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Our visit to Silwani Villa was not like Lenin visiting the workers or like Tolstoy among the simple folk: it was a special occasion. In the eyes of our more respectable and enlightened Arab neighbors, who adopted a more Western European culture most of the time, Uncle Staszek explained, we modern Jews were mistakenly portrayed as a sort of rowdy rabble of rough paupers, lacking manners and not yet fit to stand on the lowest rung of cultural refinement. Even some of our leaders were apparently portrayed in a negative light among our Arab neighbors, because they dressed in a very simple way and their manners were crude and informal. Several times in his work at the post office, both at the public counters and behind the scenes, he had had the opportunity to observe that the new Hebraic style, sandals and khaki, rolled-up sleeves and open neck, which we considered pioneer-like and democratic and egalitarian, was viewed by the British and particularly by the Arabs as uncouth, or as a vulgar kind of display, showing a lack of respect for others and contempt for the public services. Of course this impression was fundamentally mistaken, and there was no need to repeat that we believed in the simple life, in making do with little and in renouncing all outward show. But in the present circumstances, a visit to the mansion of a well-known and highly respected family, and on other similar occasions, it was proper for us to behave as though we had been entrusted with a diplomatic mission. Consequently we had to take great care about our appearance, our manners, and our way of talking.

For instance, Uncle Staszek insisted, in such gatherings children and even teenagers were not expected on any account to join in the grownups' conversation. If, and only if, they were spoken to, they should reply politely and as briefly as possible. If refreshments were being served, the child should choose only things that would not spill or make crumbs. If he was offered a second helping, he should refuse very politely, even if he was dying to help himself. And throughout the visit the child should kindly sit up straight and not stare, and above all he must on no account make faces. Any inappropriate behavior, particularly in Arab society, which was, he assured us, well known to be extremely sensitive, easily hurt, and inclined to take offense (and even, he was inclined to believe, vengeance), would not only be impolite and a breach of trust but might also impair future mutual understanding between the two neighboring peoples; thus—he warmed to his theme—exacerbating hostility during a period of anxiety about the danger of bloody warfare between the two nations.

In brief, Uncle Staszek said, a great deal, maybe far more than an eight-year-old child can carry on his shoulders, depends on you too this morning, on your intelligence and good behavior. By the way, you too, Malenka my dear, had better not say anything there, just say nothing beyond the necessary courtesies: as is well known, in the tradition of our Arab neighbors, as it was for our forefathers too, it is not considered acceptable for a woman suddenly to open her mouth in male company. Consequently you would do well, my darling, to let your innate good breeding and feminine charm speak for you on this occasion.

And so this little diplomatic mission set forth at ten o'clock in the morning, resplendent and fully briefed, from the Rudnickis' one-and-a-half-room apartment on the corner of the Street of the Prophets and Chancellor Street, just above Blooms Galore, the florist, leaving Chopin and Schopenhauer, the lame bird Alma-Mirabelle and the painted pine-cone bird behind, and began to wend its way eastward toward Silwani Villa on the northern side of Sheikh Jarrah, up the road that leads to Mount Scopus.

The first thing we passed on our way was the wall of the house named Thabor, which was once the home of an eccentric German architect named Conrad Schick, a devout Christian who was in love with Jerusalem. Above his gate Schick had