Until the Dawn's Light_ A Novel - Aharon Appelfeld [78]
“What are you thinking about, Mama?” Otto asked softly.
“Nothing.”
“You’re not thinking about anything?” He tried to understand.
“That happens sometimes.”
Otto chuckled, as though he had caught his mother once again in a kind of mental lapse.
55
THE NEXT DAY Blanca learned from Mrs. Tauber that a Jewish woman had recently opened a kindergarten on the outskirts of the city. She had studied in Vienna and was applying modern educational methods. I must find a secure shelter for Otto, she said to herself, and so they went there.
It was an old-fashioned house. The windows were broad, there was a garden behind the house, and beyond the fence were open fields. Blanca introduced herself.
“My name is Blanca Guttmann,” she said, “and this is my son, Otto Guttmann. We heard about your kindergarten, and we’d like to learn more.”
“My name is Rosa Baum,” the woman answered. “This is actually the community orphanage.”
“That’s exactly what I’m looking for,” Blanca said. “I can help out here, if there’s a need.”
“Regrettably, we can’t offer a salary.”
“I don’t need a salary.”
So Blanca and Otto were received in “The Home,” which is what Rosa called it.
“The place is just right for Otto,” Blanca told Mrs. Tauber that evening. “The house is close to the fields, and light streams in from the windows. I’m so grateful to you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Mrs. Tauber said, blushing.
“You helped us,” Blanca insisted. “Without your help, we were like blind people.”
Mr. Tauber, in contrast to his wife, spoke in torrents, interpreting and explaining, and his efforts to please the guests were somewhat ridiculous. Despite this, he also had a certain charm, especially when he appeared in the morning with the coffeepot in his hand, loudly announcing his wish to be of service.
“Fresh coffee,” he would say. “I prepared it with my own hands just now.”
Rosa Baum was about thirty-five years old, but her face was like a young girl’s. When she knelt, she was no taller than the children who surrounded her. She herself had been orphaned at a young age, and good people had adopted her and taken care of her schooling. When she was eighteen, they had sent her to Vienna to study education at a well-known institution named after Rousseau. She studied there for five years. At the end of her studies she was invited to stay on and teach, but Rosa wanted to come back to Struzhincz and establish the first orphanage in the province. At the beginning it wasn’t easy. For many months she knocked on the doors of wealthy people until she found a donor, Dr. Haussmann, and he placed a beautiful home at her disposal. The daily needs and the salaries were paid for by the Jewish community.
In the mornings Blanca helped to wash the children and to prepare the prayer hall. The prayers lasted no longer than twenty minutes, and afterward breakfast was served.
“I never learned the Hebrew alphabet,” Blanca apologized.
“It’s not hard to learn, if you want to,” said Rosa in the manner of a person who has known sorrow in her life.
“And my knowledge of Judaism, I’m ashamed to say, is extremely limited,” said Blanca. She remembered the thick holiday prayer book she had seen in her mother’s hands, and its yellowed pages.
Otto felt comfortable in the orphanage. He played with the children on the floor. They spoke a mixture of Yiddish and German, and he usually understood what they were talking about. Sometimes, when he didn’t understand a word, he raised his head, looked over to his mother, and Rosa explained it to him.
At ten thirty Rosa would tell them a Bible story. When Rosa was speaking, the children were very attentive, devouring every word. Afterward they would return to their play in the central room or on the balcony. When a quarrel broke out—and a quarrel did break out once or twice a day—Rosa would stand in the middle of the room, close her eyes,