Tzili Read Free Page B

mother!” she wailed. She went on screaming for a long time. Her voice grew weaker and weaker and she fell to the ground with her arms spread out, as she imagined her body would lie in death.
    When she had composed herself a little, she saw her sister sitting at the table. In the last year she had tortured herself with algebra. They had to bring a tutor from theneighboring town. The tutor turned out to be a harsh, strict man and Blanca was terrified of him. She wept, but no one paid any attention to her tears. The father too, from his sick bed, demanded the impossible of her. And she did it too. Although she did not complete the paper and obtained a low mark, she did not fail. Now Tzili saw her sister as she had never seen her before, struggling with both hands against the Angel of Death.
    And as the light rose higher in the sky, Tzili heard the trudge of approaching feet. One of the blind man’s daughters was leading her father to his place. He was grumbling. Cursing his wife and daughters. The girl did not reply. Tzili listened intently to the footsteps. When they reached his place on the hillock the girl said: “With your permission, father, I’ll go back to the pasture now.”
    “Go!” He dismissed her, but immediately changed his mind and added: “That’s the way you honor your father.”
    “What shall I do, father?” Her voice trembled.
    “Tell your father the latest news in the village.”
    “They chased the Jews away and they killed them too.”
    “All of them?” he asked, with a dry kind of curiosity.
    “Yes, father.”
    “And their houses? What happened to their houses?”
    “The peasants are looting them,” she said, lowering her voice as if she were repeating some scandalous piece of gossip.
    “What do you say? Maybe you can find me a winter coat.”
    “I’ll look for one, father.”
    “Don’t forget.”
    “I won’t forget.”
    Tzili took in this exchange, but not its terrible meaning. She was no longer afraid. She knew that the blind man would not move from his place.

5
    H OURS OF SILENCE came. Her oppression lifted. And after her weeping she felt a sense of release. “It’s better now,” she whispered, to banish the remnants of the fear still congealed inside her. She lay flat on her back. The late summer sunlight warmed her body from top to toe. The last words left her and the old hunger that had troubled her the day before came back.
    When night fell she bandaged her loins with her shawl, and without thinking about where she was going she walked on. The night was clear, and delicate drops of light sparkled on the broad cornfields. The bandage pressing against her felt good, and she walked on. She came across a stream and bent down to cup the water in her hands and drink. Only now did she realize how thirsty she was. She sat calmly and watched the running water. The sights of home dissolved in the cool air. Her fear shrank. From time to time brief words or syllablesescaped her lips, but they were only the sighs that come after long weeping.
    She slept and woke and slept again and saw her old teacher. The look in his eye was neither kindly nor benign, but appraising, the way he looked at her when she was reading from the prayer book. It was a dispassionate, slightly mocking look. Strange, she tried to explain something to him but the words were muted in her mouth. In the end she succeeded in saying: I am setting out on a long journey. Give me your blessing, teacher. But she didn’t really say it, she only imagined saying it. Her intention made no impression on the old man, as if it were just one more of her many mistakes.
    Afterward she wandered in the outskirts of the forest. Her food was meager: a few wild cherries, apples, and various kinds of sour little fruits which quenched her thirst. The hunger for bread left her. From time to time she went down to the river and dipped her feet in the water. The cold water brought back memories of the winter, her sick father groaning and