Once again, I will say what I already said. Imagine this: Manfred Herbst enters a bookstore, finds a picture of a leper, hears references to a leper colony, suddenly remembers what he heard from Shira. Could such a chain of events fail to have an impact? Henceforth, Herbst was haunted by these concerns. Although he didn’t put them into words, they remained fixed in his mind, so that, when he woke up knowing he hadn’t dreamed about lepers, he felt that they had done him a favor.
One Shabbat morning, Herbst went out for a walk. It was one of those delightful Jerusalem mornings, with a lull between rains. Since the day was so delightful, the roads were a delight, his heart was filled with delight, and all his thoughts were delightful too. He wasn’t thinking of Shira or of anything else that might confound him. He was seeing every tree, every rock that was there, all basking in the sweet Shabbat morning sunshine. Since he wanted to enjoy these pleasures fully, he turned toward the less frequented spots, where he found himself alone, like in the old days, when he had just come to the country. He kneeled down to collect some of the colored pebbles that were scattered along the road. Now that most areas have been built up, these delightful pebbles have all but disappeared. But, in those days, they were everywhere. If you were clever, you could collect them and make yourself a floor, which probably would not be a source of delight, because mosaic design was already a forgotten art. It’s a fact that the territory he was walking in that day was right next to the leper colony. I don’t know if Herbst realized this, but, even if he did, he would not have been upset. Because on that particular day he was utterly composed and untroubled.
He returned from his walk refreshed and happy. Henrietta was seated in her chair, all bundled up. Herbst looked at her, at her bloated face, at her belly, and said, “I’m hungry, Mother, hungry as a dozen wolves. I could eat you up, along with the baby that’s inside you.” Henrietta smiled and said, “I’ll set the table right away, and we can have lunch. Please, dear, don’t eat anything now, so you’re sure to be hungry when you come to the table.” Henrietta got up and went to the kitchen. Manfred went to the icebox, which had no ice in it because summer was over, took out the table wine, and poured some into a glass. The cool drink revived him. Meanwhile, little Sarah appeared, with the pipe Henrietta had given him for his birthday dangling from her mouth. That child is so adorable, she makes such delightful noises holding the pipe in her mouth and pretending to smoke it. “Mother, Mother,” Manfred shouted. “Come and have a look.” Now that she realized she was doing something special, the child continued to perform. Manfred lifted her up, sat down, and placed her on his lap, contemplating the small pleasures a man can enjoy in his own home, reflecting on the cleverness of Sarah, and of Zahara and Tamara when they were small. Now that they were both grown, distant and remote from him, though they caused him no pain, they didn’t add to his pleasure. But he expected pleasure from the child Henrietta was about to produce. The fact is, before Sarah was born, it didn’t occur to him that she would give him pleasure. But, now that he took pleasure in her, he was also pleased about the baby Henrietta was going to present him with very soon. What should we name the child? If it’s a girl, we won’t call her Atara. A three-way rhyme, Zahara-Tamara-Sarah, is quite enough.
While they were waiting, Manfred took Henrietta’s hand and said, “Now, Mother, it’s time you gave us a boy. Do you hear, Mother? I want a boy.” Henrietta was quiet. Then she said, “I’ll try.” Manfred said, “Do you know something, Mother? I have a nice name for a boy.” “What is it?” “Shlomo Yehuda.” Henrietta said, “The name Shlomo is enough for me. Was your father’s name Shlomo Yehuda?” Manfred said, “My father didn’t have a Hebrew name.” Henrietta said, “Then why is your heart set on Shlomo Yehuda?” Manfred said, “Let me tell you. The very first modern Jewish scholar was named Shlomo Yehuda Rappaport, the Shlomo Yehuda Rappaport who is known by the acronym Shir.” Henrietta said, “Why do you suddenly look so downcast?” “Downcast? I didn’t notice. Hand me the mirror,” he said, pretending to joke. Manfred was immersed in thought. To keep his wife from noticing, he got up from the chair and said, “It was a mistake to drink wine, especially when I was overheated from my walk.” Henrietta said, “Don’t worry, Manfred. A healthy man like you can allow himself a glass of wine. In any case, don’t have any more today.” Manfred said, “Unless you give it to me, I won’t have any more.” He suddenly looked up at his wife and addressed her with affection, “Just say the word, and I’ll abstain until the brit.” Henrietta said, “You’re certain it will be a boy?” Manfred said, “You must admit, we’ve had more than enough of this Weiblichkeit [femininity]. You yourself, Mother, and Zahara and Tamara and Sarah, as well as Zahara’s daughter Arlozora. I am amazed that no one suspects Arlozoroff was killed by Germans. It’s logical that he would have been killed by Germans.”