She took out the baby and presented her to her father, watching to see if he could tell how fetching she was. Manfred stared at the rosy tidbit, its two spots of twinkling blue fixed on him, not knowing what to say. Henrietta turned her eyes toward her husband and toward the infant, not knowing what to say either. She fixed her eyes on his. Manfred knew he was expected to say something. He arched his lower lip and said, “So this little worm is our daughter.” The nurse put the infant back in the basket and left silently. Manfred went to sit beside his wife.
Once more, Henrietta took his hand in hers and spoke. “Now, my love, you must relay our news to the girls, so they know they have a little sister. And now, my love, let’s get down to essentials. What name will we give our daughter? I should confess I have already given her a name, not one of those new names that are chirped over every cradle, but a name from the Bible.”
“What do you call her?” Manfred asked. Henrietta answered, “What do I call her? If I tell you, you’ll agree.” “So?” Herbst asked impatiently. “So,” Henrietta answered, “so I call her Sarah.” Manfred heard and was silent. After a while he asked, “Why did you choose that name?” Henrietta looked up at her husband with special affection and answered with a question. “Wasn’t your mother called Sarah?” Manfred nodded and said, “Yes. Yes, my mother’s name was Sarah, but she was called Serafina.” Henrietta said, “Tell me this, my love. Can a child be called Serafina in this country?” Manfred said, “It’s truly impossible.” Henrietta said, “So let’s name her for your mother’s grandmother, who was probably called Sarah.” Manfred said, “Yes, yes.” Henrietta said, “I assumed my lord and master would be thrilled to name his daughter after his mother,” Manfred said, “Yes, yes. Of course, Henriett. Of course.” Henrietta said, “Unless you prefer one of those new names, such as Aviva or Zeva.” At this point Henrietta puckered her lips and chirped like one of those women, the mothers of Aviva and Zeva, “Avivale, Zevale. Remember Elizabeth Modrao, the daughter of Professor Modrao? Do you remember telling us that her grandfather was called Samuel, a rare name for a Christian in Germany? Do you remember why he was called Samuel? You don’t remember? She told you, and you told me. It was because he was born in Jerusalem, on Shavuot, and his father saw fit, in honor of the land and the festival, to give his son a name from the Hebrew Bible. After what the Germans did to us,” Henrietta added, “why say anything good about them. Still, it must be admitted, they did pay homage to Palestine.”
Another nurse came in and whispered something in the new mother’s ear. Henrietta glanced at her husband and said, “You must leave now, Fred. It’s really too bad. I want so much to talk to you, but I can’t delay the nurse, who is here to take care of me. So, for now, Fred, let’s say goodbye. Come back this afternoon, if you can. In about four hours, or four and a half. Did you have breakfast? Did you eat any of the eggs Zahara sent us from her kvutza? Please, be sure to have an egg in the morning and another in the evening. If you have two at a time, all the better. The natives say seven olives are the equivalent of one egg. If you ask me, an egg is an egg. As for olives, if you happen to like them, they spice up a meal. But not for a main dish — even eggs themselves don’t have such pretensions. According to Dr. Taglicht, the Talmud states that whatever is like an egg — that’s right, whatever is like it — doesn’t match it in quality. Now, my dearest, tell me where you plan to have lunch. I insist, my dearest, that you go to a good restaurant and have a solid meal. Meat, not vegetables. When you eat out, be sure to avoid salads, since you can’t be sure the greens were properly washed. I’m told restaurants buy their greens from Arab women, and you know they water their gardens with sewage, which is the source of most of the disease in Jerusalem. Now then, my love, are you listening? Say goodbye to Sarah.” “Sarah? Who’s Sarah?” Henrietta smiled and said, “My little Sarah, you chose a forgetful father. He hears your name is Sarah and forgets.” “Ah,” said Manfred, rummaging in his pockets. It seemed to him that it was the anniversary of his mother’s death, and he wanted to consult the calendar. “Now you know who Sarah is,” Henrietta continued. “Sarah, your daddy is saying goodbye to you, and I’m saying goodbye to your daddy in your name. I’ll say bye to you too. Goodbye, Fred. Don’t forget to write the girls. I would ask you to phone them if I didn’t know how hard that is to do.” “I’ll phone.” “You will? Bless you, my love. When they let me out of bed, I’ll go to the phone and call each of them. See you at four. If you promise to rest after lunch, I won’t expect you until five. Right away, nurse. Bye, Fred. At five.”
Chapter seven
Herbst left the hospital and stood near the fence, trying to recall the precise date of his mother’s death. By his calculation, it was not the previous evening, but he wanted to consult the calendar to be certain. He looked in his pocket, but the calendar wasn’t there. He had changed his clothes in the morning, and the calendar was still in yesterday’s jacket.
He had left the calendar in his old jacket. He was haunted by the thought that what had happened to him the night before could have occurred on the eve of the anniversary of his mother’s death. It was good that it did not occur on the actual anniversary. Still, the event was bad in itself. Even if I was after something of that sort, now that it has come to pass, I see it wasn’t what I was after. In seven days, Henrietta will be home again. May the intervening days be straightforward and uncompromised. If a man sins once, only once, the sin is not erased; still, one offense is less than two. What did Henrietta ask of me? Henrietta asked me to inform the girls that they have a sister. And something further. When he remembered what else she had asked, he looked at his watch to see how many hours remained until lunch. He noticed that his watch strap was worn. He took off the watch, put it in his jacket, and straightened his tie.
Julian Weltfremdt, a relative of Ernst Weltfremdt’s, appeared. They were related in family but not in fortune, for one was a full professor and the other was not even a lecturer. He deserved to be a lecturer, even in one of the great European universities, and if Professor Weltfremdt had supported him, he would have secured an appointment. But Ernst Weltfremdt was afraid he might be charged with nepotism, that is to say, with bestowing favors on relatives. Ernst used to say to Julian, “Would you have me behave like that administrator who made his brother secretary, found jobs for his mother and father, and then changed their names, so no one would know they were related?” Since Julian Weltfremdt considered himself a victim, he allied himself with other would-be victims and, like them, engaged in challenging the establishment. Unlike most of them, a thwarted lot that indulged in gossip and slander, Julian Weltfremdt was devoted to truth. Since scholarship has many branches and truth has many violators, he became more and more outspoken against those who mock the truth.
At that time, the entire country was astir with Professor Wechsler’s discovery. He had found a manuscript attributed to Saint Justin the Martyr on the subject of the profane aspects of life and the love of purity. I am not an expert on the writings of the Church Fathers, nor do I know whether he uncovered an ancient source or was misled by one of the counterfeits common in Jerusalem for three generations now. Between eagerness to innovate and the proliferation of counterfeiters, the world has been inundated with parchments, jugs, burial chests, figurines, idols, and gods from Enoch’s time and earlier. Moreover, most of the scholars from Germany came to this country intent on discovering antiquities, and they found what they were after. Actually, Professor Wechsler was legitimate, as was his enterprise. But he was also extremely eager to publicize his discoveries. To this end, he invited a host of journalists, as administrators often do in the interests of their institution, attracting attention to themselves as if they were the institution. Wechsler presented his discoveries to the journalists, glorifying himself at every opportunity. The journalists listened, sent telegrams to their newspapers, and provided Wechsler with a public. Scholars of other nations began to view this country’s scholars and academics with suspicion, which gave Julian Weltfremdt an opportunity to deplore the university’s scholars, especially Wechsler, whose behavior he considered scandalous. However Herbst viewed Wechsler’s activities, he dismissed them with a casual gesture and proceeded to enumerate some of Wechsler’s accomplishments. Weltfremdt was enraged and shrieked, “What I am telling you is deplorable, and that’s how you respond! Go and tell your father you need to be born again. Maybe this time you’ll turn out to be a man. By the way, did your wife give birth yet? Boy or girl?” “What if it was a girl?” Weltfremdt said, “Don’t tease me, Herbstlein. I believe you have two girls already.” Herbst said, “Now I have three.” “Three daughters? So now you have one more daughter. Don’t be disheartened. The world needs girls too. I see you’ve bought a new tie. Come, let’s wet our palates in honor of both these events. There’s a new café nearby. They try to serve real coffee. Let’s go there.” Herbst said, “You sound as if you’re their agent.” Weltfremdt said, “Not yet. If you prefer, we’ll go to another café.”