Like a person who remembers something he has to do and regrets every wasted moment, he didn’t say just what he had forgotten. But he directed his steps toward a store that sold foreign books, one of many that sprang up when German immigrants arrived, bringing with them many books but not enough money for spacious apartments with room for bookcases, like the ones they were accustomed to in Germany. Thus, they were compelled to sell their books for next to nothing. Herbst’s interest at that particular moment was not in those books, but in the collection of a certain orange-grove owner from Petah Tikva, which the proprietor had recently purchased from his heirs. True, for the most part these books were German classics, the best of which he already owned, and the lesser ones were unappealing. But these were elegant editions, bound in leather, and Herbst was considering an exchange. He wanted to trade his ordinary editions for these handsome ones, adding to the deal a number of books he was ready to dispose of anyway.
This is how these collectors operate. A wealthy man, of German origin, settled in Petah Tikva, where he owned fields, vineyards, citrus groves, houses — assorted liquid and non-liquid assets. He married a woman from the Hungarian community. They each received a stipend. They didn’t know what to do with these funds, provided by Jews all over the world to support their counterparts in the Holy Land, for they were self-supporting. They decided to order the works of Germany’s great writers, and, since the communities in Germany and Hungary had such ample resources, they were able to include handsome and elegant bindings for the books, beyond anything anywhere else in this country. The couple also ordered various novels for their own pleasure. This was their practice until the outbreak of the Great War. After the war, the English language began to enjoy the respect that had once belonged to German, because the English were now in charge. This man and woman died, leaving their collection of German books to their children. As the number of newcomers grew and apartments became expensive, the heirs began to resent the books their parents had collected. They took up an entire room, and space was worth money. So they decided to call in a book dealer, who appraised the books and gave them what he gave them for their collection of German classics and novels. This is the tale of the books Herbst had in mind to pursue.
Chapter fourteen
Herbst remembered the books that were brought from Petah Tikva, and he was glad to have remembered them while he was in town, so that he might see them first, before anyone else. At this time of day, most people were occupied and not free to deal with books. He consulted his watch and turned toward Jaffa Road, which he would follow to Hasollel Street. He took one shortcut, then another, from Haneviim Street to Harav Kook Street. He passed the big bakery, as well as the offices of the rabbinate at the beginning of the street, and went as far as the flower garden near the entrance to Doctor Ticho’s eye clinic; then he veered toward Jaffa Road. Remembering that, to the left of Harav Kook Street, there was another cut one could take, he turned back, followed it up three or four steps, and came to a narrow lane. A boy with a basket full of baked goods was coming toward him. Herbst saw the boy and was reassured that he was on the right track, for these streets were not to be trusted. They could have been closed off since the last time you were there, making the route longer rather than shorter, as intended. The boy pressed himself to the wall to let Herbst pass, since the road was too narrow for two bodies moving in opposite directions. Herbst nodded in gratitude and surprise that the boy was so polite as to let him pass first. The boy laughed. Herbst asked him, “Why are you laughing?” The boy answered, “Because.” Herbst said, “‘Because’ is no answer. Tell me, please, why were you laughing?” The boy answered, “I remembered a funny story, so I laughed.” He said, “What funny story did you remember?” He said, “Something I learned last night.” He said, “You go to night school?” The boy nodded, with the basket still on his head. Herbst said, “What are you studying, and what was the story you remembered? Isn’t that basket heavy? I’ll take it down, and you can tell me the story.” The boy said, “Heavy? If I wanted to, I could dance the hora without letting the basket fall, without losing a single cake or one sesame seed.” Herbst said, “Is that so? But don’t you want to tell me the funny story? Tell it, and I’ll listen.” The boy said, “If I want, I can tell it word for word.” Herbst said, “Word for word? Does the teacher expect you to know it word for word?” The boy said, “I wanted to learn it.” “Word for word? How did you arrive at that?” The boy stared at him and said, “It happened, all by itself.” “By itself? How come?” The boy said, “I thought it was such a good story that I read it again and again and again. Meanwhile, the book slipped out of my hand, and the words kept coming out of my mouth, just like in the book. I picked up the book, glanced at it, and saw that every word I said was in the book.” Herbst said, “Meanwhile, you probably forgot half of the story.” The boy said, “If you like, you can test me.” Herbst said, “I’m not a teacher, so I won’t test you. I just want to hear whether you really still remember the whole story.” The boy said, “But if someone comes, we’ll have to get out of the way.” Herbst said, “Then we’ll get out of the way.” The boy said, “I’ll move backward. Which way will you move? Forward or backward?” Herbst said, “What would you suggest?” The boy laughed again. Herbst said, “When the time comes, we’ll worry. Now for your story. But put down the basket. It must be heavy.” The boy shook his head back and forth, studying Herbst’s face to see if he noticed that the cakes in the basket hadn’t stirred at all. He said to him, “I could stick one arm on the ground and stretch the other toward the sky without disturbing the basket. Want to see?” Herbst said, “If you tell the story first.” The boy said, “Good. I’ll tell it.
“There was once a river. There was a bridge over the river so one could cross to the other side. It was such a narrow bridge that only one person could cross at a time. One day, two billy goats approached the bridge, one at each end. Each one of them stood his ground — one on this side of the river, the other on the other side of the river. When they finally got to the middle of the bridge, one goat insisted that he had seniority and should be allowed to pass first, that he was greater and more distinguished than his brother, being descended from a herd that originated on Mount Gilead. The other goat, goaded by his lineage, claimed seniority too. He considered himself especially distinguished because of the verse in Exodus ‘Those women whose hearts were stirred by wisdom spun goat’s hair,’ a reference to the very goats he was descended from, whose hair adorned the tabernacle. They stood confronting each other, making no move to back away. They stood there interminably. One of the goats became enraged and goaded the other goat, trying to provoke him. ‘You haven’t made a move yet. Bestir yourself and get going, before I reduce you to goat dung.’ To which his rival answered, ‘How dare you speak so brazenly?’ They fought, seizing each other’s heads and locking horns, until they both fell into the depths of the river.”
While Herbst stood listening to the tale of the goats, he heard the sound of young legs and saw a courtyard, half-obstructed by boxes and battered crates, half-screened by woven wire that formed a shedlike structure, which was draped with sacks and branches. Inside the shed were six or seven girls in exercise clothes. A woman, wearing a summer dress and a straw hat, seemed to be in charge. With one hand, she issued orders; with the other, she wiped her sweaty brow. An old man in hospital clothes surveyed the scene from a window in the wall that overlooked the shed. Putting these elements together, you realized that the courtyard was next to the hospital and that next to it was a girl’s school with no facilities for calisthenics, so this spot was used for that purpose.