The Family Moskat (8 page)

Nyunie kicked back and forth, his small feet in well-polished slippers. Abram set him down on the floor, as though he were a dummy, and boomed out his thunderous laughter.

"Greetings, my friend, my brother-in-law!" he shouted. "Give me five!" He held out his hand.

-41-"Lunatic!

Madman!" Nyunie gasped. "Who is this young man?"

"What's going on here? What's everybody shouting for? Abram, stop carrying on!" Dacha had finished her telephone conversation and put down the instrument. "Who is this young man?" she continued, and held out her tapering fingers.

"It's a long story. Here, I'll begin it from the beginning. He's a prodigy, a genius, a mathematician, a sage, a jack-of-all-trades.

He's one of those kind who are dumb as a fish today, but tomorrow they'll be standing in the University of Brussels, pro-claiming that we Jews are a religion, not a nation, and that the
Ostjuden
stink up the atmosphere."

"The man's gone crazy. What are you getting the young man all confused for? Pay no attention to him; he's just baaing like a goat.

Where are you from, young man?"

"Tereshpol Minor."

"Teresh--what?"

"Tereshpol Minor."

"Where on earth is that? What a queer name!"

"Near Zamosc."

"Dear God preserve us! So many strange towns! Is it true that you're a mathematician?"

"I studied a little."

"You're modest and he brags. Well, whatever it is, you stay here for dinner. Here, meet our guests. This is my father-in-law's wife, Rosa Frumetl, and this is her daughter--what's your name, my dear?--oh, yes, Adele."

"May I ask where you studied mathematics?" Adele asked in a precise and elegant tone.

Asa Heshel flushed. "I studied by myself," he stammered.

"From books."

"Elementary mathematics--or higher mathematics?"

"I really don't know."

"Well, analytical geometry, for example, or differential calculus."

"Oh, nol I'm not as far advanced as that."

"Well, I went as far as that, but I don't count myself a mathematician."

"Oh, I don't make such claims."

"Adele, why do you cross-examine the man?" Rosa Frumetl broke in. "If they say he's a mathematician, then he's a mathematician."

-42-"That's the

style these days. Every yeshivah student is a Newton."

"It isn't the style--it's the truth," Abram boomed. "In our poor seminaries there are more geniuses than in all their universities put together."

"Oh, I've been to Switzerland and I've seen all these geniuses of yours. They lack elementary education."

"Adele, my darling, what are you saying? Everybody knows that the study of the Torah sharpens the mind," Rosa Frumetl interrupted; she seemed to be constantly on the watch, ready to curb her daughter's sharp tongue.

"That's a lot of nonsense! I studied the Torah myself--and when it comes to anything important I've got a head like a barrel," Nyunie remarked.

"You always had a head like a barrel," Dacha said.

"Quarreling already!" Abram shouted. "Whenever I have a squabble with my Hama it's a signal for the rest of the family to go at it. The young man's got terrific recommendations--he's a philosopher into the bargain. Show them the letter!"

"Pleasel I'm not a philosopher."

"The letter from Zamosc says you are."

"I'm only a student, I have some ideas."

"Ideas! The whole world's busy with ideas," Dacha put in with a sigh. "My Hadassah--every day she's writing down her ideas. In my time nobody bothered with ideas and we lived just the same."

"I'm getting hungry. Why are we waiting with dinner?"

Nyunie asked impatiently. He had a reputation as the family glutton. Besides, he hadn't taken a fancy to this pretentious new stepmother whom Dacha had invited, or this newly acquired and irritating stepsister, or this green youth whom Abram had brought along. He was afraid that because of them he would not be able to stretch out on the sofa for a nap after his meal. His nerve-ridden wife, the typical daughter of a rabbinical house, who had to take pills to give her an appetite as well as to settle her stomach afterwards, darted an angry glance at him.

"Hadassah is not here yet."

"Where's she running around? We can eat without her."

"No, well wait," Dacha ruled. "When he reminds himself of food, your life's in danger!"

There was a ring of the outer doorbell. "It's Hadassah,"

-43-Nyunie

exclaimed, and started to run toward the door on his short legs.

Dacha sat down on her cushioned chair, pulled out of her sleeve a monogrammed handkerchief, and held it up to her long nose.

"Abram," she said, "come here. Tell me where you found this young man."

"I found him and he's here; that's all there is to it. Don't be embarrassed, young man. Their Newtons don't scare us. Any one of our sages can tuck them under his belt. Just let us be a nation in our own land and well show what we can do. Ah, the geniuses'll tumble out of their mothers' bellies six at a time--like in Egypt. Our Jewish genius'll flood the world, damn their filthy belly-buttons--or my name isn't Abram Shapiro!"

"Woe is me, he's off again," Dacha moaned in a singsong. "Come here, young man; sit down, near me. My brother-in-law is a bit mixed up, but he's really all right. We all love him."

Asa Heshel sat down in the chair she indicated. Rosa Frumetl took a sip of her cherry brandy and a delicate bite from the almond cake she held. Adele started to say something, but at that moment the door opened and Nyunie came in with his daughter.

NYUNIE, holding Hadassah by the arm, was a good head shorter than his daughter. Hadassah appeared to be about eighteen, tall and slender, with blond hair coiled in braids. Her face was pale, her nose slightly snub, the throat long, the forehead high and with a bluish tint at the temples. She wore a little velvet beret, schoolgirl style, a short jacket tied with ribbons; and although the day was not too cold, she had heavy socks over her stockings. She reminded Asa Heshel of the aristocratic young ladies in the romantic novels he had read. Her light-blue eyes had an embarrassed expression as though she were not in her own -44-home but entering some strange house. Rosa Frumetl immediately began to shake her head from side to side, pursing her lips as though she were preparing to spit and ward off an evil eye. Adele eyed her from head to toe.

"This is Hadassah? May no evil befall her!" Rosa Frumetl murmured. "Beautiful!"

"Hadassah, this is your grandmother, your grandfathers' wife.

And this is her daughter, Adele."

Hadassah bent forward--something between a schoolgirl curtsy and an adult bow.

"Come here, you lovely child. Let me feast my eyes on you,"

Rosa Frumetl sang out. "Your grandfather never stops praising you.

This is my daughter, Adele. You may talk Polish with her; she doesn't speak Russian--we're from Galicia."

"They told me about you," Hadassah said to Adele in Polish.

"You're from Krakow, I think."

"I went to school there."

"Why don't you introduce her to the philosopher?" Abram bellowed. "Hadassah, my jewel, this young man is a Jewish Lomonosov."

Hadassah looked at Asa Heshel. Both of them blushed.

"
Naprawde
--is it true?" she asked; it was hard to say whether she was addressing her uncle or Asa Heshel.

"You're making fun of me," Asa Heshel stammered. He, too, might have been speaking to either of them.

"He's modest into the bargain," Abram continued in his boom-ing voice. "He wants you to give him some tutoring. His tongue twists a bit on this pagan language--but he's got the head of an Aristotle.

He studied algebra--in the attic."

"Really, in the attic?" Hadassah asked in bewilderment.

"Well, when it was mining--and there was no place--"

"It seems Mr. Shapiro likes to exaggerate," Adele put in, in her cold voice.

Nyunie broke in plaintively: "I'm dying of hunger. Why does it take so long?"

"Quiet, Nyunie, you won't starve," Dacha interrupted. "Hadassah, my pet, take off your coat. Where have you been?"

"We were walking--in the Saxon Gardens."

"Who's this 'we'?"

"You know, Mamma. Me and Klonya."

"Traveling around with a gentile girl! Ts, ts."

-45-"At least

it's better than going around with a gentile boy," Abram commented.

"Hold your tongue with those jokes of yours. Aren't there enough Jewish girls in Warsaw? This Klonya is from a common family.

That father of hers--a foreman in a bakery. And the mother's so fat she can hardly get through the door."

"Well, what difference does that make? I like her."

"I'm surprised that your mother has that point of view," Adele remarked. "Back home in Austria, Jews and gentiles live together like one family."

"I don't know how it is in Galicia, but here they're a bunch of anti-Semites. Even now there's a boycott against us. Wherever you go you hear them grunting: 'Buy from your own kind.'

They'd swallow the Jew alive if they could."

"Well, to tell the truth, when you take a look at all these Warsaw Jews, in their long gaberdines and skullcaps, it's as though you found yourself in China all of a sudden. One can see why the Poles don't want to stand for it."

"Adele, my precious! What are you saying?" Rosa Frumetl warned. "What kind of talk? Your father--may his virtue intercede for you--wore a long coat, and sidelocks, too."

"Please don't mention Papa. Papa was a European--a European in every respect."

"I see Miss Adele is in favor of assimilation," Abram commented in Polish.

"Not of assimilation--only of living together respectably and intelligently."

"And I suppose if we all put on Polish hats and twist our mustaches into points, then they'll love us," Abram rejoined, and twisted at his own mustache. "Let the young lady read the newspapers here. They squeal that the modern Jew is worse than the caftaned kind. Who do you think the Jew-haters are aiming for?

The modern Jew, that's who."

"Oh, that can't be true."

"It is true, my dear young lady. You'll soon find out."

Shifra put her head into the room. "Dinner is ready," she announced.

Nyunie immediately started to move. The others went after him. In the dining-room the large table with its heavy carved legs was set with plates, knives, forks, and spoons, the silver scratched with age and use. At the door stood a table with a -46-crock of water,

a copper dipper, and a small tin basin. The men washed their hands first. Dacha produced a skullcap, which she placed on Abram's head. He leisurely dried his hands on a linen towel and loudly recited the prescribed blessing. Asa Heshel, in his nervousness, wet his sleeves. Rosa Frumetl carefully folded back the cuffs over her scrawny wrists and poured two dippers of water over her fingers. Adele looked at Hadassah as though to say: "Do we have to go through this?" Hadassah filled a dipper with water and held it out to Adele.

"Please, you first," she said.

"I'll wet the lace." She carefully bent back the embroidered cuffs of her sleeves and poured water over her fingers with their filed nails. Hadassah followed suit. Asa Heshel noticed that her fingers were ink-stained. Nyunie took his seat in a leather-covered chair at the head of the table and cut slices from a loaf of white bread. He murmured the blessing and handed the slices around. A currant loaf and small white rolls lay in a tray at the center of the table.

Shifra brought in the appetizer--liver and tripe. Abram looked at Hadassah and lowered one eyelid. She got up, left the room, and returned with a carafe of brandy. Dacha scolded her.

"You're not doing him any favor," she said. "It'll only mean more visits to the doctor."

"Your health, Nyunie! You, young man! Your health, young ladies! May we drink at your weddings!"

"Health and peace, amen!" Rosa Frumetl murmured reverently.

The men had taken their seats first. At the right of the table sat Abram, Hadassah, and Dacha; at the left Asa Heshel, Rosa Frumetl, and Adele. There was a mist before Asa Heshel's eyes; everything seemed to be swaying--the glass-palled credenza and its porcelain dishes, the pictures on the wall, the faces of the others. He seemed to have lost his sense of hearing. The knife and fork trembled in his hand and tapped against the plate. He did not know whether to take a bite out of the slice of bread in front of him or break off a piece.

With his fork he took up a piece of sour pickle from a plate, but it seemed to disappear--and fell out of his sleeve a moment later.

When the servant placed a bowl of soup before him the rising steam completely obscured his vision.

"Hey, young man," he heard Abram's voice, "maybe you'd like a drink."

-47-Asa Heshel

wanted to say no, but his lips said yes. The women were busily talking to one another. A glass of some red-colored liquid appeared before him. He whispered: "Your health," and swallowed it at one gulp. Abram let out a howl of laughter. "That's the stuff, my boy,"

he shouted. "You'll be all right!"

"Take a bite of something," Dacha urged him. "Give him a cookie, somebody."

Hadassah left the table again and returned with some maca-roons.

In the meanwhile Asa Heshel had managed to swallow a piece of bread. Tears stood out in his eyes; he wiped them away with his fingers.

"You shouldn't have given it to him," Rosa Frumetl said accusingly. "He's delicate."

"Abram's ideas," Dacha grumbled.

"Tell me, young man," Nyunie broke in, "what do you have in mind to do in Warsaw?"

The question came unexpectedly, like all of Nyunie's remarks. The others were silent. Asa Heshel began to answer, first so softly that he could hardly be heard, and then in a stronger voice. He told them about Tereshpol Minor; about his grandfather, his mother and sister, his father, who had disappeared, and about Jekuthiel Watchmaker. His face was pale; only his ears were flushed. His eyes shifted about uncertainly, now at Dacha, now at Hadassah. His words came in bursts of disconnected phrases. Hadassah blushed. Dacha turned a bewildered gaze on him. Without knowing the reason, Rosa Frumetl felt the tears starting to her eyes.