The Family Moskat (49 page)

What would happen if he were to open the window and fling himself out? What would happen then to his love, his fear, his bewilderment? No, there was always time to die. He shivered, and turned to Hadassah's bed.

2

On the day of the Rejoicing of the Law Asa Heshel was to meet Hadassah before the Bank Square, near the pillars. But a half hour passed and Hadassah did not appear. Asa Heshel telephoned Fishel's home; there was no answer. He waited an hour and ten minutes. Hadassah did not show up. The seamstresses had gone away that day. They would not be coming home before two or three in the morning. He had his opportunity to spend the last day of the festival with Hadassah. But now everything was spoiled. Asa Heshel returned alone. He went into the dark room, lit the gas lamp, and sat down. He pulled a valise out from under the bed. Among a pile of shirts, socks, and handkerchiefs lay a manuscript handwritten in German. The title was
"The Laboratory of Happiness."
Asa Heshel took out the sheets of paper and began to leaf through them. Most of the chapters were unfinished. On a scrap of paper was written a group of theses: (1) time as an attribute of God; (2) the Godhead as the sum total of all possible combinations; (3) the truth of falsehood; (4) causality and play; (5) paganism and pleasure: (6) transmigration of the soul in the light of Spinozaism. Underneath was a note: "
If I don't make an end of X, I might as well die
!"

While he sat thus, fingering the manuscript, the doorbell rang. He ran to answer it. It must be Hadassah! The corridor was dark. He opened the door and was aware of the scent of caraway perfume.

He recognized Adele"s figure. "Adele!"

"Yes, it's I. What kind of pigsty is this?"

"How did you come here?" he asked, and at once regretted the question.

-316-Adele

caught at his words. "I hope you're not going to throw me out."

"God forbid. Come in."

He led her into his room. In the lamplight her face was yellow and splotchy. She was wearing some kind of old-fashioned hat like an inverted flowerpot. She sat down at once on the chair.

"So this is where you live! A palace! Aren't you eating, or what?"

"I'm eating."

"Mother has a saying for that: The way a corpse eats is the way he looks.'"

Asa Heshel was silent.

"I suppose you're surprised by my visit. I had to speak with you. You see my condition."

"I am going into the army. You know that."

"Yes, I know that. If a man wants to commit suicide there's no way of stopping him. I want to speak openly with you."

"Well, speak."

"If you go away, I'm left absolutely at sea. You know the Jewish law better than I do."

"Do you want a divorce?"

"I don't know any more what I want. You've finished my life for me. Even if I go on living."

"It's too late for that kind of talk."

"It isn't too late at all. You're not seventy years old yet. What are you doing with your life? You're killing your mother--all for the sake of that idiot."

"Better tell me plainly what you want."

"What's the hurry? Are you expecting her?"

"Perhaps I am."

"Let her come. I'll spit in her face. Meanwhile I'm your wife and she's a whore. I'm your wife and you're my husband. I'm carrying your child under my heart."

"Adele, what's the use of all this talk? We have to make an end to this business. It's your fault if you're--"

He broke off.

"We don't have to do anything. If I want to, I'll drag you along for the rest of my life. Marriage isn't a plaything to me. I'll make it miserable for both of you."

You speak like your mother."

-317-"I'm

speaking the truth. It's this woman who brought you all this misery. It's because of her that we came back to Poland on the eve of the war. You'd have been studying, you'd have accomplished something. What's going to become of you now?

Whatever happens, you're going to lose your best years. Don't think she'll wait for you. You'll rot in the trenches and she won't give a damn. Just try coming back to her without a leg!"

"Tell me simply what you want."

"You don't deserve it, but I want to help you. And I won't fool you about it; I hope to get something out of it, too. You mustn't throw yourself into this insane war. We can save you. My stepfather, Mother. We've been able to get our money out of the bank. There's even a way of returning to Switzerland. You've only got to do one thing: put an end to this madness."

"Adele, I love her."

"Is that your last word?

"It's the truth."

"You've talked yourself into it. You aren't capable of any kind of love."

Adele sat awhile with bowed head. Her lips were twisted. Her nose had become long and pointed. There was something mannish and rationalistic about her forehead, her lifted eyebrows. Asa Heshel had a strange feeling; it was as though, behind the feminine façade, the spirit of her father, the scholar, had broken through. Strange, but while she was near him he felt no repulsion.

No, he did not hate her. What he was afraid of was the burden of becoming a provider; the shame of being a married man, surrounded by relatives, while he had achieved nothing. It occurred to him that could he live with her in secrecy as he lived with Hadassah, he would not have minded having both of them.

He would have liked to explain it to Adele, but he knew beforehand that she would not grasp it. It was not even clear to him.

Adele rose suddenly. "What kind of room is this? Where does this window lead?"

She stood at the window facing the blind wall. From this point one could see the neighboring courtyard and the straw on the roofs of several festival booths. She leaned out so far that Asa Heshel became frightened.

"Adele, be careful!"

She drew her head in, straightened up, and turned toward him.

-

318-"Its' you who are committing suicide, not I."

"Yes, thats' true." "Poor fellow!"

She looked at him and smiled. He was still attached to her! He did not want her to fall out. Who knew? Perhaps he already had a feeling for the creature she was carrying in her. It was his child.

Adele suddenly realized that she would not listen either to her stepfather or to her mother. She would not divorce him. Never! Legally he would forever remain her husband, she his wife.

"Come here," she said. "You may still give me a kiss." And then she did something utterly unexpected. She stretched out her hand and extinguished the lamp. She remained standing, frightened by her own foolishness.

AFTER Leah left Koppel's office on that intermediate day of the Feast of Tabernacles, Koppel paced back and forth. His kid boots squeaked. His cigarette had gone out, although it still dangled from his lower lip. He went into the rear room, where there was a small gas heater and a pot of tea brewing. There was a mirror on the wall above the table. Koppel stared at his own reflection.

"So the well-born wench hasn't managed to get out of my clutches," Koppel thought. "Ah, if the old man knew about it, he'd turn over in his grave." He grinned at his own reflection.

"You're a smart bastard, Koppel."

He went back into the larger room, opened a window, and peered out into the courtyard. A small gentile girl sat on a pile of broken stones. A barefooted woman was emptying a slop pail. Koppel started to scrawl idly with the tip of his fingernail on the -319-"Its'

you who are committing suicide, not I." "Yes, thats'

true." "Poor fellow!"

She looked at him and smiled. He was still attached to her! He did not want her to fall out. Who knew? Perhaps he already had a feeling for the creature she was carrying in her. It was his child.

Adele suddenly realized that she would not listen either to her stepfather or to her mother. She would not divorce him. Never!

Legally he would forever remain her husband, she his wife.

"Come here," she said. "You may still give me a kiss."

And then she did something utterly unexpected. She stretched out her hand and extinguished the lamp. She remained standing, frightened by her own foolishness.

AFTER Leah left Koppel's office on that intermediate day of the Feast of Tabernacles, Koppel paced back and forth. His kid boots squeaked. His cigarette had gone out, although it still dangled from his lower lip. He went into the rear room, where there was a small gas heater and a pot of tea brewing. There was a mirror on the wall above the table. Koppel stared at his own reflection.

"So the well-born wench hasn't managed to get out of my clutches," Koppel thought. "Ah, if the old man knew about it, he'd turn over in his grave." He grinned at his own reflection.

"You're a smart bastard, Koppel."

He went back into the larger room, opened a window, and peered out into the courtyard. A small gentile girl sat on a pile of broken stones. A barefooted woman was emptying a slop pail. Koppel started to scrawl idly with the tip of his fingernail on the -319-mist of the

window pane. What would happen to the houses Reb Meshulam had left if he and Leah were to run off to America? Everything would fall to dust.

He put on his overcoat and went out into the street. There was a time when it had seemed to Koppel that if Leah would as much as kiss him he would go out of his mind with ecstasy. But that was the trouble with the desirable things of life; they had the quality of coming too late. It was easy enough to say: "Divorce Bashele!

Go off to Americal" But how could a man do a thing like that?

She was a loyal wife, the mother of his children. If he should announce to her that he was going to divorce her she would take it as a joke. And what would people say generally? The whole town would be in an uproar.

He had never put in an appearance in his own house as early as he did this day. He felt a longing to be at his own home, in his own room. There, on the old sofa, stretched out, he was accustomed to think out his plans. He signaled a droshky, climbed in, and leaned his head against the back of the seat. He stretched out his legs and closed his eyes. He could tell what neighborhood he was passing through by the sounds and the smells. Along Zhabia Street the odor of faded leaves told him he was passing the Saxon Gardens. On Senator Street a tinge of the odors of the Vistula and the Praga forests was already in the air.

Even the echoes of the cannon firing in the distance could not deaden the familiar sounds. Newsboys were calling extras: the Russian troops were holding off the German offensive. Koppel opened his eyes, called to a newsboy, and threw him a one-kopek piece. He looked at the paper as the droshky rolled along.

"The bear isn't finished yet," he murmured to himself.

At the bridge the droshky came to a stop. A train of ambulance wagons, something like omnibuses, was entering the bridge.

Through the windows could be seen soldiers with bandaged heads and limbs. Nurses bent over the wounded men. In one of the ambulances lay a figure completely swathed in surgical dressings.

Only the tip of the nose was visible. A couple of white-coated attendants were busying themselves with some sort of apparatus and rubber tubing. A pang of anguish shot through the pit of Koppel's stomach.

"Ai, mother," he murmured.

At home he found only Shosha, his oldest daughter, a girl of sixteen; she was eleven months younger than Manyek. She was -320-taller than her

father, but her face was childish. Two long blond braids plaited with ribbons descended to her waist. She was far from being a good student at school; she was attending the fourth class for the second year. Before Koppel could say a word she threw her arms around him and leaned her breast against his. "Tatush!"

Koppel managed to release himself. "Where is your mother?" he asked.

"She went to the grocer's."

"Where are Yppe and Teibele?"

"Teibele's sleeping. Yppe's at the carpenter's."

"Well, what's the news at school?"

Shosha's eyes brightened. "Oh, Tatush, what excitement we had!

Our history teacher fell down. And did we howl! I've still got a pain from laughing." And the girl broke out in a childish gig-gle that showed her mouthful of uneven teeth.

Koppel shrugged his shoulders. "What's there to laugh about if somebody stumbles?" he asked. "That's a thing that can happen to anybody."

"Oh, but Tatush! It was so funny. She took a flop right down between the benches. I must kiss you!"

The girl clutched him again and showered a flood of kisses all over his face. Koppel barely managed to release himself. Just like her mother, he thought. Foolish and good-hearted. It had occurred to Koppel more than once that if a calf like this should happen to fall in love with some boy, before you knew it she'd come home with a lump behind her apron.

He went into his own room, chained the door, and stretched out on the sofa. The longer he smoked and pondered, the more astonished he was at himself. What sort of mad idea was that? To break up a household and run off to America? Who'd be around to keep an eye on Shosha? Who'd be there to see to it that Yppe found a decent husband? Especially since the poor girl limped. And what would happen to Teibele and Manyek? It wasn't as though Leah were a young girl. She was forty-four, and maybe older. If she loved him, as she said she did, then why shouldn't she be content to be his mistress right here in Warsaw?

When Koppel remembered that he had told Leah about the way he had looted her father's safe, he felt a sour bile rising to his mouth.

"I must have been crazy," he thought. "I've stuck a knife into my own guts."

-321-He turned to the

wall and dozed off. His wife woke him at about seven, when supper was already on the table. Koppel got up and wearily dragged himself into the dining-room. Everything seemed strange to him, the glazed lamp that hung from the ceiling, the set table, the children around it. Yppe and Shosha were talking animatedly to each other, breaking out into noisy giggling. Manyek sat quietly in his short school jacket with the gold buttons. His close-cropped head threw a gigantic shadow on the wall.