Azariah removed a white rook from the board, replaced it with a knight, and shook his head. “You remember everything, don’t you? You never forget a thing.”

They lapsed into silence. The violin concerto concluded in diminuendos of resignation. The cake was done. Rimona sliced and served it, then poured them both cold tea. “I dreamed about Yoni last night,” she said. “That he was in some army barracks playing your guitar. You could see in the dream that he liked it, and that all the soldiers who were there did too. You were also there, knitting him a sweater.”

Although the cold weather was long gone, and Rimona no longer pulled her hands back into her sleeves, she still gripped her glass of cold tea with both hands as if trying to warm herself.

The floor gave off a subtly clean smell. Azariah absentmindedly shifted his gaze to the bookcase on the other side of the room. The framed gray snapshot of Rimona and Yoni on their honeymoon in the Judean Desert caught his eyes, a squashed jerrycan in the sand before them, behind them the back of a jeep. It’s an odd thing, he thought, but I never noticed that there’s someone else in that photograph, a hairy leg in shorts and paratrooper boots.

“He had ten or twenty children, and he was a poor man. He played the organ in church and he did not earn much. Mrs. Bach had no time for him with all her children. Surely he had to help her with washing and cooking, he had to borrow money to buy coal, since it’s always winter in Germany. It was very hard for him, yet sometimes he exudes joy.”

“I’ve had no one since I was a child,” said Azariah.

Rimona asked whether she should turn on the radio for the eleven o’clock news.

“Forget it,” said Azariah. “They talk endlessly, not realizing that we are on the verge of war. Everything points to it: the Russians, the arms race, their impression that Eshkol is weak and sheepish and that we are all tired.”

“He is good,” said Rimona.

“Eshkol? Yes, he is, though even someone like me reads the situation better than he does. Only I’ve decided to keep my mouth shut. What I have to say always makes them laugh.”

“Wait,” said Rimona, “wait, Zaro, time will pass, you will grow and they will start listening. Don’t be sad.”

“Who’s sad?” Azariah asked. “I am not. Just a little tired and have to be up at four. Let’s go to sleep.”