Until the Dawn's Light_ A Novel - Aharon Appelfeld [80]
The next morning, by chance, Blanca heard a woman say to her friend, “Did you hear about the murderess who killed her husband with an ax? They say that she’s hiding among us and that a contingent of gendarmes is due to come here to make a search.”
“I didn’t hear that.”
“But you did hear about the murderess?”
“Of course.”
“It’s frightening to think that she’s among us.”
They kept on talking, but Blanca couldn’t catch their words. She fled and headed straight for the pension.
That night Blanca didn’t sleep. The fear that had secretly tormented her suddenly vanished. Her senses were alert, and she could see clearly—the residents of the old age home in Blumenthal, for example. She saw the row of beds in the dormitory, the private rooms of the wealthier residents, and the alcove where the aged Tsirl lived. She had started stealing there by chance, but she soon came to steal deftly, while pretending to be a lethargic woman. The residents hadn’t suspected her but picked on the cleaning women instead. All the time she worked there, she had remained on guard and hadn’t erred even with a single gesture. And when she bade good-bye to the residents, her voice hadn’t conveyed even a single hint of remorse. On the contrary, the pocket full of jewels filled her with hidden pleasure. This, too, is Blanca, she said to herself, and she’ll face judgment for that as well, when the day comes.
The next morning she told Mrs. Tauber, “I’ve just gotten news that my father is very ill, and I have to set out right away.”
“What can I say?” Mrs. Tauber said in a choked voice.
“I didn’t behave well toward my father. You should never send parents to an old age home. Old age homes stifle and humiliate people.”
Mrs. Tauber cut her short. “Go easy on yourself, Blanca.”
“I’m not the essence of purity,” Blanca replied.
“None of us has done his duty properly,” said Mrs. Tauber.
“I’m not talking about duties, but about ugly selfishness.”
Mrs. Tauber was stunned by Blanca’s words and refused to accept payment for the final week. But Blanca insisted and said, “I don’t want to be in your debt.” She also stuffed a banknote into the housekeeper’s apron. And so they parted.
When Blanca reached The Home, she went over to the children’s beds to see Otto, and for the moment she forgot her hasty departure from the pension. Then she busied herself with work, washing the children and polishing their shoes, preparing the main room for prayers. Rosa had introduced a lovely custom: she decorated the prayer room with flowers and potted plants, and before the prayers began she watered them.
After prayers, Blanca prepared breakfast with Rosa. Only when the meal was finished did she say, “My father is very ill, and I have to leave.”
“What’s the matter with him?”
“When I parted from my father, he was healthy and in good spirits. He’s a professional mathematician. But now I don’t know.”
“Where is he?”
“In Kimpolung.” Blanca wasn’t flustered by the question and was pleased that the name had immediately occurred to her.
“Go, Blanca. Otto can stay here. The children like him.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. Let’s pray together that God will send a full recovery to your father and to all the sick people among the Jews.”
“What should I say to Otto?”
“Tell him the truth. It’s always best to tell the truth.”
After lunch Blanca knelt and said, “Otto.”
“What?” he asked, without looking up.
“I want to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I have to go away again.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll return soon. Don’t worry.”
She expected Otto to