Until the Dawn's Light_ A Novel - Aharon Appelfeld [8]
In prior years they had gone on vacation to Feuerberg, but more recently they traveled as far north as the unspoiled Winterweiss, where branches of the Danube flowed in broad, silent valleys. In Winterweiss there were no Jews; the Jews who had converted tried to behave like Austrians, and the Austrians behaved like Austrians. Blanca’s father didn’t like the company of Jews.
“The Jews have lost their essence,” he used to say, “and their emptiness is annoying.” His usual soft expression would change when he spoke about his brethren.
When he was young Blanca’s father wanted to convert, but his mother, who didn’t observe the traditions but was very devoted to her family, forbade it and made him swear that he would not. At first he planned to ignore the oath, but when he realized how much it would pain her, he abandoned the idea. For years he had regretted that.
“If I’d converted to Christianity,” he used to say, “my life would have been different.”
His wife didn’t agree with him. “The Jews are no worse than other people,” she would reply.
Blanca’s father stuck to his opinion. “They are worse.”
Those of his friends who had converted had graduated from the university and done better than he. Some of them were physicians, attorneys, and industrialists, and he barely could support his family. He attributed all his failures to his Jewishness. Jewishness was an illness that had to be uprooted. That brutal statement didn’t go with his soft temperament. Nevertheless, he repeated it regularly. In Winterweiss he was at ease. He swam in the river, solved chess problems, read mathematics books eagerly, and if there was a piano, he would play it. That was the father Blanca loved, affable and overflowing with humor.
A week before the end of the school year, three weeks before Blanca and her parents left for Winterweiss, Blanca met Adolf near the school laboratory, and they spoke for a few minutes. Adolf’s words had no special content, but they struck her heart; it was as though he had whispered a secret to her. After that, he never left her sight. Adolf wasn’t an outstanding student, but the teachers were fond of him because of his height and strength, and they didn’t fail him. Even the tall teachers looked short next to him. They saw him as a phenomenon of nature, sometimes saying, “Adolf will pick that up. Only Adolf can do it.” Once, he lifted a teacher’s desk up on his shoulders, and everyone cheered him. On the playing field, he wasn’t one of the swifter athletes, but his strength stood him in good stead there, too. The girls admired him but were afraid of him. Sometimes, when he managed to overcome a mathematics problem, a wild smile would spread across his face, like that of an animal whose hunger was satisfied.
Adolf wasn’t particularly kindhearted, but he was always ready to help carry building materials or move cabinets. In the spring he would help the gardeners, and if a boy got hurt, he would carry him to the infirmary in his arms. He was a friend of the principal and assistant principal because they also needed his help from time to time. Only one person was his adversary: Dr. Klein, the Latin teacher. At first he would scold Adolf for not doing his homework properly. But in the end he just ignored him, as though Adolf weren’t sitting in the classroom. Adolf hated Dr. Klein, and everyone was afraid he would do something impulsive. At the end of the year, Dr. Klein refused to give him even a barely passing grade, as he had done the year before. That task fell to the assistant principal. He examined Adolf again and awarded him a low passing grade. Adolf gnashed his teeth and threatened revenge.
Adolf was different from anyone Blanca had ever known, and not only because of his height and strength. His movements were also different. Blanca was certain