Paris: The Novel

was an extreme case.
    “He’s just a puppet,” said Jacob.
    “Then listen to the most extraordinary news of all. The new pope is not going to live in Rome.”
    “Not at the Vatican?”
    “He won’t even be crowned in Rome. They’ll do it in Burgundy. After that he’s moving the papal court to Poitiers, right here in the domains of the King of France. There is talk of his moving down to Avignon ina year or two, but not to Rome. As of today, King Philip of France owns the papacy.”
    He left them soon afterward to spread the news. When he had gone, Jacob shook his head.
    “In time of danger, popes have sometimes left Rome before,” he remarked, “but this … I don’t know what to say.”
    Sarah’s face was a mask.
    Then Naomi spoke.
    “I am not surprised at all.” She looked steadily at her father. “The Church is corrupt. You have told me so yourself. I don’t think the Church has anything to do with God at all. In fact, it disgusts me.”
    “Don’t speak to your father like that,” said Sarah sharply.
    But Jacob was not angry. He was grieved.
    “You must be careful what you say, Naomi,” he said quietly. “Such words are dangerous. And for a convert, they are more than dangerous.”
    “I am not a convert,” Naomi cried bitterly. “It was you who made me a Christian.”
    “But you are a Christian now. No one, not even a servant in this house, must hear you say such a thing. It could place us all in great danger.”
    Naomi was silent for a moment.
    “I will say nothing,” she answered. “But now you know what I think, Father, and that will never change.” Then she went out of the room.

    What could he do? There was nothing he could do. He understood her feelings. In many ways he shared them. She was shocked at the corruption. So was he.
    And she was young. By the time she reached his age, she might accept that the best to be hoped for were small adjustments to an imperfect world. But for the time being, her mind was made up, and he must respect it.
    He was grateful also that she kept her promise not to reveal her feelings. She went about her daily business, helping her mother, in her usual quiet and cheerful way. She accompanied her family to church without complaint. She still joined him when he told stories to little Jacob, and she even started to teach the child to read and write herself. He would have preferred to reserve this task for himself, but he was pleased if it gave her an occupation, especially in the dark winter months.
    For her greatest pleasure was to go out. She took little Jacob for a walkeach day. Whenever her father went out to his orchard, she would always gladly accompany him. She would walk across to the Île de la Cité and light a candle in Notre Dame. And since these visits appeared to the world as acts of religious devotion, her father did not discourage them.
    “I think it helps her to get out of the house,” he remarked to Sarah.
    And so their family life continued quietly, through the winter and into the spring. As the weather grew warmer, Naomi was able to walk a little longer. One day, she told him, she had crossed over to the Left Bank and visited the lovely Church of Saint-Séverin. With the warmer weather, her mood also seemed to lighten. Perhaps she had gotten over her shock of the previous year.
    “The time is approaching,” Jacob said to his wife one day, “when we may have to start thinking about a husband for her. As long,” he added uncertainly, “as she isn’t going to start airing her views on the pope to any prospective husband.”

    The visit from the rabbi came in the middle of June. He arrived at Jacob’s house a little before noon. Naomi was out with her little brother.
    The rabbi had put on weight in the last few years. He sat down heavily on the bench in Jacob’s counting house.
    “What can I do for you?” Jacob asked warily.
    “What can you do for me?” The rabbi stared at him. “What can you not do for me?” He sighed, and shook his head. “You do not know why I have come to your house?”
    “I do not.”
    “The wise man does not know.” He nodded. “I am a fool!” he burst out suddenly. And then, very quietly: “But I know.”
    Jacob waited.
    “Your daughter, Naomi, goes walking by herself quite often,” the rabbi continued.
    “Yes. What of it?”
    “Where does she walk?”
    “It depends. Sometimes to Notre Dame, or some other church.”
    “And what does she do when she gets there?”
    “Lights a