— Why, nothing, of course. What could I say? Nothing is all I have been able to say for many days now. She has become a different person: wild, bitter, heedless, morose… I have made up my mind — I have had enough — I want nothing more to do with her — I am leaving. I shall go live with Grandmother…
— I am leaving… oh, just wait until you hear about it all, dear Papa!
— Yes, but only there — in that hotel in Stamboul — while we were waiting for the train to Europe…
— We had no choice. My word, Father, we had no choice! Wait one minute — listen, Father — we were running low on money…
— I had no idea how we would ever get out of there… my word…
— Yes. That was my promise and I kept it. Everywhere — even in Venice — everywhere…
— In Palestine too. Naturally. There especially. The first night I slept a floor below her, surrounded by parturient women… and after that, in a hostel miles away…
— I will tell you about it soon enough.
— A clinic of sorts.
— Aboard ship too. Of course. We had private berths everywhere. And if none were available, we asked for a partition…
— Yes. But that was only toward the end of our journey. And we reached Stamboul in the dead of night. I did not want to leave the station, because I was afraid we would miss the train for Europe in the morning — we had had quite enough of the Turks — and there was only one room left there — not to mention the expense…
— What I am saying, Father, is — but listen to me, will you! — why must you be so damnably suspicious? — that we entered Turkey with exactly one hundred bishliks…
— About thirty thalers. I did not want to touch the gold coins — not until I knew where we stood. Look — they are still strapped to my waist — not a coin less than you gave me…
— I know exactly. Everything can be accounted for. You will have an account of every penny.
— Of course, Father, of course. It’s not the money but the principle. I know that. But there were mishaps. There was a tragic accident in Beirut, where we had to stay an extra night — and our ship sailed for Stamboul without us, with all our luggage aboard — by the time we caught up with it, it was gone — even the gifts we bought in Jerusalem had been pilfered…
— Later… one thing at a time…
— A man was killed. A good friend.
— But for heaven’s sake, Father, I am telling you. I was afraid we would run out of money, and we —
— No. I am not shouting. Forgive my asking, but what exactly is it that you want?
— In mourning? In mourning for what? For Linka’s hair? That much at least is retrievable.
— Other things are not.
— For example… for example… no matter…
— No. I do not wish to frighten you.
— For example… suppose, Father, I were to say innocence… or happiness…
— Happiness. Yes.
— In no special sense. Happiness. Innocence. I do not wish to distress you, but we were close to losing her there — she wished to remain — I pulled her out of the vortex with my last strength…
— Of Palestine, dear Papa. Your Eretz-Yisro’el…
— I am skipping around, that is so — you will have to excuse me — but not now, because I see you have not the patience. You are falling off your feet. Go to sleep, Father… tomorrow… just fetch me a cigarette first, because the ones I have are no better than straw…
— From Palestine. They smoke like the blazes there too.
— Not at all. Here, take the whole pack — how stupid of me not to have brought more — I should have realized what a cigarette from there would mean to you…
— This? The devil knows. I suppose it’s some sort of camel.
— Perhaps a Jewish camel.
— They are actually grayer, more sand-colored — rather patient beasts — perhaps because they have such small brains…
— Thank you.
— The Mohammedans, of course.
— Some wander and some do not.
— Most? Most live in cities and villages.
— Yes, real cities.
— Where? Nowhere…
— I did not count, but there are some.
— No, dearest Papa, I am not cross. The wheels of the train are simply still spinning in my head. For five whole days we have been on rails: Europe is quite overrun by them. A young German engineer who came aboard at Salonika and shared our compartment for two days told me that in ten or twenty years it will be possible to cross the entire Continent in a single coach without having to step out onto a platform…
— So he said. But through the window, Father, Europe looks ablaze with unrest, with the profoundest gloom. The wagons are packed — in the villages you see great bonfires — the peasants are leaving their plows and turning into itinerant pilgrims — you see fires in all the fields. Everyone is talking about the fin de Steèle, the last days of this century. There is a sense of exultation, but also of great anxiety, and everywhere there are seers and prophets. It is one great carnival, I tell you! Most of all, the Russian muzhiks, whom you see singing and kneeling and lighting candles all over. And everywhere there are Greeks and Turks out to swindle you, and wherever you look, Father, in every railroad coach, our shifty-eyed Jews too. Some are heading west, some south — very practical pilgrims, you may be sure — not a God-seeker among them — no, Him they carry around on their backs, along with their bundles and their children, quite crushing them — you have no idea how many unwashed Jewish children are underfoot wherever you go…
— We left Palestine two weeks ago. By the Feast of Tabernacles we were already in Beirut…
— With that man.
— The same physician who lured us to Jerusalem… did not Linka write you about him before we sailed?
— Dr. Mani.
— A Jew, of course. What did you think? You wouldn’t happen to have any brandy around, would you?
— I am suddenly shaking all over.
— Well, never mind… as long as we can get this fire going again… I can’t tell you how I dreamed of it… the colder the nights, the more I pictured myself coming home and making straight for it…
— It’s the Sabbath? So it is… I have totally lost track of time… well, then, let’s call for Mrazhik and have him poke some life into the coals…
— Are you sure that you want to hear about it? That you feel up to it?
— I believe I do… but first let’s see to the fire… where is Mrazhik? Don’t tell me he’s become an observant Jew too. How quiet it is up there! Do you think she has fallen asleep? Or is she telling Mama her story in a whisper? Perhaps, Father, you would rather go upstairs and hear it directly from her — don’t let me keep you — my feelings won’t be hurt…
— Very well, then…
— Very well. Let there be two stories, an upstairs and a downstairs one. As for the truth, it can run up and down between them…
— From the beginning? And where, I ask you, is that?
— Don’t be angry. No, don’t; I am not being coy. Incidentally, I met your Herzl, although I had no chance to give him regards from you… it was too hurried and confused an encounter…
— From the beginning? But you already know all that. Linka wrote you three letters.
— All right… all right… but where does the beginning begin? I fear distressing you.
— To Palestine? But what sort of question is that? I mean, for a Zionist like you… or have you forgotten that you sent us to a Zionist congress, ha ha?
— Well, then, we simply took the next logical step…