Until the Dawn's Light_ A Novel - Aharon Appelfeld [34]
The smile left her mother-in-law’s face all at once. “Every decent husband hits a little. Nobody dies from it.”
“I’m not used to it,” said Blanca.
“You have to get used to it,” her mother-in-law said, as though they were talking about a type of housework. “Jews spoil their girls. That kind of spoiling is despicable, and one mustn’t become addicted to it.”
Blanca knew now that salvation would not come from her mother-in-law. Nevertheless, she bared her thigh and showed her the wound.
“You shouldn’t show things like that,” her mother-in-law said, shocked. “A husband who beats is a loving husband. That’s what we say. A woman without a beating becomes wanton. A husband not only supports her, he also watches over her.”
“I’m not used to it,” Blanca repeated helplessly.
“You have to get used to our way of life. Among us, husbands beat their wives. There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s how to love a wife, too.”
Blanca hung her head, and tears welled up in her eyes.
For a month she vomited. The vomiting weakened her, but she still rose early to clean the house and prepare breakfast for Adolf. Adolf kept saying, “When my sisters were pregnant, they didn’t vomit. You should have a stiff drink, not tea. Among us, only sick people and old people drink tea.”
Before long the bleeding began. Adolf brought the medic. He examined her and said, “A doctor must see her.”
The next day, Dr. Nussbaum came. Dr. Nussbaum was one of the town’s best-known doctors. After finishing his studies, he converted and began to work in the public hospital. Blanca knew him well. She had studied with his daughter, a thin and sensitive girl named Celia. Any excessive movement, not to mention any harsh sight, would overwhelm her with emotion and make her cry. Once, on a class trip, they had ended up on a farm where pigs were snorting. The squealing of the pigs, which were trying to escape the slaughterers’ axes, amused the class. Celia, seeing the slaughterers, fainted, falling into what seemed to be a coma; for a long time they tried to rouse her from it. In the end they had to summon her father from the hospital, and he resuscitated her himself.
“Blanca,” the doctor called out with fatherly fondness.
Hearing that familiar voice, Blanca burst into tears.
“Don’t cry. Nobody’s done anything to you,” Adolf commented.
“I’d like to ask everyone present to leave the room,” Dr. Nussbaum ordered.
When he asked her what had caused all the wounds on her body, Blanca answered, “I fell down. I wasn’t careful.”
Dr. Nussbaum was an experienced physician, and he knew what some men did to their wives. He didn’t hold his tongue. “Animals,” he said.
“We’re going to put you in the hospital,” he continued, and took her under his protection.
Adolf had come back into the room and was about to say something, but seeing the doctor’s anger, he didn’t dare.
Thus Blanca left her prison. Her pains were sharp and her weakness was great, but the people who surrounded her were kind and pleasant. Every morning she would wake up as if she were in her parents’ home. “Mama,” she said, “you sent me these good angels.”
Dr. Nussbaum visited her twice a day, and when he was off duty, he would sit and converse with her. He had known her parents well and had just heard about her father’s disappearance. “We were friends from youth,” he said, burying his face in his hands. “How is it I knew nothing? How is it I didn’t sense anything? Are they still looking for him?”
“Not anymore.”
25
IN THE HOSPITAL, Blanca was cared for with great concern. Christina, the nurse, sat at her side and told her about her life. Her parents had died when she was a child, and she had been forced to go out and work at a young age. First she had worked as a practical nurse. The medical staff had valued her work and sent her to Vienna to study at the nursing school. That was her profession, and this was her home. Blanca noticed: her steps were quick, but her upper limbs were somewhat stiff. A pallor covered her face, and she