

“Give your dogs to David,” says Sabana. “Your dirty dogs, your Jew dogs.”

The Jew comes toward Sabana. She watches him approach. She says to him:

“I’ll wake him. I’ll tell him you tried to run away. We’ll take off with the dogs.”

The Jew sits at Sabana’s feet. He leans his head against her knees. He wraps his arms tightly around them.

“Your millions of dogs, you should give them to him. Write it down: I leave my dogs to David.”

The Jew doesn’t answer. His arms are locked around Sabana’s body.

“You understand. Your dogs, your dirty dogs, your Jewish dogs, you should give them to him.”

She does not try to wrench free from the grip of the Jew. She speaks without looking at him.

“The dogs are already David’s. He gave them the Jew, so the dogs belong to him now.”

Her voice is low and sleepy. She has the same blank stare as does David.

Abahn returns from the other room. She sees him. She speaks to him:

“I want the dogs of the Jew for David to go into the forest.”

Abahn pauses in front of her and the Jew. He regards them both without responding.

“You brought these dogs with you and now they want to kill you. They want to get these dogs out of Staadt.”

She pulls free from the Jew’s embrace. She rises.

“You should give them to David before you die. If you give them to David they will live. You understand?”

She regards David.

“David will keep them safe from Gringo. He’ll take them into the forest. They’ll live.”

She falls silent. Then starts speaking again:

“A kennel in the forest — he’ll sell puppies, neither seen nor found out by anyone, secret dogs — he’ll leave the mason work behind, goodbye to Gringo.”

The Jew raises his head, he looks at her. He is listening with great attention. She begins to smile. There is a little spit on the corner of his lips. She addresses him:

“Maybe you don’t understand? The dogs should be David’s.”

She waits. The Jew is still looking at her. He says:

“The dogs are David’s. I’m giving them to him.”

Sabana recoils. They look at one another.

“You will tell Gringo,” says Abahn. “Write, ‘The Jew has left his dogs to David.’”

The Jew rises, goes to the table and takes a blank sheet of paper, writes.

He finishes writing. He says:

“They will be happy.”

She does not answer. Unmoving, she listens to them. She is regarding them.

“You have to explain to Gringo,” says Abahn. “Tell him that David wanted the dogs of the Jew.”

Slowly she turns back to the darkened park, stands there, gazing out. She says:

“Gringo won’t listen. He won’t read.”