“You see?” said the pianist. “He’s a reasonable man.”

Wohltat turned on his heel and went to the window. He clasped his chubby hands behind his back. The flies, he noticed, were bumbling against the glass. He looked into the dusty, deserted streets. He imagined himself pulling a person through them. A Jewess perhaps. By the hair. He dwelled on this, on the little pulls and jerks he would give her, and his throat swelled, like an amphibian’s, under his shirt. Meanwhile, behind his back, like more flies, the Jews were buzz-buzzing. Then that sound came to a stop.

“Ahem-ahem—” Some person coughed. Wohltat swung around.

A Jew was standing there, swinging a timepiece from his outstretched hand. This was Popower, Ministry of Finance, an erstwhile waiter. He held his top hat against his chest, so that his skull, with its bony, fuzzy ridge, was apparent. He laughed to break the silence. “Everybody wants to live.”

“Show him how it strikes the hour,” hissed one of the Council members.

“Like this!” said the Minister, pulling at the crown of the watch. “Let us say it is eleven o’clock. There!”

A number of little bells inside the clock started to chime. They played a tune. “An American watch,” Popower said. “From the St. Louis Exposition.”

Then there was silence. No one could guess, at that difficult moment, what Wohltat would do. “Pretty watch,” he said at last.

“Take it, take it,” all cried out.

The timepiece went into the Volksdeutscher’s pocket.

Mathilda Megalif stepped forward. She had the face of an artist, with dark semicircles under her eyes, and lids that came halfway down. There were many tight curls in her hair. “A bundle of twenty kilos is a pathetic and paltry load. A Jew, instead of necessities, like food, bedding, and saucepans, ought to be able to carry books and albums and certain mementos. The Judenrat therefore requests that the twenty-kilo limit be doubled. Forty kilos is all that a strong man can carry. Let a Jew take whatever he is able to lift!”

Wohltat pondered. “The limit is raised to thirty-five kilos,” he announced.

It was an important concession. Some of those assembled broke into applause. Verble, of Housing, was especially excited. “People say the Judenrat is a worthless institution. That it should be abolished. But look what we’ve done!”

Now Paradyz stepped from the group. He was holding a number of rings in his palm. “Noon tomorrow is too soon. People need time. Twenty-four hours more! Just twenty-four! To wind up one’s affairs. To say farewell.”

“The time limit is extended from noon to 4 P.M.!”

The Council let out a collective sigh. The Minister of Water and Power slipped the gold bands into the Volksdeutscher’s hand.

“This is real diplomacy!” exclaimed Gutfreind, like so many cooks a baby-faced man.

Now the Ministers urged Urinstein forward, so that he faced the head of the Civilian Authority alone. His red lips showed through his distinguished beard. “Let us speak frankly,” he said. “I have been authorized by the Judenrat to offer you a certain sum—not jewelry, not watches, but so many thousand of zlotys, in exchange for a reduction in the number of listed Jews. It has already been mentioned: what good are old people and criminals upon a farm? We shall raise a special tax, and with the proceeds you can buy tractors and fertilizers, which will take the place of the Jews.”