will stay fresh, don't worry."
She went out, Abram and Asa Heshel after her. In the corridor Gina stopped and turned to them.
"I really think, Abram, that this isn't the place for him. What do you think, young man?"
"I don't know, it's interesting."
"You hear what he says? Give him a few days and he'll be more European than the rest of them. If it wasn't so late I'd take him out to the Old Market and buy him a stylish suit and a modern hat," Abram said.
"Please, Abram, I beg of you! Before you start fixing other people's lives, think it over first."
"What's there to think over? He came here to study, not to chant psalms in a prayerhouse."
Gina opened a door and turned on a light. Asa Heshel saw a small room with a metal bed, covered with a dark spread. Near by was a table and on it a book, some vials, powder boxes, powder puffs, a glass with a toothbrush stuck in it, and a photograph of a young man with the face of a butcher and the epaulets of a student. A few dresses hung in a corner. The room was cool and quiet.
"This is it," Gina said. "How do you like it, young man?"
"Oh, very much."
"By the way, how are you feeling, Gina darling?" Abram asked suddenly. "You look wonderful. A princess!"
"It's only because I'm dressed up. Not because I've got anything to be particularly joyful about."
"What's the news from Akiba? What's he dragging the divorce out for?"
"God knows. It gets worse from day to day. When he's ready, his father decides to raise some objection; and when the rabbi finally agrees, that grandmother of his butts in. They're at him from all sides, and me they call the worst names you can think of. God knows, I must be made of iron to survive it. And my dear father has been kind enough to tell me that he's disowning me--that I'm no longer a daughter of his."
"A fat lot you should care."
"Yes, but it oppresses me, Abram. I knew beforehand it would be nothing but war. But it's all of them against poor me. Every--63-body throws mud at me. And on top of all that there's something else--but maybe I'd better not talk about it."
"What is it? What do you mean?"
"You'll only call me crazy."
"Come on, speak up! What do you mean?"
"I'm afraid that Hertz is getting tired of the whole business. He's a wonderful person, big-hearted, a scholar. But, between us, he's weak. All those experiments of his don't please me one bit. That woman--the medium--what's her name? Kalischer. She's nothing but an ordinary crook. She's got contact with spirits the way I'm Rasputin's mistress. All of Warsaw's laughing at him."
"Let them laugh. He's a great man."
"Just the same, I get more melancholy from day to day. I sit among those sardonic people in there and my head spins. I've got only one prayer to God--at least to spare me from going in-sane. . . . But what's the good of talking! Forgive me, young man."
She turned to Asa Heshel. "Where is your hotel?"
"On the Franciskaner."
"If it's not comfortable for you over there, bring your things here. One way or another we'll manage."
"Are you staying on?" Asa Heshel asked Abram.
"No. I've still got to go to Praga tonight. But don't worry; I'll see you. I'll invite you to my house. You'd better hurry for your luggage."
Asa Heshel left. Outside the snow had begun to fall again, slowly and steadily, in big flakes. He put up his collar. The day seemed to him to have lasted an eternity. Words and phrases he had heard echoed and re-echoed in his ears. He hurried along the street, now and then breaking into a run. Something strange, secret, and Cabalistic seemed to pervade the atmosphere from the still red-tinted sky, from the snow-covered roofs, balconies, and doorsteps.
The gas flames in the street lamps quivered and cast flickering lights. Shadows fled across the snow. Every once in a while the quiet was broken by a shout or an explosion, as though someone had shot a gun in the night. He suddenly remembered that this morning he had known not a single soul in Warsaw; now, only
She went out, Abram and Asa Heshel after her. In the corridor Gina stopped and turned to them.
"I really think, Abram, that this isn't the place for him. What do you think, young man?"
"I don't know, it's interesting."
"You hear what he says? Give him a few days and he'll be more European than the rest of them. If it wasn't so late I'd take him out to the Old Market and buy him a stylish suit and a modern hat," Abram said.
"Please, Abram, I beg of you! Before you start fixing other people's lives, think it over first."
"What's there to think over? He came here to study, not to chant psalms in a prayerhouse."
Gina opened a door and turned on a light. Asa Heshel saw a small room with a metal bed, covered with a dark spread. Near by was a table and on it a book, some vials, powder boxes, powder puffs, a glass with a toothbrush stuck in it, and a photograph of a young man with the face of a butcher and the epaulets of a student. A few dresses hung in a corner. The room was cool and quiet.
"This is it," Gina said. "How do you like it, young man?"
"Oh, very much."
"By the way, how are you feeling, Gina darling?" Abram asked suddenly. "You look wonderful. A princess!"
"It's only because I'm dressed up. Not because I've got anything to be particularly joyful about."
"What's the news from Akiba? What's he dragging the divorce out for?"
"God knows. It gets worse from day to day. When he's ready, his father decides to raise some objection; and when the rabbi finally agrees, that grandmother of his butts in. They're at him from all sides, and me they call the worst names you can think of. God knows, I must be made of iron to survive it. And my dear father has been kind enough to tell me that he's disowning me--that I'm no longer a daughter of his."
"A fat lot you should care."
"Yes, but it oppresses me, Abram. I knew beforehand it would be nothing but war. But it's all of them against poor me. Every--63-body throws mud at me. And on top of all that there's something else--but maybe I'd better not talk about it."
"What is it? What do you mean?"
"You'll only call me crazy."
"Come on, speak up! What do you mean?"
"I'm afraid that Hertz is getting tired of the whole business. He's a wonderful person, big-hearted, a scholar. But, between us, he's weak. All those experiments of his don't please me one bit. That woman--the medium--what's her name? Kalischer. She's nothing but an ordinary crook. She's got contact with spirits the way I'm Rasputin's mistress. All of Warsaw's laughing at him."
"Let them laugh. He's a great man."
"Just the same, I get more melancholy from day to day. I sit among those sardonic people in there and my head spins. I've got only one prayer to God--at least to spare me from going in-sane. . . . But what's the good of talking! Forgive me, young man."
She turned to Asa Heshel. "Where is your hotel?"
"On the Franciskaner."
"If it's not comfortable for you over there, bring your things here. One way or another we'll manage."
"Are you staying on?" Asa Heshel asked Abram.
"No. I've still got to go to Praga tonight. But don't worry; I'll see you. I'll invite you to my house. You'd better hurry for your luggage."
Asa Heshel left. Outside the snow had begun to fall again, slowly and steadily, in big flakes. He put up his collar. The day seemed to him to have lasted an eternity. Words and phrases he had heard echoed and re-echoed in his ears. He hurried along the street, now and then breaking into a run. Something strange, secret, and Cabalistic seemed to pervade the atmosphere from the still red-tinted sky, from the snow-covered roofs, balconies, and doorsteps.
The gas flames in the street lamps quivered and cast flickering lights. Shadows fled across the snow. Every once in a while the quiet was broken by a shout or an explosion, as though someone had shot a gun in the night. He suddenly remembered that this morning he had known not a single soul in Warsaw; now, only
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