A Tale of Love and Darkness - Amos Oz [29]
"And how about you, my dears? You must have walked here. And such a long way. From your home in Kerem Avraham? I recall how, when we were still young, thirty years ago, when we still lived in the picturesque and so authentic Bukharian Quarter, we used to set out on Saturdays and walk from Jerusalem to Bethel or Anatot and sometimes as far as the tomb of the Prophet Samuel. Dear Mrs. Klausner will give you something to eat and drink now if you will kindly follow her to her realm, and I shall join you as soon as I have finished this difficult paragraph. We are expecting the Voyslavskys today, and the poet Uri Zvi, and Even-Zahav. And dear Netanyahu and his charming wife visit us almost every Sabbath. Now come closer, my dears, come closer and see with your own eyes, you too my dear little Amos, take a look at the draft on my desk: after my death they should bring groups of students here, generation after generation, so that they may see with their own eyes the torments that writers endure in the service of their art, the struggles I have had and the lengths I have gone to to ensure that my style is simple and fluent and crystal clear, see how many words I have crossed out in each line, how many drafts I have torn up, sometimes more than half a dozen different drafts, before I was happy with what I had written. Success flows from perspiration, and inspiration from diligence and effort. As the good book saith, blessings of heaven up above, and blessings of the deep on the bottom. Only my little joke, naturally, please forgive me, ladies. Now, my dears, follow in Mrs. Klausner's footsteps and slake your thirst, and I shall not tarry."
From the far side of the library you could go out into a long narrow corridor that was the bowels of the house, and from this corridor the bathroom and a storeroom led off to the right, while straight ahead was the kitchen and pantry and the maid's room, which opened off the kitchen (although there was never any maid), or you could turn left right away into the living room or keep going toward the end of the corridor to the door of my uncle and aunt's white, flowery bedroom, which contained a large mirror in a bronze frame on either side of which was an ornamental candle sconce.
So you could reach the living room by any one of three routes: you could turn left from the entrance hall as you came into the house, or go straight ahead into the study, leave it by the corridor, turn left at once, as Uncle Joseph used to do on Sabbaths, and find yourself directly at the seat of honor at the head of the long black dining table that extended for almost the entire length of the living room. In addition, there was a low, arched doorway in a corner of the living room that led into a drawing room that was rounded on one side like a turret, with windows that looked out on the front garden, the Washingtonias, the quiet little street, and Mr. Agnon's house, which stood directly opposite, on the other side of the road.
This drawing room was also known as the smoking room. (Smoking was forbidden in Professor Klausner's house during the Sabbath, although the Sabbath did not always prevent Uncle Joseph from working at his articles.) There were several heavy, soft armchairs, sofas covered with cushions embroidered in oriental style, a wide, soft rug and a big oil painting (by Maurycy Gottlieb?) of an old Jew wearing phylacteries and a prayer shawl, holding a prayer book, which he was not reading because his eyes were closed, his mouth open, and his face expressed tortured religiosity and spiritual exaltation. I always had the feeling that this pious Jew knew all my shameful secrets, but instead of reproving me, he silently pleaded