Blooms of Darkness by Jeffrey M. Green, Aharon Appelfeld Page A

themselves as to who could provide the most splendid meals and at whose party they served the fullest plates. His former wife embodied them fully. Uncle Sigmund constantly wondered how he could have been caught in that net. He said repeatedly, “In the world to come, if there is such a thing, they’ll thrash me because I was blind and didn’t see what any sensible person can see. I deserve it. I deserve it.”
    The music and debauched laughter last until late at night and then suddenly fall silent, as though the dancers have collapsed.
    In the last darkness of the night, Mariana’s door is opened, and then the closet door. Victoria stands in the doorway and immediately tells Hugo, “You’re lucky. All around us they madecareful night searches. Apparently because of the big party that was here, they didn’t come in, but who knows?”
    “What am I supposed to do?” Hugo asks with a trembling voice.
    “Pray.”
    “I don’t know how to pray.”
    “Didn’t your parents teach you?”
    “No.”
    “That’s strange. You didn’t go to synagogue?”
    “No.”
    “Every hour, say, ‘God Lord, save me from death.’ ”
    “Should I kiss the cross?” Hugo asks.
    “That’s desirable. In a little while I’ll bring you a cup of milk and some sandwiches. But don’t expect me later today. The soldiers are going from house to house and looking for Jews, and it’s not a good idea to wander around here. Do you understand me?”
    “I understand. Thank you.”
    “Don’t thank me, pray to God,” Victoria says, and shuts the closet door.

23
    The next morning Victoria again comes late with the cup of milk, and she tell Hugo that searches are still going on in the nearby houses. In one house they found a Jewish family with three children. They arrested the family and the owners of the house who gave them shelter, and all of them were taken to the police station.
    Seriousness has clouded Victoria’s eyes, and it’s evident that she has more news, but she keeps it to herself.
    “What should I do?”
    “I’ve already told you, pray.”
    “And if they discover me?”
    “You’ll stand up and say you’re Mariana’s son.”
    Not noticing what he’s doing, Hugo reaches for the knapsack and removes the Bible from it. In the middle of the book lies an envelope. He quickly opens it and reads:
Dear Hugo ,
I don’t know when and in what circumstances this letter will find you. I imagine that you’re not having an easy time. I want you to know that I had no choice. The peasants who promised to come, didn’t come, and danger was lurking in every corner. It was not with light thoughts that I decided to place you in the hands of my childhood friend Mariana. She is a good woman, but life has not been kind to her. She is prone to moods, and you have to be considerate of her. If she’s bitter or angry, don’t be annoyed with her and don’t answer anything. Restraint is always desirable. Moods have a way of passing. Also, suffering has a limit, and in the end, we’ll be together again. I think about you all the time. I hope that you have something to eat and that your sleep isn’t disturbed. As for me, I don’t know where I’ll end up. If only I can, I’ll visit you, but don’t expect me. I’m with you all the time, day and night, and if it’s hard for you, think about Papa and me. Your thoughts will join us together. You aren’t alone in the world, dear. Grandpa used to say that parting is an illusion. Thoughts join us even when we are far from one another. Recently I’ve felt that Grandpa is with us, too. He passed away two years before the war. You remember him .
I’m writing these lines about three hours before our departure. For a moment it seemed to me that I didn’t equip you with enough instructions. Now I see that in fact we’ve discussed everything. I imagine that adaptation isn’t easy for you. I have one request of you: don’t despair. Despair is surrender. I believed and still believe in optimism