Mrs. Herbst rose from her chair while Professor Bachlam led her by the arm to the book shelf. While they stood there Bachlam said, Please, madam, stretch your arms out wide to each side. You see the books in that arm-span? I wrote them all, and still there are some that don’t fit between your arms. I doubt that even our friend Adjunct Professor Herbst could encompass all the books I’ve written between his outstretched arms. I’ve invested my whole life — and that of my wife — and haven’t gained a drop of benefit in this world from all these books, while to them — pardon me Adjunct Professor Herbst that I include you with the German crowd — to them authoring one small footnote the size of a lizard tail qualifies a man as a scholar. I am not speaking of the Gentile scholars, who write, and print, and publish great fat books. Why just yesterday I received a book from Professor Meier — six hundred folio pages — folio pages, madam, not mere single-sided pages. If we count pages it comes to one-thousand-twohundred, aside from the footnotes and references and bibliography which take another hundred pages. And you wouldn’t believe your ears about what the book is about — it’s about …. (*) Hanitschki, is that the doorbell? Where’s the maid? Go see who it is. Sit, madam, sit, you needn’t go. The guests who have arrived are just neighbors. Allow me to introduce you, Mrs. and Mr. Kattakibo, this is Mrs. Herbst and Mr. Adjunct Professor Dr. Herbst.
Since the neighbors weren’t intellectual folks the professor changed topics to news of the day, goings on in the country, and public affairs. He scratched the end of his nose, and rubbed his hands together, and said, From a reliable source, but of course I cannot say who, I’ve heard the Allies already have plans in place for what to do with Germany after the war.
Mrs. Bachlam looked adoringly at her all-knowing husband, from whom nothing escapes, yet she grew bored by the political talk. Turning to Mrs. Herbst, who was known as an industrious house-wife, she asked about her apricot preserves and what she does with grapes, if she makes puddings, and why hadn’t she brought her small daughter along. Professor Bachlam loves small children like life itself. Having overheard something about children, Bachlam jumped up and said, Madam, madam, grownups are worthless, but the children are our hope — only through them will we build our nation…Mrs. Bachlam chimed in detailing the professor’s great love for children. He eyed her with resentment for having interrupted him, plotting to regain control of the conversation as soon as she let up, and when she paused to inhale a breath, he began speaking, but she again broke in to his words. So unfolded their dialogue of praise, his-for-her and hers-for him, until other guests arrived — neighbors, academics, and students. Bachlam greeted them, gave them refreshments, and had an interesting word for each and every one suited to his interest, until the day grew dark.
Professor Bachlam was a religious man. While he had sharp criticism for various Jewish practices, and wrote critically of various superstitious customs, he was strict about most mitzvot and never violated the Sabbath. Therefore he didn’t put the light on in the room, but hinted to his wife that she might turn it on. When the light was lit the Herbsts got up to leave, but the professor detained them, first in the room, then in the hallway, and finally in the foyer. In the end he escorted them out, asking them to return soon for another visit. Outside there remained a bit of daylight, with cars carrying Sabbath travelers filling the street. Mrs. Herbst wanted to walk back to town on foot, but along the way felt very weary and wished to take a taxi, which Herbst agreed to do, since while talking with Professor Bachlam he thought of various things he wanted to fix in his article, and feared the long walk by foot would cause him to forget.
Sitting in the car Mrs. Herbst remarked to her husband, This man we were visiting has no love in his heart, not for a single person in this world. Herbst replied, But he has great love for the greatest man in Israel. Mrs. Herbst asked, Who is the greatest man in Israel that Professor Bachlam loves? Herbst answered, He is the one! Professor Bachlam himself is the great man in all his glory. In any case, it’s good that we made the visit. Perhaps on account of it he won’t stand in my way, or at least he’ll soften his objection to me. Mrs. Herbst sighed and said, If only!
— Translated by Jeffrey Saks
(* Agnon had left these facts — particular newly coined Hebrew words, or topic of Meier’s 1,200 page book — blank in the MS., apparently planning on filling in at a later point.)
Final Chapter
[This chapter, which originally appeared at the end of Book Three, was meant to be the final one. However, at a later date, Agnon put it aside and began writing Book Four.]
Shira came and stood in the tree, looking straight ahead with bewildered eyes. When she saw Manfred, she shrieked, a fierce and bitter shriek: “What are you doing here?” Manfred answered her and said, “Shira, I’m here because of you.” Shira raised her voice and said, “What madness! You had better get out while you can.” Manfred said, “Let me tell you something.” Shira shouted, “Madman, get out!” Manfred said, “I beg of you, calm down, and I’ll tell you something.” Shira said, “I don’t want to hear what a fool has to tell.” Manfred whispered, “Shira.” Shira turned away from him and was about to go. Manfred said, “Stay a minute and listen. Then you can go.”
Shira watched him and waited. Manfred said, “Give me your hand, Shira.” Shira said, “You must have lost your mind. Don’t you know what you’re risking here?” Manfred nodded and said, “I know, I know.” Shira said, “And you still want to take the risk?” Manfred sighed and said, “Whether I want to or not, I have no choice.” Shira studied him with her searching gaze and inquired, “How is one to understand your words?” Manfred said, “It doesn’t require much wisdom to understand. What I am saying is simple and obvious. I need to be with you, Shira. Even if…” Shira said, “What do you mean, ‘even if?” Manfred said, “Even if I end up in your situation.” Shira said, “What will your wife say? What will your daughters say?” Manfred said, “You ask what my wife will say and what my daughters will say. I have thought about all that. I have also thought about the son borne to me by my wife.” Shira said, “You have a son? Mazel tov.” She extended her hand to congratulate him, but, before touching him, she withdrew it.
Manfred continued, “Yes, Shira. A child was born to me; I was granted a son. He was admitted to the covenant of Abraham today. Do you remember, Shira, the night my daughter Sarah was born? After three daughters, my wife bore me a son, and the brit was today.” Shira said, “And you couldn’t find a time to visit me other than today?” Manfred said, “Shira, if it had been in my hands, I would have come sooner.” Shira said, “The last time I saw you, you didn’t seem especially enthralled with me. Remember, the day I bought new shoes?” Manfred nodded and said, “Yes, I remember.” Shira leaned against the wall and lifted her leg to display a lovely, graceful shoe, shaped rather like a sandal. Herbst studied the shoe for a while and said, “Yes, a sandal.” For a while he was silent. Then he sighed, a deep sigh, and asked, “Shira, how did you get here?” Shira said, “How did I get here? I came willingly. I may have come, not on my own and not willingly, but through the will of a power whose decrees determine our fate. Do you remember, Manfred, that I once told you I had been the companion of a Spanish prince and that I took him to the leper colony in Breslau?” Manfred nodded and said, “Yes, yes, Shira, I know. I have often thought about that. I assume that it’s because of him that you are where you are.” Shira said, “So you had better get out while you still can, my friend.” Manfred said, “My dear Shira, I have decided otherwise.” Shira fixed her eyes on him and asked, “Just what did you decide?” Manfred laughed sadly and said, “Can’t you see?” Shira said, “I can’t see anything, and I don’t want to see anything. But I can tell you this — get out! Get out of here, get out immediately!” Manfred said, “If I do go, I’ll come right back. Immediately.” Shira was mystified and asked, “Why? Why do you say that if you go you’ll come back?” Manfred said, “Why? As if I know why. Perhaps this too is the decree of that power whose will determines our actions.”