Mila 18 - Leon Uris [66]
Paul sighed and lay his pipe in the ash tray and rocked his chair back and forth, back and forth. “I might have known you’d still be trying to lead a cavalry charge.”
Andrei, who swore to himself he would not get angry, held his temper. “How much do you have to take from them before you show your spine? Where are all your fine students now? Where are all your colleagues from the university now?”
“Andrei,” Paul said softly, “you are not the only one who has meditated about this problem. When I lost my right arm, my body underwent a shock but, as you see, I am well recovered. So, the Jews in Warsaw are losing their right arms. It is painful, but the shock will pass and they will live. Not so well as before, perhaps, but that is the way things are, and nothing we can do will change them.”
“Are you willing to guarantee me that the Germans are going to stop at merely taking an arm? Can you tell me honestly the directives won’t take the other arm, then both legs?”
“I’ll tell you what I am willing to do, Andrei. I am willing to accept life for what it is. The Germans are the law. They have won a war. I see no alternative.”
“You really think you can do business with them?”
“I really think I have no choice, Andrei. Andrei ... Andrei ... You are always charging windmills—you are always looking for the mystical enemy. Before the Germans, you fought Poland. You cannot accept life for what it is. Yes, I’ve compromised, but I know reality. I’ve not chased ghosts. I compromise now because I was suddenly made a Jew again and I have no alternative. Andrei, I’ve been put into a position of responsibility to this community. Didn’t ask for it—didn’t want it. But I must, you see, I also have a wife and two children to keep alive—”
“And for that you’ll forfeit your soul and honor!”
“Try out the catch phrases elsewhere. I know what you are up to. Insurrection ... agitation ... an underground. Break your head against a wall just as you did before the war. I know the reality of what is here now and I’m going to bring my family through it.”
Andrei was about to roar that Paul was a coward, always looking for the easy path out. The cat who always lands on his feet. The first to sell his soul. It took all the strength he had, but he restrained himself.
“And, so long as we are talking about it, Andrei, your activities are bound to be known. For the safety of Deborah and the children, it may be best if you stay away from us.”
“Let my sister decide that!”
“Oh, nothing her darling brother does can be wrong.”
Andrei spun around on his heels and stamped out. He was unable to resist slamming the door as a sign that he had not entirely lost his restraint.
Paul tapped the pipe against his teeth and shook his head. There he goes, Paul thought. Still looking for a fight. Still at the head of a cavalry charge. How long would Andrei last in this atmosphere before he was dragged up before a firing squad?
But then, Andrei would laugh at them while he was being shot. And for a moment Paul was envious of that reckless courage that was unable to give quarter. He, Paul Bronski, had shown an instinctive courage in a single instant when the German bully Rudolph Schreiker demanded Jewish women for prostitutes. There would be other moments of crisis in the days ahead. How he would like to be Andrei Androfski in those moments. Would he be defiant when the challenge came the next time? He did not know. If only he could store that second of courage in a little box and open it again when he needed it.
A ruckus from the direction of the kitchen sent Paul running from his study. Deborah was standing over Zoshia, yelling at her.
“What is going on here?”
“Zoshia stole our silver. Rachael saw her pass it over the fence to that rotten son of hers.”
Paul stepped between the two of them.
“Is this true, Zoshia?” he demanded.
“It is true and I’m not sorry,” Zoshia screamed.
“She is a dirty thief,” Deborah snarled.
“It is mine and more than mine for the years I have cleaned your Jew dirt.”
“Oh, dear Lord,