And the boy, not even troubling to close the door of the taxi behind him, rushed back and threw his arms around her waist, whispering something that made them both laugh. The driver hurled an oath after him, and Fima, without asking himself why, decided on the spot that his duty was to set matters to rights for the driver. So he got into the taxi, closed the door, and said:

“Sorry about the mix-up. Kiryat Yovel, please.”

The driver, a thickset man with greasy silver hair, small eyes, and a trim Latin mustache, grumbled irritably:

“What’s going on here? First you hail a cab, then you can’t make up your mind? Don’t you people know what you want?”

Fima realized that the driver took him to be with the couple. He muttered apologetically:

“What’s the problem. It took us half a minute to decide. We had a difference of opinion. There’s nothing for you to get excited about.”

He resolved to initiate another political discussion, only this time he would not put up in silence with bloodthirsty savagery, but employ clear, straightforward arguments and irresistible logic. He was all ready to resume the sermon he had begun to deliver earlier to the prime minister, but when he began to feel his way cautiously, like a dentist probing to find the source of a pain, to see what the driver felt about the question of the Territories and peace, the man interrupted amicably:

“Just drop it, will you, sir? Me, my views just get people worked up. They start listening to me and they head straight for a breakdown. That’s the reason I stopped having discussions long ago. So hang onto your temper. If I was in charge of this country, I’d have it back on its feet in three months. But the Israeli people have given up thinking with their brains. They think only with their bellies. And their balls. So why should I waste my health for nothing? Every time I get in a discussion, it just burns up the nerves. It’s hopeless. It’s mob rule here. Worse than the Arabs.”

Fima said:

“What if I promise not to get worked up, and not to get you worked up? We can always agree to differ.”

“Okay then,” said the driver, “only just remember you asked for it. Well, for me it’s like this: For a real peace, so called, with assurances and guarantees and safeguards, for a peace like that I’d personally give them all the Territories except the Western Wall, and I’d even say thank you to them for taking Ramallah and Gaza off my back. Ever since that shit landed on us in ’sixty-seven, the state’s been going to the dogs. They’ve made a right mess of us. Well, how about it? Am I getting on your nerves? Are you going to start farting the Bible at me?”