Chapter 4 third chapter

one Hermann stayed with Jadwija ​​for two days.Martha had a week's vacation and he was going to go out with her, so he took pains to tell Jadwija ​​in advance that he would have to go far, to Chicago.As compensation for her, Hermann took her out for a whole day first.Immediately after breakfast, they walked to the boardwalk, where Herman bought two tickets for the carousel.Hermann put Jadwiga on a lion, and she almost screamed; he himself sat on a tiger.She grabs the lion's mane in one hand and holds an ice cream cone in the other.Then they went to ride the Ferris wheel, and the car they were in was rocking back and forth violently.Jadwiga collapsed on top of Hermann, laughing, terrified and delighted.For lunch they had pies, beef sausages and coffee.After dinner, the two of them walked slowly to Sheepshead Bay, where they took a boat to Breeze Point.Jadwija ​​worried that she might get seasick, but the water was calm, the green and gold waves barely moving.The breeze ruffled Jadwija's hair, which she tied back with a handkerchief.Music was playing at the moorings, and Jadwija ​​sipped lemonade.After dinner of fish in the evening, Hermann took her to see a musical.The film is full of music, dancing, beautiful women and gorgeous palaces.He translated for her, so she knew what the movie was about.Jadwija ​​cuddled close to him, took his hand, and occasionally put his hand to her lips.How happy I am, how lucky, she whispered, God Himself gave you to me!

That morning, Jadwiga awoke after a few hours of sleep, full of desire.She begged him, as she had begged so many times before, to let her have a child, to convert her to Judaism, and he granted her everything. In the morning, Martha called Herman to say that her vacation would be postponed for a few days because the teller who was replacing her was ill.Hermann told Jadwija ​​that his trip to Chicago, which he hoped would sell a lot of books, would be postponed for a few days, and that he would go to nearby Triton first. 】Go for a trip.He stopped at the rabbi's office on Twenty-third Street, then took the subway to Martha's.He should have been satisfied, but he was tormented by a premonition of impending doom.What kind of disaster would that be? Would he be sick?Was any misfortune about to befall Martha or Jadwija?I hope all is well.Was he arrested or deported from the US for not paying his taxes?Yes, he may not make much money, but he should still fill out forms; he may owe some money to the federal government or the state.Hermann knew that several of Zivkev's fellow countrymen knew that he was in America, and they tried to get in touch with him, but he had to keep a distance from them.For him, every human contact is a potential danger.He also knew that he had several distant relatives in America, but he neither asked nor wanted to know where they lived.

Hermann stayed with Martha that night.They quarreled, made up, and quarreled again.As usual, their talk was full of promises they both knew could never be kept, fantasies of unfulfilled pleasures, and questions that would excite them both.Martha was uncertain whether, if she had a sister, she would allow Hermann to sleep with her sister.If Hermann had a brother, would she have liked to have lived with Hermann and his brother?What would she have done had her father been alive and had an incestuous passion for her?If she decides to go back to Lyon.Totschina, or marrying a rich man for money, would Herman still think she was the right one?If her mother died, would she move in with Hermann and Jadwija?If he's impotent, will she leave him?They often end up talking about death.They both thought they would die young.Martha repeatedly urged Hermann to buy a cemetery for the two of them so they could be buried together.In the heat of passion, Martha assured Hermann that she would visit him in his grave and that they would make love.How could it be otherwise?

Martha had to leave home early in the morning to go to work, Hermann was still in bed.His work for Lampert Rabbie was delayed again as usual, and he had to finish the manuscript he had promised.He gave the rabbi a false address where the rabbi would set up a phone, but the rabbi seemed to have forgotten about it.God forbid, he was so preoccupied with his business that he forgot about it.The rabbi wrote things down, but he never checked his notebook.No philosopher or thinker in the past could have foreseen such a rush of a new era.Work in a hurry, eat in a hurry, talk in a hurry, even die in a hurry.Perhaps haste is an attribute of God.Measured by the flow rate of electromagnetism and the force of the galaxies moving outward from the center of the universe, one can conclude that God is short-tempered.He prodded His envoy, the Angel Metatron; Metatron pushed Sandelphine, Seraph, Cherub, Overnim, Erelin, molecules, atoms, and electrons to frantic speed.Time itself feels time-pressed in order to fulfill the tasks that time volunteers to undertake in the infinite three-dimensional space.

Hermann fell asleep again.He also dreams in a hurry, turning from one dream to another quickly. These dreams cancel the law of identity. a. ], also denying the category of reason.He dreamed that while he was sleeping with Martha, her upper body left her lower body, and stood in front of a mirror and scolded him, pointing out that he was only sleeping with half a woman.Herman opened his eyes.Ten fifteen.Shifra.Pue was in another room saying his morning prayers very slowly, syllable by syllable.He got dressed and went into the kitchen, Shifra.Pue prepared breakfast for him as usual.On the table was a Yiddish newspaper.

Herman drank his coffee and flipped through the newspaper.Suddenly he saw his name.His name appears in the private column: Hermann Kevkov of ZifkiefMr. Broad, please speak with Lib.Abraham.Neeson.Contact Yaroslav.It also had an address and phone number on East Broadway.Hermann sat, stunned.He just saw it by chance.He is usually content to glance at the headlines on the front page.He knows Rib.Abraham.Neeson.Yaroslav was the uncle of his late wife Tamara, a scholar, an Alexander Hasidic [note: one of the major sects of modern Judaism. 】 Christians.Hermann had visited him when he first arrived in America and had promised to return later.Even though his niece is dead, he is still willing to help Hermann, but Hermann avoids him because he doesn't want him to know that he is married to a pagan woman.But Rib.Abraham.Neeson.Yaroslav is looking for him in the papers!

How is this going?Hermann asked himself.He was very afraid of Lib.Abraham.Neeson.Yaroslav, because he had contacts with Zivkev's countrymen.I pretended not to see the message, and he made up his mind.But he sat for a long time, staring at the notification.The phone rang, and Shifra went to answer it.She said: Hermann, your call is from Martha. Martha told him on the phone that she had to work an extra hour and meet him at four.While they were talking on the phone, Shifra.Pue picked up the newspaper.Seeing Hermann's name, she turned to him in amazement, and tapped the newspaper with her finger.As soon as Hermann hung up the phone, Shifra.Pue said, "Someone is looking for you in the newspaper."look here.

Yes, I've seen it. Make a call and they log out the phone number.who is he? who knows?Maybe someone from home. Give them a call.Since they are looking for you in the newspaper, there must be something urgent. Not for me. Shifra.Puer raised his eyebrows.Hermann was still sitting at the table.After a while, he tore off the notice.He gave Shifra.Pue looked at the back and there was nothing but an advertisement; he didn't tear up the article she might want to read.Then he said: They want to draw me into the fellowship, but I have neither the time nor the patience. Maybe someone from your family is coming.

There is no one in my house. It's not a trivial matter to find someone right now. Hermann had originally decided to go back to his own room early to work for a few hours.But he didn't do that, but to Shifra.Pue said good-bye and went out.He walked slowly up Tremont Avenue.He thought he should go to the park and sit on a bench to polish the manuscript; but his legs took him to a public telephone booth.Dejected, he realized that the premonition that had tormented him for the past few days must have something to do with this notice.There's telepathy, clairvoyance, you name it. He turned the corner onto Tremont Avenue and went into a pharmacy.He dialed the phone number in the newspaper.I'm asking for trouble, he thought.He heard the phone ring, but no one answered.

Well, this is the best, he decided, I won't fight again. At this moment, Li Bu.Abraham.Neeson's voice asked: Who?Hello!The voice sounded old and gruff and familiar, though Herman had only spoken to him once, and it wasn't on the phone. Hermann cleared his throat.I'm Herman, he said, Herman.Broad. Rib.Abraham.Neeson stopped talking, and seemed to be stunned by too much surprise.After a while he seemed to calm down; his voice was higher and clearer.Hermann?Did you see the notice in the newspaper?I have news for you, but don't be afraid.Not hope it's not bad news.On the contrary, take it easy.

What's the news? I have Tamar.Message from Richelle Tamara.She is still alive. Hermann didn't answer.Clearly somewhere inside he had considered the possibility of this happening, because he wasn't as shocked as he might have been.What about the kids?he asks. The children are all dead. Hermann did not speak for a long time.His own past was too queer and tortuous for nothing to surprise him any longer.He heard himself say: How is it possible?Somebody what's his name?I can't remember seeing her get shot. Yes, it's true, she was shot, but she didn't die, she ran away to a friendly heathen's house.Later she went to Russia. where is she now Here I am. The two were silent for a long time.Then Herman asked: When did she come? Came here on Friday.She just knocked on the door and walked in.We've been looking for you, all over New York.Wait for a while, I will call her to answer the phone. Stop calling, I'm coming. What?Um I'll be right here, repeated Hermann.He tried to hang up the phone receiver, but it slipped from his hand and dangled dangling from the wire.He imagined he heard Lib.Abraham.Neeson's voice was still coming through the receiver.He opened the door of the public phone booth.He stared at the opposite counter, where a woman was sitting on a high stool in front of the counter, sipping a drink through a straw, and a man brought her some cookies.She was flirting with this man, with a pleading smile on her flushed, wrinkled face, the condescension of someone who can't ask but begs.Herman put down the phone receiver, left the phone booth, and walked towards the door. Martha had often accused him of being a mechanical man, and at this moment he agreed with her.He suppressed his emotions and calculated calmly.At four o'clock he had to meet Martha.He had promised Jadwija ​​to come home tonight.He still had to finish the rabbi's manuscript.Because he was standing at the door of the pharmacy, customers bumped into him when they came in and out.He was reminded of Spinoza's definition of hesitation: when the mind ceases to move, because the imagination of this particular event is not connected with other events Herman started to walk, but he couldn't remember in which direction the cafeteria was, and he stopped in front of a mailbox. Tamara, live!He said the words aloud.This hysterical woman had been tormenting him in the past, and when the war broke out, he was planning to divorce her, and she came back to life.He wanted to laugh.His metaphysical guy played a fucking joke on him. Herman knew every minute was precious, but he couldn't move a step.He leaned against the mailbox.A woman dropped a letter into the mailbox and eyed him suspiciously.escape?Where are you going?With whom?Martha couldn't do without her mother.He has no money.He had changed a ten-dollar bill yesterday, and before the rabbi gave him a check, he had only four dollars and some change on him.What did he say to Martha?Surely her mother would have told her of that announcement. He concentrated on looking at his watch. On the watch, the short hand pointed to eleven and the long hand pointed to three, but he had no idea what time the long and short hands were pointing to.He stared intently at the surface, as if telling the time required an exercise of intellect. How nice it would be if I were in that pretty suit!For the first time, Herman experienced the luxury that refugees often have: to show that he had achieved some degree of success in America.At the same time, something inside him laughed at this banal desire. two Hermann walked to the elevated railway and climbed up the ladder.Tamara's presence had no effect on anything other than a shock to him.Passengers were still reading newspapers and chewing gum as usual, and the train fans were making the same rumble.Hermann picked up a discarded newspaper from the floor and wanted to read it.This is a newspaper that publishes news about horse racing.He turned over, saw a joke, and smiled.Together with the subjectivity of phenomena, there is a mysterious objectivity. Hermann pulled the brim of his hat down so that the light wouldn't fall directly on his eyelids.Bigamy?Yes, bigamy.In a sense, he could be charged with polygamy.In the years when he thought Tamara was dead, he had tried to recall her good points.She loved him.Fundamentally, she is a supernatural being.He often speaks to her spirit, begging her forgiveness.At the same time, he also understood that her death relieved his pain.Even the years in the Lipske hayloft sometimes seemed like a respite from the troubles Tamara had given him during the years he had lived with him. Hermann could no longer remember why he had fought so hard with her, why he had left her, why he hadn't cared about their children.The conflict between husband and wife has become an endless argument in which neither side can ever convince the other.Tamara talks endlessly about the salvation of humanity, the plight of the Jewish people, and the place of women in society.She praised books that Hermann considered vulgar, loved plays that Hermann detested, sang popular songs with gusto, and attended lectures by all partisan demagogues.When she was a Communist, she was like the Cheka ] in a leather jacket like that; when she became a Zionist, she wore a Star of David scarf around her neck.She is constantly celebrating, protesting, signing petitions, and raising funds for various partisan causes.In the late 1930s, when the Nazi leaders visited Poland one by one, and nationalist students beat up Jews and forced Jewish students at universities to stand and attend lectures, Tamara, like many others, turned to religion.She started lighting candles and cooking kosher meals on Friday nights.To Hermann, she seemed to embody the crowd, always following a leader, fascinated by slogans, in fact she never had an opinion of her own. When Herman got annoyed, he ignored Tamara's unwavering devotion to him and the children, and the fact that she had always helped him and others.Even when he left the family and moved into a furnished rental room, she always came to help him clean the house and bring him food.When he was sick, she took care of him, ironed his clothes, and washed his shirts.She also helped him transcribe his papers, which, in her view, were anti-humanitarian, anti-gender and depressing. Has she become calmer?Hermann asked himself.Let me think, how old is she this year?He couldn't tell her exact age, but she was older than him.Hermann tried to put things in order, he pieced together things that must have happened.The children were taken from her.She was shot; took refuge with the bullet in a heathen's house.After her wounds healed, she fled secretly to Russia.This must have happened before 1941.Well, where has she been all these years?How come I haven't heard from her since 1945?In fact, Hermann hadn't looked for her.He never read the lists of lost relatives in the Yiddish newspapers.Has anyone encountered such an embarrassing situation?Hermann asked himself.No.It will take tens of thousands of trillions of years for his various things to come together to repeat itself once.Hermann wanted to laugh again.Some god in the sky is experimenting on him, just like those German doctors experimenting on the Jews. The train stopped, and Herman jumped up Fourteenth Street!He went up the stairs, out onto the street, turned east to the bus stop, and waited for the eastbound bus.It was cool in the morning, but now it's getting hotter.Hermann's shirt was stuck to his back.Something in his clothes made him uncomfortable, but he couldn't tell what it was.Is it the collar, or the elastic on the drawers?Maybe leather shoes?He walked past a mirror and saw his own reflection: thin, haggard, slightly stooped, wearing a battered hat and wrinkled trousers.His tie is crooked.He had just shaved a few hours ago, but now there was a black layer.I can't go there like this!he said to himself in panic.He slows down.He looked into the shop window.Maybe he can buy a cheap shirt.Maybe there's a place nearby where I can iron my coat.At least he could shine his shoes.He stopped in front of a shoe-shine booth, and a black kid rubbed some shoe polish with his fingers, tickling Herman's toes through the shoes.The warm air was revolting with the smell of dust, gasoline, tar and sweat.How long can the human lungs endure this kind of air?he wondered.How long can such a civilization that is harmful to life last?They will all suffocate, go mad first, then suffocate. The nigger said a few words about Hermann's shoes, but Hermann couldn't understand his English.He only hears the first syllable of each word.The boy was half naked and his square head was covered with sweat. How's business?Hermann asked, wanting to speak to him, and the kid replied: Very nice. three Herman sat on the bus going from Union Square to East Broadway, looking out the window.The neighborhood has changed since he arrived in America.Many Puerto Ricans now live there.Entire blocks of buildings have been demolished.From time to time, however, one can spot a sign written in Yiddish, a synagogue, a Talmud college and a nursing home.There was a building in the area that housed the general meeting of the Zivkiev Association, and Hermann was eager to avoid it.The bus passed kosher restaurants, a Yiddish movie theater, a worship bath, a rented hall for weddings and bar mitzvahs, and a Jewish funeral home.Young men with long sideburns, longer than he had seen in Warsaw, and wide-brimmed velvet hats on their heads.In this area and across the Williamsburg bridge lived Hungarian Hasidism, followers of the Sonkez, Pilz, and Popov rabbis, with ancient feuds.Some extreme Hasidic believers even refuse to recognize Israel's national borders. Hermann got out of the car on East Broadway, and from the basement window he caught a glimpse of a group of bearded men studying the Talmud.The eyes under the thick eyebrows shone with the keen look of a scholar.The wrinkles on their high foreheads reminded Hermann of the horizontal lines on parchment, drawn with a ruler for the convenience of scribes.The faces of these old men reflected a sadness as old as the books they read, and indelible.For a moment Hermann playfully thought of an idea: to join them.How long before he will be an old man with a white beard? Hermann remembered what a fellow Jew had told him about Reb.Abraham.Neeson.Yaroslav's arrival in the United States a few weeks before Hitler invaded Poland.He opened a small publishing house in Lublin, publishing rare religious books.He once went to Oxford to copy an ancient manuscript found there.In 1939 he came to New York to find a financier for printing the manuscript, but he was unable to return to Lublin due to the Nazi invasion.He lost his wife, but in New York he married a rabbi's widow.He had given up on publishing the Oxford manuscript and started compiling an anthology of the writings of the rabbis who died at the hands of the Nazis.His current wife Sheva.Hades helps him.The pair volunteered to mourn one day a week, Monday, in memory of those martyred in Europe.On this day, they fasted, did not wear shoes, sat on low stools with only socks on, and observed the various rules of the mourning period. Herman approached the building on East Broadway and glanced up at Reb.Abraham.A window on the first floor of Neeson's residence.The lower half of the window was hung with curtains.Just like those windows back home.He walked up a short flight of steps and rang the doorbell.At first no one answered the door.He thought he heard whispers behind the door, as if the people in the room were debating whether to let him in or not.The door slowly opened to reveal an old woman, apparently Sheva.Hades, stand at the door.She was short and thin, with a wrinkled face and a sunken mouth.A pair of glasses perched on a hooked nose.In her high-necked dress and bonnet, she looked exactly like a pious Polish woman.There was nothing American about her appearance, no rush or excitement in her demeanor, and it seemed that husband and wife reunions like this were an everyday occurrence. Hermann greeted her, and she nodded.They walked down a long corridor in silence.Rib.Abraham.Standing in the living room was Neeson, a squat, stooped, pale man with a large sallow beard and unkempt temple hair.He had a high forehead and a flat skullcap on his head.Brown eyes with a look of confidence and sadness under sallow eyebrows.From an unbuttoned robe, the loose fringed garment he wore underneath could be seen.Even the smells in the room belonged to the past: fried onions, garlic, chrysanthemums, wax.Rib.Abraham.Neeson stared at Herman, his gaze seemed to say: Words are superfluous.He glanced at the door leading to another room. Tell her to come in, he said to his wife.The old woman left the room calmly. Rib.Abraham.Neeson said: What a miracle! It seems like a long time.Once again Herman imagined he heard whispered arguments.The door is open, Sheva.Hades led Tamara into the house as a bride is led under a wedding canopy. Hermann saw everything at once.Tamara was a little older, but looked surprisingly young.She was dressed in American clothes and must have been to a beauty salon.Her hair was jet-black with an unnatural sheen that had just been dyed, her cheeks were rouged, her eyebrows were all plucked, and her nails were red.She reminded Hermann of a loaf of stale bread rebaked in a hot oven.Her hazel eyes seemed to squint at him.Before that, Hermann would have sworn that he remembered exactly what Tamara had looked like.But now he noticed one thing he had forgotten: there was always a line around her mouth, which always gave her face an air of trouble, suspicion, and mockery.He stared at her intently.Same nose, same cheekbones, same mouth shape, same chin, lips and ears.He heard himself say: I hope you still know me. Yes, I know you, she replied.It was Tamara's voice, though the slight shift might have been due to the discreet tone of voice. Rib.Abraham.Neeson gestured to his wife, and they both left the room.Hermann and Tamara were silent for a long time. Why is she wearing pink?thought Hermann.His embarrassment was gone, and there was an exasperated feeling that this woman, having seen their child taken away and killed, allowed herself to be dressed in such a pattern.Now he's glad he didn't have a nice change of clothes.He was the old Hermann again, the man who had been at odds with his wife, the husband who had left his wife.I never knew you were alive, he said.He was ashamed of his words. That's something you never know, Tamara replied shrillly, as ever. Well, sit down, sit here on the couch. Tamara sat down.She wears nylon stockings.She pulled down her skirt, which reached just above her knees.Hermann stood silently across the room.Herman suddenly remembered that this is how the souls of the people who have just died meet. They don't understand the language of the dead, but they still speak the language of the living.How did you get here by boat?he asked. No, I came by plane. from Germany? No, from Stockholm. Where have you been all these years?In Russia? Tamara seemed to be considering his question, then said: Yes, in Russia. I just found out this morning that you are still alive.A witness came to me and told me he saw you killed. who is he?No one came out alive.Unless he's a Nazi. He is a Jew. impossible.They shot me twice.I still have a bullet in my body to this day, Tamara said, pointing to her left buttock. Can it be taken out? Maybe here in America. You seem to have escaped death. Yes. Where did this happen?In Narentsev? It happened in a field on the outskirts of the city.I managed to escape at night, although my wound was bleeding.If it hadn't been for the rain, the Nazis would have found me. Who is that heretic? Paul.Tsejonski.My father did business with him.I went to him and thought, what could happen now?The worst thing is that he goes and denounces me. He saved your life? I lived with him for four months.They can't trust any doctor.He is my doctor.Him and his wife. Have you heard from them since then? They are dead. Neither of them spoke.Then Tamara asked: How come my uncle doesn't know your address?We had to advertise in the newspaper. I don't have my own apartment, I share it with other people. Then you can also leave the address to him. Why?I don't want to see anyone. Why don't you want to see me? He wanted to answer, but couldn't speak.He pulled a chair from the table and sat down on the edge of it.He knew he should ask her children, but he couldn't.Even when he heard people talking about children who were alive and healthy, he felt something bordering on horror.He used to change the subject every time Jadwiga or Martha expressed their desire to bear him a child.There were photographs of Cheweed Jr. and David among the papers he wrote, but he never dared to look at them.Hermann hadn't treated his children the way a father should treat them.At one point, he even denied their existence, playing the role of The Bachelor.Before him was Tamara, a witness to his crime.He was worried that she would cry, but she kept her composure. When did you know I was alive?he asked. when?after the war.By a strange coincidence.An acquaintance of mine who was actually a good friend was wrapping something in a Yiddish newspaper from Munich and just happened to see your name in the paper. where were you thenStill in Russia? Tamara didn't answer, and he didn't ask further.From his experience with Martha and others who survived the concentration camps in Germany, he knew that the whole truth would never be heard from those who narrowly escaped death in concentration camps or wandered in Russia. Not because they lied, but because it was impossible for them to tell the whole story. Where do you live?Tamara asked, what work?While sitting in the bus, Herman imagined Tamara asking these questions.But he still sat there blankly, silent. I didn't know you were alive, just Tamara smiled mockingly.Which lucky woman took my place? She is not Jewish.She was the daughter of a Pole, and I hid in her house. Tamara thought for a moment about his answer.a farmer? Yes. Are you paying her back? You can say that. Tamara watched him without answering.There was a look of absent-mindedness in her face that said one thing and thought another. What are you doing?she asked again. Work for a rabbi, an American rabbi. What for the rabbi?Answer questions about the laws of religious rites? Write him a book. What is he doing then?Dancing with pagan girls? The reality is pretty much what you might imagine.I see that you already know this country quite well. There was an American woman in our labor camp.She died of dysentery and starvation.I have the address of her sister, who, on her deathbed, shook my hand and asked me to promise to find her relatives and tell them what happened to her. How were your years? Tamara bit her lower lip.She shook her head, as if to express the futility of telling unbelievable things.This was not the chatty Tamara he had known in the past, but someone else.Suddenly, a strange thought occurred to him, maybe this woman was not Tamara but her sister.Then she spoke suddenly. I can never tell the full story of what I've been through.In fact, I don't really know myself either.I've been through so much that sometimes I imagine I've been through nothing.Many things, even our life together, I have completely forgotten.I remember lying on a plank in Kazakhstan trying to recall why I took the children to visit my father in the summer of 1939, but I just couldn't find any reason or purpose for doing so. We saw logs in the forest twelve hours a day.It was too cold to sleep at night.It also stinks so bad I can't breathe.Many people suffer from beriberi.A person was talking to you and discussing plans with you a minute ago, but suddenly he stopped talking.You talk to him and he doesn't answer.You look closer and see that he is dead. So I lay there and asked myself, why didn't I go to Zivkef with Hermann?But I can't recall a single thing.They told me it was a mental illness.I suffer from mental illness.Sometimes I remember everything, and sometimes I don't remember anything.In the past, the Bolsheviks [Note: A faction in the party in the early days of the Soviet Communist Party of the former Soviet Union. ] taught us to be atheists, but I still think everything is predestined.As fate would have it, I'd have to stand by and watch the thugs rip off my father's beard and rip off one cheek.No one who hadn't seen my father at that time would have understood what it meant to be a Jew.I never understood it myself, otherwise I would have followed in his footsteps. My mother fell at their feet and they stomped on her with their leather boots and spit on her.They would have raped me, but I just had my period and you know how badly I bleed.Ah, then amenorrhea, simply amenorrhea.Where does blood come from when a man has no bread to eat?You ask what happened to me?A speck of dust that is blown across land and desert cannot tell where it has been.Who is that heretic who hid you? It's our servant.You know her Yadwija. You married her?Tamara looked like she was about to laugh. Yes. Excuse me, is she being stupid?Your mother always made fun of her.She doesn't even know how to put on shoes.I remember your mother telling me she wanted to put her left shoe on her right.If she was given money to buy something, she would lose it. She saved my life. Yes, I think one's life is above all else.Where did you marry her?In Poland? in Germany. Is there no other way to repay her?Well, I'd better not ask. There is nothing else to ask.That's the way it is. Tamara stared intently at her legs.She lifted her skirt up a bit, scratched her knees, then pulled it down over it.Where do you live?Here in New York? In Brooklyn, part of New York. I know.I have an address there.I have a notebook full of addresses.我需要一年的時間才能跑遍那些人家，通知死者的親屬，這個人是怎麼死的，那個人是怎麼死的。我已經去過布魯克林了。我嬸嬸告訴我怎麼走，我一個人坐地鐵去的。我到一戶人家去，這家人沒有一個人懂意第緒語。我試著講俄語、波蘭語、德語，可他們只懂英語。我試著用手勢告訴他們，他們的姑姑已經死了。可孩子們只是笑話我。那位母親看起來倒像是個很好的女人，但一點也不像是猶太人。你說你是幹什麼的給拉比寫作？ 赫爾曼點點頭。是的，可以這麼說。我還是個書籍推銷員。他發現自己已經養成說謊的習慣。 你另外還要幹這事？你推銷什麼書？意第緒語書籍？ 意第緒語、英語、希伯來語的書。我是所謂的旅行推銷員。 你都跑哪些地方？ 各大城市。 你出門的時候，你妻子幹什麼呢？ 別人的老婆在丈夫出門的時候幹什麼呢？在美國這兒，推銷可是個重要的行業。 你跟她有孩子嗎？ 孩子？No. 就是你有孩子，我也不會吃驚的。我遇見過一些和原來的納粹結婚的年輕猶太人，在談到有些姑娘為了保全性命的所作所為的時候，我最好還是不吱聲。人們完全墮落了。在我隔壁那張床上，兄妹倆打得火熱。他們甚至都等不及天黑。因此，還有什麼能使我感到奇怪呢？她把你藏在哪兒？ 我告訴過你，在一個草料棚裡。 她父母親不知道？ 她沒有父親。她只有母親和一個姐姐。她們不知道。 她們當然知道。鄉下人很狡猾。她們估計戰後你會跟她結婚，把她帶到美國來。我猜想你跟我在一起的時候你就爬到她床上去了。 我沒有爬到她床上去過。你這是在胡說八道。她們怎麼會知道我會得到去美國的護照？事實上，我原來計劃到巴勒斯坦去的。 她們知道，她們知道。雅德維珈可能是個白癡，但是她母親跟其他農民談過這事，他們幫她估計出來的。人人都想到美國來。全世界的人都渴望到美國來。如果名額沒有限制，美國就會擠得連插針之地都沒有。別以為我在生你的氣。第一，我現在對誰都不會生氣；第二，你不知道我還活著。咱倆生活在一起的時候，你就欺騙我。你離開孩子們。你當時知道戰爭即將爆發，可你在最後幾個星期中連一個字都不寫給我。我知道一些做父親的為了和孩子們待在一起，冒著生命危險越過國境。那些已經設法逃往俄國的男人，由於渴望和全家在一起又回到了納粹統治區。可是你一直待在齊甫凱夫，和你的情婦一起鑽進一個草料棚。我怎麼還可能妄想對這樣的人有什麼要求呢？嗯，你幹嘛不跟她生孩子？ 我不要孩子，就是這麼回事。 幹嘛這麼看著我？你跟她結了婚。你覺得我父親的外孫不好，你為他們感到羞恥，好像他們是你頭上的疥癬，既然如此，你幹嘛不讓雅德維珈另外給你生幾個孩子？她的父親當然比我的好。 嗯，剛才有一會兒，我以為你變了，可現在我看你還是原來的你。 不，不是原來的我。你現在看見的是另一個女人。那個離開了被殺害的孩子、逃到斯基巴這是那個村子的名字去的塔瑪拉是另一個塔瑪拉。我已經死了；妻子死了，丈夫可以愛怎麼樣就怎麼樣。是啊，我的軀體還到處閒逛。它甚至還來到了紐約。他們給我穿上尼龍襪、給我染髮、塗指甲油，願上帝保佑我，不過異教徒總是給屍體化妝的，而現在猶太人成了異教徒。所以，我對誰也不記恨，同時對誰也不相信。哪怕你跟一個納粹女子一個在屍體上跳舞、用鞋後跟在猶太女兒的眼睛裡轉動的女人結婚，我也不會感到驚奇。你怎麼可能了解發生過什麼事呢？我只是希望你不要再像欺騙我那樣欺騙你的新媳婦。 從通往走廊和廚房的門後傳來了腳步聲和說話聲。Rib.亞伯拉罕．尼森．雅羅斯拉夫走進來，後面跟著謝娃．哈黛絲。這兩口子不是好好地而是拖著腳在走。Rib.亞伯拉罕．尼森對赫爾曼說：你可能還沒有一套自己的房間。在你找到房子前你可以跟我住在一起。好客是行好事，何況你是親戚。正如《聖經》上說的：你不可避開你自己的親人。 塔瑪拉打斷了他的話。叔叔，他另外娶了個妻子。 謝娃．哈黛絲的雙手交叉緊握著。Rib.亞伯拉罕．尼森看起來神情為難。 嗯，那又是另一回事 有一個親眼目睹的人說得很肯定，他們是怎麼赫爾曼停止不說了。他忘了提醒塔瑪拉，不要告訴他們他妻子是異教徒。他朝塔瑪拉看了看，搖搖頭。突然他產生一陣孩子氣的衝動，想在受到責備前離開房間。他朝門口走去，簡直自己也不知道要幹什麼。 你別跑啊。我不會強迫你接受什麼事的，塔瑪拉說。 這可真是只有在報紙上才能看到的事，謝娃．哈黛絲說。 你沒有犯什麼罪，但願你沒有，亞伯拉罕．尼森說，你過去要是知道她還活著，那就意味著你現在和一個女人同居是非法的。但是現在這種情況，熱爾雄拉比的禁止對你並不適用。有一件事是肯定的：你一定得和現在的妻子離婚。你過去幹嘛不告訴我們？ 我不想打擾你們。 這時赫爾曼把手指放在嘴唇上對塔瑪拉作了個手勢。Rib.亞伯拉罕．尼森抓著自己的鬍鬚。謝娃．哈黛絲的眼內流露出一種母親似的憂傷神情。她戴著軟帽的頭點著，表示服從男人可以拈花惹草這個古老的特權，哪怕最正直的男人都不由得愛好摟著新歡睡覺。這種情況一向如此，將來也將如此，她似乎在這麼想著。 這種事情需要男人和妻子單獨商量，她說，在這段時間裡，我去做點兒吃的。她朝門口轉過身去。 我剛吃過，謝謝，赫爾曼馬上說。 他妻子是個高明的廚子。她肯定已經為他的晚飯準備好油乎乎的湯。塔瑪拉帶著正統的猶太人在提到豬肉時所表現出的那種嘲弄的神色做了個怪相。 喝杯茶，來個小甜餅？謝娃．哈黛絲問道。 不，真的不要什麼。 也許你們應該到另一間房間裡去談談，里布．亞伯拉罕．尼森說，就像他們說的，這是他和她之間單獨的事情。如果我能幫助你們，我一定盡力而為。老人改變了語氣繼續說：這是個道德混亂的時代。有罪的是那些邪惡的殺人凶手。別責怪你們自己。你們也是沒有辦法啊。 叔叔，猶太人中惡人也不少。你知道是誰把我們拖到那塊草地上去的？是猶太警察。天還沒亮，他們就把每家每戶的門砸了，搜查地下室和閣樓。如果發現裡面藏著人，他們就用橡皮警棍打這些人。他們用繩子把我們圈起來，好像我們是要送去屠宰的牛。我對他們中的一個人說了一個字，他就踢我，踢得可狠了，我永遠也不會忘記。他們這些笨蛋不明白，他們自己也逃脫不了同樣的命運。 俗話說：無知是萬惡之源。 嗯，先知以賽亞說：人必屈膝，人必為卑。人們不信仰造物主，那無政府主義就會占優勢。 這就是人類啊，赫爾曼似乎在自言自語地說著。 《摩西五書》上說：人從小時心裡懷著惡念。所以要有《摩西五書》啊。好吧，一起到裡面去談談這件事吧。 Rib.亞伯拉罕．尼森打開通往一間臥室的門。屋裡有兩張床排成一排，床頭對著床頭，床上鋪著歐洲床單，跟在家鄉的時候一個樣。塔瑪拉聳聳肩，先走進去，赫爾曼跟在後面。這間房間使赫爾曼想起了幾年前新娘和新郎在新婚之夜被送入的洞房。 室外，紐約市在飛速前進，但是在這兒掛著一半簾子的窗戶後面卻保留著納倫采夫或齊甫凱夫的一部分。這裡的一切：褪色的黃牆壁、高高的天花板、地板，甚至五斗櫃的式樣和扶手椅的面子都再現了一幅往日的景象。一個有經驗的舞臺導演不可能選擇比這更合適的布景了，赫爾曼這麼想著。他聞到一股鼻煙味。他在一張扶手椅上坐下，塔瑪拉坐在床沿上。 赫爾曼說：你不必告訴我，但是如果你認為我已經死了，那你肯定另外另外還有別人 他說不下去了，他的襯衫又濕了。 塔瑪拉狡黠地打量著他。 你想知道？馬上要知道一切？ 你不一定要告訴我。不過，我對你可一直是老實的，應該 你有別的選擇嗎？你是不得已才把真相告訴我的。根據法律，我是你的妻子，那就是說你有了兩個妻子。在美國這兒，對這事情是很嚴格的。不管我過去幹了些什麼，我希望你明白一件事：愛情對我來說不是兒戲。 我也沒說愛情是兒戲呀。 你把咱倆的婚姻弄得叫人啼笑皆非。我結婚的時候可是個天真的姑娘，而且 別說了！ 事實上，不管我們過去遭受了多少磨難，也根本不知道我們是不是會活到明天或是下一個小時，但是我們需要愛情。因此，在正常的情況下，我們就更嚮往愛情。人們躺在地下室或是閣樓裡，忍饑挨餓，渾身長滿虱子，可是他們還是接吻，握手。我從來沒想到在這種環境中，人們還這麼充滿激情。在你看來我什麼都不如，可別的男人們盯著我看，恨不得把我吞下去哪。啊，願上帝保佑我！我的孩子們被殺害了，而男人們要我跟他們勾搭。他們給我一個麵包、一點肥肉，或在工作中給我一點方便。別認為這些是小事情，在那個時候，一點麵包皮就是理想。幾個馬鈴薯就是一份財產了。人們一直在集中營裡做買賣，就在離毒氣室幾步遠的地方做交易。全部貨物可以裝在一隻皮鞋裡，不過這就是那些走投無路的人們活命的資本啊。那些漂亮的男人他們年紀比我輕，妻子也很漂亮追求我，對我許下無法兌現的諾言。 我沒有想到你還可能活著，不過即使你還活著，我也沒有義務一定要忠於你。相反，我希望能忘記你，但是希望是一回事，可能又是另一回事。我一定得愛一個男人，否則我會對性關係厭惡。我總是羨慕那些把愛情當遊戲的女人。要不是遊戲，那究竟是什麼呢？但是我身上有某種東西我那虔誠的女祖先的血液阻止我這麼幹。 我對自己說，我是個該死的傻瓜，但是在一個男人碰我的時候我又不得不避他。他們認為我瘋了，他們也說得對。他們叫我偽君子。人們變得粗魯起來。一個極其受人尊敬的男人企圖強姦我。在這過程中，我在亞姆布爾的難友還著手為我安排配偶。他們都這麼說：你還年輕，你得結婚。可是結婚的是你，不是我。有一件事我是明白的：我們相信的仁慈的上帝是不存在的。 那你沒有過別的男人？ 你聽了很失望吧。是的，我沒有過別的男人，而且永遠不會再有了。我希望清清白白地站在我的孩子們的靈魂面前。 我想你說過上帝是不存在的。 如果上帝能夠目睹所有這一切恐怖而保持沉默，那他就不是上帝。我對虔誠的猶太人，甚至拉比都這麼說過。在我們勞動營裡有個青年人，他曾經在老齊科夫當過拉比。他是那麼虔誠，像他那樣的人沒有了。他得在森林裡工作，儘管他沒有力氣做這工作。每逢星期六，他都不吃他那一份麵包，因為按規定安息日是不能攜帶任何東西的。他的母親，老拉比的妻子，是個聖潔的人，只有在天的上帝知道她是怎麼安慰其他人，是怎麼把她自己最後的一點東西拿出來幫助別人的。在勞動營這種條件下，她的眼睛瞎了。不過她背得出全部祈禱詞，而且一直背到臨終前。 有一天我問她兒子，上帝怎麼能允許出現這樣的悲劇？他千方百計試著給我解釋。我們不了解上帝的做法，等等。我沒有跟他辯論，但是我感到痛苦。我把我們孩子們的情況告訴了他，他的臉變得像石灰那麼白，顯出羞愧的神情，好像他自己對這件事負有責任似的。最後他說：我懇求你，別再多說了。 是啊，是啊。 你連問都沒問一聲孩子們。 赫爾曼等了片刻。有什麼好問的呢？ 沒有，別問了。我知道，成年人中有偉人，但是我還從未相信過，孩子們很小的孩子們，能夠成為偉人。他們一夜之間就長大了。我想把自己那一份給他們一些，但是他們不吃我那份，他們像聖人那樣死去。靈魂是存在的，上帝是不存在的。別反駁我。那是我認定的道理。我要你知道，我看到我們的小大衛和切維德到我這兒來。不過不是在夢中，而是在醒著的時候。自然，你認為我瘋了，不過那對我毫無影響。 他們對你說些什麼？ 啊，各種不同的事兒。他們在他們現在待的地方又成了孩子。What do you want to do?跟我離婚？ No. 那我怎麼辦呢？跟你妻子住在一起？ 首先，你自己得弄到一套公寓。 是啊，我不能待在這兒。