“Perhaps later,” said Yolek with one of his shrewd smiles. “Perhaps after supper. Or perhaps not. Perhaps we should postpone both our colloquium and your recital to another time. This evening—after you’ve eaten, of course—Hava will take you to Yonatan. Let the two of them meet, why not? Let them talk about the tractor shed or whatever they like. In the third drawer, Hava, you’ll find the key to the barbershop. Yes, he’ll stay in the barber’s room, next to the Italian. There’s a folding cot there, and blankets, and a kerosene heater. The barber, I’m sorry to say, comes only once every six weeks. There, young man, you can taste the life of the pioneers of old until we find you more permanent quarters. Oh, well. If I don’t see you again tonight, I’ll see you in the morning at the office. I do hope you won’t decide to abscond on foot in the middle of the night, eh? Na, there’s no need to answer. I was just making one of my old-fashioned jokes, and already you’re on the defensive. Just pretend that nothing was said. Here, take a few cigarettes with you for the road. By the way, what do you have in that case, a violin? No? A guitar? We’ll have to find some time to introduce you to Srulik. He’s our head music man. And first thing tomorrow morning don’t forget to come see me at the office. No, not about music—about the formal arrangements for you to stay. At the moment my elder son is running the tractor shed, and he’ll explain all about it. If you can get Yonatan to talk, that is. And now, forward march, both of you. Go have your supper.”

“All right,” said Hava quietly, if with a kind of concealed hostility. “We will.”

Tenderness or wonder made Yolek Lifshitz smile all of a sudden and declare, “Azariah!”

“Yes, Comrade Yolek.”

“I hope you enjoy being here with us.”

“Thank you very much.”

“And welcome.”

“Thank you very much, Comrade Yolek. I mean, I won’t disappoint you. Never.”

Hava turned to go and was followed by Azariah. She was a short, energetic woman with masculine, close-cropped, grayish-white hair and a clenched mouth. Overall her expression was one of a violently uncompromising good nature. Life, it seemed to say, is a vulgar, thankless, insulting business. Although scoundrels and swine are everywhere, I will not desert my post. I will do my duty without fail, devoted to the cause, to society, and to my fellow man, even if no one knows as well as I what a pigsty my fellow man is. As for the cause, the less I hear of it, the better. I’ve already heard and seen and smelled far more than I care to, but let it be.