“No. The next day, Luria, looking like a siren come to tempt him—Luria was handsome in those days—Luria came to Jacob and in front of everyone, he knelt to him, took off his shirt, tore strips from it, and took Jacob’s bare foot in his hands, chanting as he did it . . . ‘Jacob, Jacob, here’s a splinter.’ And then with all of us staring, he pulled out the splinter, then rubbed the foot to get the warmth back. You know Luria . . .”

“Yes,” Rachel said.

“Then can you picture Luria on his knees to Jacob? Luria tending to Jacob’s feet? Poor Jacob was so moved I thought he would cry at last, and I didn’t want him to because I wasn’t, even when I was only eight, the innocent your father-­in-­law is, and I knew Luria wanted something. ‘Let’s go outside, Jacob,’ said Luria, ‘just the two of us, and walk by the trees like we used to at home.’ And he put his arm around Jacob and took him outside. They walked under the pines, heads bent together, talking. The guards watched them, but all they did was shoot a few branches off the pines, just to scare them. Ah, those pines! They were covered with snow then. In the spring they were light green at the tips, and there was a soft bed of brown needles around them all the time. It was beautiful there. In America it would be a resort or a national park. Nu! Come to beautiful Belzec!”

He laughed, then stopped and shook his head. “I’m a bizarre man, especially my humor, and the people who know me think I’m brutal and a little crazy.” He shrugged. “They’re right. It’s because of the camp. You’ve heard people say, ‘I do so-­and-­so because I’m from the South or Midwest or North, or Italy or England or somewhere,’ and you understand, don’t you. The place has an effect. Belzec too. It’s my hometown.

“Anyway, Luria and Jacob walked and talked as if they were on the village street coming home from shul, discussing a point of Talmud. Only Luria’s bare-­chested and Jacob’s wearing Luria’s shirt on his foot. And this time the goyim don’t throw rocks and yell names, they stand silent and hold machine guns. And by now Jacob’s wife is dead, though he doesn’t know that yet. And Luria’s young wife and his mother and sister. And Jacob’s mother and sister. And all our fathers. No. Maybe some were still alive on that afternoon when Luria and Jacob went for their walk.

“I watched from the window. All the others watched, too. Then Luria and Jacob laughed and when they came back inside, I knew Jacob had given in. He still didn’t like it. . . .”

“What didn’t he like?” Hawkins asked.