The Collected Stories

with that woman. It looks as if you’re telling her jokes from the way she keeps on laughing. My husband sat next to her one time before she monopolized you, and she told him things no decent woman would tell a stranger. I suspect she is a madam of a whorehouse in Turkey. Or something like that. No respectable woman wears so much jewelry. You can smell her perfume a mile away. I’m not even sure that this boy is her son. There seems to be some kind of unnatural relationship between them.”
    “Madam Weyerhofer, what are you saying?”
    “I’m not just pulling things out of the air. God has cursed me with eyes that see. I say ‘cursed’ because this is for me a curse rather than a blessing. If you absolutely must take a bath, as you call it, do it and satisfy yourself, but be careful—such a person can easily infect you with God knows what.”
    Just at that moment the door across the hall opened and I saw Mrs. Metalon in a splendid nightgown and gold-colored slippers. Her hair was loose; it fell to her shoulders. She was made up, too. The women glared at each other furiously; then Mrs. Metalon said, “Where did you go? I’m in 48, not 43.”
    “Oh, I made a mistake. Truly, I’m completely mixed up. I’m terribly sorry—”
    “Go take your bath!” Mrs. Weyerhofer said and gave me a light push. She muttered words in French I didn’t understand but knew to be insulting. She slammed her own door shut.
    I turned to Mrs. Metalon, who asked, “Why did you go to her, of all people? I waited and waited for you. There is no more hot water anyhow. And where has Mark vanished to? He went for a walk and hasn’t come back. This night is a total loss to me. That woman—what’s her name? Weyerhofer—is a troublemaker, and crazy besides. Her own husband admitted that she’s emotionally disturbed.”
    “Madam, I’ve made a terrible mistake. Mark wrote down your room number for me, but while changing my clothes I lost the slip. It’s all because I’m so tired—”
    “Oh, will that red-haired bitch malign me before everyone on the bus now! She is a snake whose every word is venom.”
    “I truly don’t know how to excuse myself. But—”
    “Well, it’s not your fault. It was Mark who cooked up this stew. The driver told me to keep it secret that we’re getting a bathroom. He doesn’t want to create jealousy among the passengers. Now he’ll be mad at me and he’ll be right. I can’t continue this trip any longer. I’ll get off with Mark in Madrid and take a train or plane back to the border or maybe even to Paris. Come in for a moment. I’m already compromised.”
    I went inside, and she took me to the bathroom to show me that the hot water was no longer running. The bathtub was made of tin. It was unusually high and long. On its outside hung a kind of pole with which to hold in and let out the water. The taps were copper. I excused myself again and Mrs. Metalon said, “You’re an innocent victim. Mark is a genius, but like all geniuses he has his moods. He was a prodigy. At five he could do logarithms. He read the Bible in French and remembered all the names. He loves me and he is determined to have me meet someone. The truth is, he’s seeking a father. Each time I join him during vacations he starts looking for a husband for me. He creates embarrassing complications. I don’t want to marry—certainly not anyone Mark would pick out for me. But he is compulsive. He gets hysterical. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I have a good reason to say it—when I do something that displeases him, he abuses me. Later he regrets it and beats his head against the wall. What can I do? I love him more than life itself. I worry about him day and night. I don’t know exactly why you made such an impression on him. Maybe it’s because you’re a Jew, a writer, and from America. But I was born in Ankara and that’s where my home is. What would I do in America? I’ve read a number of articles about America, and that’s not the country for me. With us, servants are cheap and I have friends who advise me on financial matters. If I left Turkey, I would have to sell everything for a song. I tell you this only to point out there can never be anything between us. You would not want to live in Turkey any more than I want to live in New York. But I don’t want to upset Mark and I therefore hope that for the duration of the trip you can act friendly toward me—sit with us at the table and all the rest. When the tour