When he eventually managed to get to his feet, he stood absent-mindedly in the rain, looking like someone who does not know where he has come from or where he must go. Raising his head toward the upper floors, he saw nothing but closed shutters or blank curtained windows. Here and there on a balcony was a geranium in a pot. The rain had given them a sensual sparkle that brought to his mind the painted lips of a vulgar woman.

Beside the entrance to the clinic there was an elegantly restrained plate of black glass inscribed in silver lettering: DR. WAHRHAFTIG DR. EITAN CONSULTANT GYNECOLOGISTS. For the thousandth time Fima asked himself why there were not specialists for male disorders too. He also objected to the Hebrew, which contained a construction that the language does not tolerate. Then he found himself ridiculous for thinking such an absurd sentence. And felt shame and confusion as he recalled how indignantly he had reacted to the news, indignant not because of the death of an Arab boy in the Jebeliyeh refugee camp but because of the phrase “killed by a plastic bullet.”

As if it’s the bullets that do the killing.

And was he getting soft in the head himself?

He summoned his cabinet for another meeting in the dilapidated classroom. At the door he posted a burly sentry in khaki shorts, Arab headdress, and knit cap. Some of his ministers sat on the bare floor at his feet, others leaned against the wall, which was covered with educational diagrams. In a few well-chosen words Fima presented them with the need to choose between the territories conquered in ’sixty-seven and our very identity. Then, while they were still buzzing excitedly, he called for a vote, which he won, and immediately gave them his detailed instructions.

Before we won the Six Days’ War, he mused, the state of the nation was less dangerous and destructive than it is now. Or perhaps it wasn’t really less dangerous, just less demoralizing and less depressing. Was it really easier for us to face up to the danger of annihilation than to sit in the dock facing the accusations of international public opinion? The danger of annihilation gave us pride and a sense of unity, whereas sitting in the dock now is gradually breaking our spirit. But that’s not the right way to state the alternatives. In fact, sitting in the dock may be breaking the spirit only of the secular intelligentsia of Russian or Western origin, whereas the ordinary masses are not in the least nostalgic for the pride of David standing up to Goliath. Anyway, the expression “ordinary masses” is a hollow cliché. Meanwhile, because you fell, your trousers are covered with mud and the hands that are wiping them clean are also muddy and the rain is pouring down on your head. It is already five past one. However hard you try, you’ll never get to work on time.