And what happened to Blume Nacht? What happened to Blume is a book in itself. Heaven knows when we shall write it. But now let us return to our subject.
A thousand times we have said: Let us return to our subject — but we have not returned. In the meantime, we have diverted our attention from ourselves, and we do not know which are our affairs and which are not. We started with a traveler and the key of the Beit Midrash, but we have left the traveler and the Beit Midrash and dealt with others. Let us hope for tomorrow, when Schutzling will be on his way and we shall go in and study a page of Gemara, and if the Almighty helps us we shall study it with the Commentaries.
Chapter five and fifty. The Face of the World
After saying my prayers at daybreak, I went into the dining room. When Krolka saw that I was up, she hurried and brought my breakfast. I thanked the Almighty for waking me at sunrise so that I could go early to the Beit Midrash after all the distractions that had kept me away so long from the Torah.
Schutzling came in and said goodbye to me. Actually, he had attended to his farewells yesterday, but his affection prompted him to repeat them on his departure.
All Schutzling’s merchandise and belongings were wrapped up in an old newspaper and tied around with string, knotted and reknotted. He had not been doing much business, and the drugs he showed his customers did not take up much room. Perhaps there was even some advantage in such a bundle, for it could not be quickly opened or quickly tied; and while all that was going on, the customer would get tired and buy against his will.
I went out with Schutzling, he heading for the railway station and I for the Beit Midrash. When we reached the parting of our ways I walked on with him a few steps. These few steps led to more, and these, in turn, to even more. In this way — to cut a long story short — we reached the railway station, and there I waited with him for the train.
Old Rubberovitch came out and bowed to me; but he smiled at Schutzling and Schutzling smiled at him, for once Schutzling had come to Szibucz with a fellow agent, both of them with travel tickets for the entire year. The inspector came to examine the tickets, but they had exchanged tickets with each other. The inspector took Schutzling’s ticket and found someone else’s picture on it, so he put it away in his pocket and threatened to hand him over to Rubberovitch. Next, he took his colleague’s ticket and saw that it also belonged to someone else, for there was another man’s picture on it. So he put it away in his pocket and threatened him, as he had done to Schutzling. When they reached Szibucz he brought them before Rubberovitch and handed over the tickets. Rubberovitch looked at the pictures and their owners and did not know what the inspector wanted. Then they told him the whole story and all three of them laughed together.
When the train came, Schutzling got into the compartment and took his leave of me. But even this was not the final parting: before the train moved off he jumped down and said, “Why should I hurry? The train leaves twice a day, but you don’t find a good friend every day.”
I felt I could not leave him and go away, and even if I had left him he would not have left me. So off we both went together and returned to all the places where we had been on the Sabbath and went back over all the things we had already said — and perhaps we added a little, or perhaps we added nothing — until the time came for lunch. “Now,” said I to Schutzling, “let us go to the hotel for dinner.” “What are you thinking of, my dear sir?” said Schutzling. “Grandma will be furious if she finds out that I did not leave and went to the hotel with you. Let us go to her house and leave my baggage, and then we’ll stroll all day and all night.”
So I went with him to his sister, whom Schutzling called Grandma. This Grandma — her name was Genendel — was a tall, lean old woman about seventy years old and more, censorious and pernickety. She behaved to Schutzling not like a sister but like a mother, because she had nursed him and brought him up; for his mother (this was Genendel’s father’s third wife) pampered herself like an old man’s darling and never had time to nurse her son; but Genendel happened to give birth to a son at the same time, and so she took Schutzling, too, to herself. In fact, she and her stepmother had even mistakenly exchanged babies once. And when Schutzling’s mother had a second child, Genendel also took him as her own son, and he even used to call her Mother, until he reached his years of understanding and knew his mother. Then he called his sister Grandma; to call her Sister was impossible, for a sister is usually younger than the mother, and to call her Mother was impossible, because he had a mother — so he called her Grandma.
The old woman received her younger brother with great affection, and she was affectionate to me too: first, because I was his friend, and second, because of her affection for my family, although she did not approve of me. Even in my childhood she had prophesied that I would end up with nothing, for my mother used to give me money to buy rolls and I would go and buy books. And here the old woman raised her eyebrows, looked at me, and said, “Tell me, my friend, were these books better than Father’s rolls? I doubt if they made you any cleverer. From all they say about you in the town, it’s hard to see your cleverness. And it seems to me that even the Land of Israel didn’t make you much wiser. Or perhaps I am wrong; by your clothes you seem to be a rich man. But I will tell you, my friend, I have seen rich men whose clothes were tattered and poor men whose clothes were fine. Now, tell me, what do they give you to eat in the hotel, real food or pages from old books? Your hostess — God forgive me for saying it — is no doubt a cheat like her father, who cheated a poor student and said he would make him a doctor, but what did he make of him? — a husband for his daughter. On the other hand, that Christian woman — what’s her name? — Krolka, is a good Jewess for a Christian. Remind me, Aaron, and I will tell her to look after him. Not for his merits, but for the merits of his pious mother, peace be upon her. How many years have passed since she died and went to her eternal rest? Oh, my friend, the years have fled as if the devil had snatched them. And now, my friend, sit down and don’t delay me, and I will go and prepare your lunch.”