Indeed, Ben Attar, and even his young companion, began to feel that not only the traders standing at their stalls but even the people walking along the riverbank were constantly exchanging rapid remarks, and occasionally even uttering a word or two in the direction of the two strangers, as though the mere fact of speaking in such a musical language was a source of pleasure and blessing and whoever said nothing was the poorer for it. But since the two southerners had no words with which to reply and an ungarnished smile was no longer sufficient, they kept their heads bowed and began to look down at the rounded cobbles, upon which the feet of men and women, bound in curious leather leggings, pranced lithely, so as not to tread in the horse, swine, and dog droppings scattered everywhere. So intent were their eyes on the legs all around them that the rabbi’s son fancied he found among them those of his father, who had remained on board the ship—that is to say, his manner of walking—and stirred by this discovery, the boy tugged on Ben Attar’s robe, and in his soft Andalusian Arabic he whispered excitedly, Sir, the man walking in front of us could well be a Jew.
Surprisingly, Ben Attar was attracted by the boy’s idea, not because of the man’s gait but because of the hat that was pulled down on his head. Without further reflection he turned to follow the man, who, if he really was a Jew, might be expected not to turn into one of the taverns whose dim lights flickered around them, but would head for his home, which would certainly be found in a street in which other Jews lived, and so, unsuspected, they might arrive at the Levitas house, where Abulafia resided, for it was not possible that Jews who maintained their faith did not live close to other Jews. Even if it emerged that the man walking in front of them was not a Jew, to judge by the gentleness of his step there was no doubt that he was a kindly person, who would not object to serving unwittingly as a guide.
But a guide to what place? At first their Jew followed the river, which now revealed to them the walls of the large island, resembling for an instant a gigantic illuminated ship sailing along beside them. Even though the majority of the people went down the steps that led to a ferry that would convey them to the island, their Jew chose instead to continue on his way along the riverbank, until they reached a dark spot where the water almost licked at the earth, and there was a modest bridge of planks, half of it floating in the air and the rest immersed in the water. Their anonymous guide led them straight into the heart of the island crowded with houses and winding lanes and full of dark-uniformed guards, who were playing dice at the corners of the lanes and jabbering ceaselessly in their beloved language. From basement windows rose smells of dinner cooking, as though it were not so much the heart of the city that they had reached as its belly. The child, who had eaten nothing since midday, hesitantly turned his steps aside until, half afraid and half hopeful, he halted in front of a portly Parisian who was engaged in dissecting a whole roast piglet into fine pink slices.
When Ben Attar saw that the fragrant morsels of suckling pig failed to distract their chosen guide and that on the contrary he hastened his steps and lowered his eyes, muttering something as he did so, he was confirmed in his view that the boy had guessed right and this really was a Jew. So he continued to dog the man’s footsteps when he turned into a long dark alley, which led them through a small opening in the wall of the island to another bridge, no less dilapidated than the first, which took them to the southern bank. Even though it seemed more desolate than the northern bank, it had something gay and liberated about it, at least to judge by the merry, casually dressed young people who sat in the square by a fountain that ran into a stone basin adorned with torches, listening to a musician who was playing a small harp and bestowing friendly glances on Ben Attar and the boy, who were tailing their Jew. No longer able to ignore the pair following him, this man halted in a dark alleyway beside a large stone that projected from one of the houses and considered whether to say something, but he merely looked straight at them out of the darkness.
Abulafia? Ben Attar pleadingly whispered the name of the man who for more than a year had steeped his soul in sadness. A relieved smile flitted across the Jew’s face as he realized that there had been a purpose in his being pressed into service as a guide. Raising his arm, he gestured firmly toward the largest dwelling in this small alley, and without saying a word he opened a wicket hidden behind the stone and vanished inside.
Ben Attar was immediately alert. The presence nearby of Abulafia and his new wife had pricked all his senses. But then he admonished himself, for a hasty, unconsidered entrance at this evening hour was liable to confound his hopes of paying a formal visit with his two wives to the home of this woman who found him so repugnant. Accordingly, instead of making for the front door, he lingered and even retreated somewhat, inspecting the new home that his nephew and business partner was inhabiting and considering the best way to draw him out of it. But the windows of this house were small and out of reach, as though they belonged to a fortress rather than a dwelling. Little Elbaz, his impudence aggravated by the hunger that had been haunting him since the afternoon, offered the fruit of his great experience, and boldly laying hold of the heavy, dark wall with his skinny hands, he located hidden projections that enabled him to raise himself to one of the windowsills. For a long while he stayed there, hanging in silence, unable to break free of the attraction of the view afforded to anyone who happens to peep into someone else’s house. Meanwhile, Ben Attar, careful to make no sound, was stealthily pacing around the rear courtyard, attracted by familiar smells, and eventually recognized among the logs and broken cartwheels some of the sacks and brassware and skins that had been sold to Benveniste at half-price on the last ill-fated trip to Barcelona.
By now jealousy had rekindled his pain and longing. Unable to restrain himself, he called in a firm whisper to the boy to come down and tell him what he had seen. It transpired that the boy’s eyes had been transfixed by those of a girl about his own age, who had stared at him without uttering a word. In that case I have reached my goal, Ben Attar thought excitedly, and concealing his face with his scarf and placing the boy in front of him, he knocked on the door, which was very soon opened by an old servant woman with a kindly expression. While she was wondering whether she ought to be alarmed at the shrouded figure standing before her, the boy, who had learned his part well, bowed deeply and gracefully, and with a gentleness that would dispel any unseemly fear pronounced the name that had floated soundlessly before the advancing prow of the ship for the past eight weeks.
Although only two years had passed since the partners’ last meeting, Ben Attar had prepared himself to find Abulafia changed. Even so, he was surprised at the appearance of the man who came toward them. This was not because of his long hair or the pallor and gauntness of his face, but because of a new expression, a kind of inner, spiritual, somewhat artificial smile, as if he were forever attempting to understand the secret of the world yet did not believe that it was possible to do so. Had the new wife really managed to exchange the memory of pain over the drowned wife for a spiritual smile? The nephew’s eyes had not yet noticed his uncle, who had withdrawn into the shadow of the doorway, but they were drawn toward the boy, who had begun to prattle to the master of the house in Arabic, so stirring Abulafia with emotion that he could not refrain from touching the child to make sure it was not a dream standing on the threshold of his house. Then Ben Attar lowered his scarf, enjoying not so much the astonishment but the pain that suffused his nephew’s beautiful face as he closed his eyes as though he were about to faint.