The air was cold and vitreous, even though there was no wind. As though the light itself contained a dazzlingly clear arctic ingredient. The words “dazzlingly clear” afforded Fima a strange, secretive thrill. One must avoid malice, he thought, even when it disguises itself as principle. He ought to repeat to himself over and over that the real enemy was despair. It was vital not to compromise with despair, not to submit to it. Young Yoezer and his contemporaries, the moderate, reasonable people who will lead their carefully modulated lives here in Jerusalem after us, will be astonished at the suffering we brought on ourselves. But at least they won’t remember us with contempt. We didn’t give in without a struggle. We held on in Jerusalem as long as we could, against incomparably superior odds and stronger forces. We did not go under peacefully. And even if we were overcome in the end, we still have the advantage of Pascal’s “thinking reed.”

So it was that, excited, unkempt, and mud-spattered, at a quarter past ten in the morning, clutching a bunch of chrysanthemums and shivering with cold, Fima rang Ted and Yael’s doorbell. When Yael came to the door, wearing gray corduroy trousers and a burgundy sweater, he said to her without any embarrassment:

“I happened to be walking past and I decided to look in just for a minute, to wish you a good Sabbath. I hope I’m not disturbing you? Shall I come back tomorrow? I’ve got the painters in next week. Never mind. I brought you some flowers for the Sabbath. Can I come inside for a minute or two?”

28

In Ithaca, on the Water’s Edge

“ALL RIGHT,” SAID YAEL, “COME IN. JUST BEAR IN MIND THAT I’VE got to go out shortly. Hang on, let me button your shirt properly. Tell me, when did you change it last?”

Fima said:

“You and I have to talk.”

Yael said:

“Not again.”

He followed her into the kitchen. On the way he peeked into the bedroom. He was vaguely hoping to see himself still sleeping in the bed since the night before last. But the bed had been made and spread with a dark blue woollen counterpane. On either side of it were twin lamps on matching bedside tables, and on each table a solitary book and, as in a hotel, a glass of water and a note pad and pencil. There were even identical alarm clocks.

Fima said: