The Collected Stories

partner in Vienna by that name. Wait, I must make a telephone call.”
    Liebkind Bendel jumped up and ran to a telephone booth. He stayed there about ten minutes. I could see him through the glass door. He was turning the pages of a notebook. He made strange grimaces. When he returned, he said, “I have gotten a hotel and all the rest of it. What did I need the whole meshuggas for? I’m going to close down the magazine. I will go to Palestine and become a Jew. All these writers—empty heads, they have nothing to say. At fifty my grandfather woke up every night for the midnight prayers; Dr. Walden wants to seduce an heiress at sixty-five. His last letter was simply a song—the Song of Songs. And who needs his encyclopedia? That Frau Schuldiener is a fool, and in addition she plays the fool.”
    “Perhaps he would marry Frau Schuldiener.”
    “She’s over seventy. Already a great-grandmother. She was once a teacher in Frankfurt … in Hamburg—I have forgotten where. She copied her phrases from a book of standard love letters. Perhaps what I should do is get hold of a female who could play the role of Eleanor. How about the Yiddish actresses?”
    “All they can do is weep.”
    “Somewhere in New York there may be a true admirer of his—an old spinster who would be eager for such a match. But where do you find her? As for me, I’m tired of everything. That Friedel is educated enough but without any imagination. All she thinks about is Schlegel. Sarah is completely absorbed by her crazy daughter. They have a new custom—they send the patients home from the institutions and then they take them back again. One month she is there and the other with her mother. I sit with them and I begin to feel that I am not all there myself. Why am I telling you all this? Do me a favor and come with me to the airport. I will always remember it. Do you agree? Give me your hand. Together we’ll manage somehow. Let’s drink to it.”
    III

    I stood behind the glass partition and watched the passengers arriving. Liebkind Bendel was jittery, and the smoke from his cigar almost asphyxiated me. For some reason I was sure that Dr. Walden was a tall man. But he was short, broad, and fat, with a big belly and a huge head. On that hot summer day he wore a long coat, a flowing tie, and a plush hat with a broad brim. He had a thick gray mustache and was smoking a pipe. He carried two leather valises with old-fashioned locks and side pockets. His eyes under his heavy brows were searching for someone.
    Liebkind Bendel’s nervousness was contagious. He smelled of liquor, he purred like a tomcat. He waved his hands and cried, “Certainly that’s he. I recognize him. See how fat he has gotten—broader than he is long. An old billy goat.”
    When Dr. Walden came up on the escalator, Liebkind Bendel pushed me toward him. I wanted to run away but I couldn’t. Instead, I stepped forward. “Dr. Walden?”
    Dr. Walden put down his suitcases, removed the pipe from between his blackish teeth and set it, still lighted, in his pocket.
“Ja.”
    “Dr. Walden,” I said, in English, “I am a friend of Miss Eleanor Seligman-Braude. There was an accident. Her plane crashed.” I spoke hurriedly. I felt a dryness in my throat and palate.
    I expected a scene, but he just looked at me from under his bushy brows. He cupped his ear and answered me in German. “Would you mind repeating that? I cannot understand your American English.”
    “A misfortune has happened—a great misfortune.” Liebkind Bendel began to speak in Yiddish. “Your friend was flying from California and her plane fell down. It fell right into the sea. All passengers were killed—sixty persons.”
    “When? How?”
    “Yesterday—seventy innocent people—mostly mothers of children.” Liebkind Bendel spoke with a Galician accent and singsong. “I was her near friend and so was this young man. We had heard that you were arriving. We wanted to telegraph you, but it was already too late, so we came to greet you. It’s a great honor for us, but it’s heartbreaking to have to bring such terrible tidings.” Liebkind Bendel waved his arms; he shook and screamed into Dr. Walden’s ear as though he were deaf.
    Dr. Walden took off his hat and placed it on top of his luggage. He was bald in the front but at the back of his head he had a shock of graying blond hair. He took out a soiled handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. I had the feeling that he still did not