In the realm of thought, this is how Herbst functions. He takes on a subject, considers it from various angles, moves on to another subject, and finally goes back to the beginning. Now that he had lost the desire to deal with his papers, he pondered his book, which was not being written. He thought about the delays and obstacles, about Zahara, who was living in the country, and about Henrietta. In the end, his mind was on himself again. He pictured himself leaving the city, leaving his home, going to a place where he was unknown, with no one to distract him from the work he was about to undertake. For he meant to do something new. He meant to write a play about Antonia, a woman of the court, and Yohanan, a nobleman in the capital. Several days earlier, he had intended to engage in research, as usual, but it had suddenly occurred to him that this was beyond what the researcher could handle, that the material itself yearned to fall into hands other than a researcher’s.
Despite their weight and value, the data peered at him with eyes that were crafty, shrewd, and clever; resistant, hesitant, fearful. If they had had words, they would have said roughly this: What do you gain by making an article out of us? Another article and yet another. You’ve already produced enough articles. He watched, listened, understood. Suddenly his heart felt pinched with painful sweetness, the kind a poet feels when he comes upon something that asks to be put in a poem. Dr. Manfred Herbst was resolved to write a play about the woman of the court and Yohanan the nobleman. Henceforth, nothing was as dear to Dr. Herbst as this play. If not for Shira, the project would have dominated his heart, and he would have written the play.
Thus far, his work had been nourished by what others provided, data from documents and the like. Now he would be nourished by his own spirit and creative imagination. Needless to say, he would no longer have to refer to books or copy notes to store in a box. He would no longer need to amass references and would have no use for scholarly apparatus. He barely managed to repress his sense of superiority, for he already viewed his academic friends as exploiters who eat fruit planted by others.
Herbst envisioned himself sitting and writing the play. Scene after scene unfolds, and the leading characters — Antonia, a woman of the court, and Yohanan, a nobleman — are engaged in conversation, which he overhears and records on paper.
It took a while for Herbst to be persuaded to write the play. I’m not a playwright, he thought. That’s not my profession, he told himself. At the same time, he was aching to try his hand at it. Aware that most people, unless they are poets, fail in this sort of endeavor — that, when they try to tell a love story, they become sentimental — Herbst was discouraged. But he was determined to write the play. And what would become of his notes? They would help him make the play authentic. So far, all he had was the story as conveyed by the writers of the time, but he was counting on precedent. Anyone who devotes himself totally to a task will not come away empty-handed.
Meanwhile, he investigated a pile of documents and discovered things no one else had noticed that were relevant to the story of Antonia, the woman of the court, and the nobleman Yohanan. He was thrilled with these discoveries and tested his imagination to see what it would add. But imagination doesn’t always respond, not to everyone and not on demand. Never before had the material refused to comply. Whenever he put his mind to it, a research paper would take shape, seeming to order itself, the pieces falling into place so that there was a beginning, a middle, and an end — all in language suited to the subject, without academic jargon, to which even renowned scholars are not immune.
Herbst went to the window and stared at the trees. They were blooming, as usual, as if of themselves. Actually, one should not forget that Henrietta had a hand in this, and, in fact, so did he; they both tended the trees, hoed, and watered regularly. Neither he nor Henrietta had worked the land in their youth, but the soil was there, so they made a garden. Though no parable is intended, this reflected Herbst’s feelings toward the play. But another feeling, about old age, insinuated itself. Was it old age that drained his energies and disheartened him? So this was why he hadn’t hurried back to Shira after that first night, and, because he hadn’t hurried back, Shira withholds herself from him now.
Turning away from the window and from the trees, he began pacing back and forth. Finally, he stood still, leaned over to press a cigarette into the ashtray, and either took another one or put the one he had just discarded back in his mouth. Then he took out the atlas in order to research the locale of his play. Atlas in hand, he cried out in amazement, “Tamara is in Greece. What does she know about Greece? I doubt she knows as much as the lowest-level student in a German high school. What do they teach here anyway? Who was it who described Apollo arrayed in tefillin? As an ideal, it’s defective; as a joke, it’s equally defective.”
Now, Herbst thought, I’ll try one of the cigarettes Julian Weltfremdt recommended. He leaned over and pressed the remnants of a cigarette into the ashtray, took out a long brown one, and smoked it slowly to assess its flavor. Now, Herbst said to himself, now I’ll look at the map and trace Tamara’s route. He got up, opened the door, and called out, “Henriett, Henriett, do you want to see where your daughter is?”
Henrietta came, parting the clouds of smoke with her hand, went to open the window, and found it open. She laughed in annoyance and said, “Unless your cigarettes induce amnesia, I don’t know why I forget the windows are all open.” Herbst laughed and said, “They don’t induce amnesia, but they do have a trace of mandrake.” Henrietta said, “You were going to show me where Tamara is now. Is there another card from her? I didn’t see the mailman today.” Manfred said, “The mailman wasn’t here, and there are no new cards. We can nonetheless look at the map and see her route.” Henrietta said, “What a good idea.” Manfred said, “But I doubt she is enjoying the trip.” Henrietta said, “Why not?” Manfred said, “Because she wasn’t prepared. She knows less than nothing about Greece. She hasn’t read Homer and doesn’t know Plato. She knows nothing at all about that civilization. Tell me, Henriett, how did Tamara qualify for a teaching certificate?” Henrietta said, “She’s as qualified as her friends.” Manfred said, “I’m not asking only about her; I’m asking about her friends too, and even her teachers. How are they qualified to be teachers?” Henrietta said, “You don’t mean to say they became teachers by pulling strings?” Manfred said, “I wouldn’t say that, but I judge teachers by their pupils.” “What do you learn?” Manfred laughed and said, “I learn, my dear, that they have all learned nothing.” “Nothing?” Manfred said, “Anyway, they didn’t learn what they should have learned. How many poems did you know by heart when you were Tamara’s age? If we were to be exiled somewhere, with no books, I would be content with the poems you remember from your youth. But our Tamara — except for the insipid jingles she sings — probably doesn’t know one entire poem.” Henrietta said, “It’s not her fault.” “If it’s not her fault, whose is it?” Henrietta said, “It may be Hebrew poetry that’s at fault for not lending itself to song.” Manfred said, “You have an excuse for everything, only the excuse is more radical than the problem. Now let’s spread the map and see what places Tamara has graced with the light of her eyes. First let me get a cigarette.” Henrietta said, “And I was going to ask you not to smoke for a while.” Manfred said, “You’re asking the impossible, but is there anything in the world I’m unwilling to give up for you? You’re asking me not to smoke for a while. That’s fine. But first let me have two or three puffs. This is a new brand. Weltfremdt recommended it.” Henrietta said, “Does Weltfremdt smoke?” Manfred said, “If you mean that secret adviser, Professor Ernst Weltfremdt, he doesn’t smoke. No, he doesn’t. But if you mean Dr. Julian Weltfremdt, I can tell you beyond doubt, beyond any doubt, that the gentleman certainly smokes. Yes, indeed, that gentleman certainly does smoke.” Henrietta laughed and said, “If I hadn’t seen your lips moving, I would be sure Professor Weltfremdt himself was talking.” Manfred said, “See, my dear, what close friendship achieves. Sometimes the mere mention of a fine gentleman such as Professor Weltfremdt causes us — indeed, it causes us — to adopt his rhetoric, his very own rhetoric.” Henrietta said, “You admit that you meant to imitate his speech.” Manfred said, “Intentionally or not, either way I succeeded. Isn’t that so, Henriett?” Henrietta said, “Besserman couldn’t do any better. Now let’s sit down and trace Tamara’s route.” After outlining Tamara’s entire route with his finger, Manfred said, “Now I’ll give you the Baedeker, and you can read about all those places.”