Online Book Reader

Home Category

All Rivers Run to the Sea_ Memoirs - Elie Wiesel [62]

By Root 2123 0
to be on the phone. I didn’t understand what he was saying, but I assumed he was dealing with our request, because I heard him say my name several times. I waited politely until he finished, then asked my question in a mixture of German and Yiddish. He stared at me, uncomprehending. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Who are you?” I told him, and his face suddenly brightened. “Oh, you’re Wiesel? I’m glad you’re here. That was a message from your sister.” I froze. “My sister! That’s impossible.” “No it’s not. That was her on the phone.” When he saw the color drain from my face, he finally realized why I was so upset. Grabbing the receiver, he frantically dialed a long series of numbers. When he hung up, he seemed downcast. “They say your sister called from a post office. They don’t know how to reach her.” I felt faint. My sister! Which one? “But she left a message for you. She’ll be waiting for you in Paris tomorrow.” I spent a sleepless night. I told myself it had to be a mistake. Even assuming one of my sisters had survived, what would she be doing in Paris? And even if she was in Paris, how would she know I had survived? And even if she did, how could she possibly know I was in Écouis?

At dawn the next morning I took the train to Paris. I was worried. How would I get around alone? I knew no one and didn’t speak a word of French. I was angry at the director and at the OSE. How could they have let me go alone? My sister in France? Hilda in Paris? Bea? It seemed so unlikely, improbable, impossible. I would stand on the train platform, take a quick look around, and catch the next train back to Écouis. Fortunately the director had given me a little money.

When the train pulled into the Gare Saint-Lazare, I thought I was dreaming. Hilda fell into my arms. She introduced me to Freddo, an Algerian Jew who had been deported to Dachau. They met after liberation, and it was love at first sight. When she heard I was dead, she followed Freddo to France. They were going to be married. How had she found me? Simple: she saw my picture in a newspaper, Defense de la France, soon to become France-Soir.

Hilda took me to meet her future in-laws. It was a large, warm family. I had always had a special affection for Sephardim, and that feeling would now deepen. Hilda and I spent the day and night talking about everything except the things that hurt. We felt a need to censor ourselves, for we were both afraid of being unable to control our emotions. Better to talk about Écouis, the OSE, the train trip—but not our parents or Tsipouka. I was afraid to mention Bea’s name. Since she was not with Hilda, did that mean …? No, thank God, Bea was alive. She had gone back to Sighet to find out whether by some miracle I might have survived.

Hilda was worried about my future. She took me to the Consistoire, where we met with the president, Léon Meiss, a patient, affable man. They spoke in French (which my sister knew from high school), so I don’t know what they said, but after half an hour’s discussion, Hilda told me I could enroll in the seminary and become a rabbi if I wanted. First I would have to learn the language, of course. I said I would think about it. I probably didn’t accept immediately because I dreaded being separated from my friends.

Freddo insisted I go see The Great Dictator at the Gaumont theater. Here at least my ignorance of French would not be a handicap. It was a packed house of laughing people, but I found Chaplin rather pathetic and sad. True, I had trouble concentrating, for a couple in the row in front of me was kissing. The man was an American soldier. I was wearing khaki, which in the darkness could easily have passed for a uniform. It seemed to me I ought to have the same rights and opportunities. But I had never kissed a woman, and now suddenly I wanted to. It was the first time this had ever happened to me. All at once I was no longer thinking of the film. I wasn’t thinking about anything. The past, the future, religious morality—all faded away. My body was doing my thinking for me, and it was drawn to,

Return Main Page Previous Page Next Page

®Online Book Reader