The Last Demon

singsong, gesticulated with her thumb, clutched her sidelocks, plucked at her beardless chin, made all the customary gestures of a yeshiva student. In the heat of argument she even seized Avigdor by the lapel and called him stupid. A great love for Anshel took hold of Avigdor, mixed with shame, remorse, anxiety. If I had only known this before, he said to himself. In his thoughts he likened Anshel (or Yentl) to Bruria, the wife of Reb Meir, and to Yalta, the wife of Reb Nachman. For the first time he saw clearly that this was what he had always wanted: a wife whose mind was not taken up with material things … His desire for Hadass was gone now, and he knew he would long for Yentl, but he dared not say so. He felt hot and knew that his face was burning. He could no longer meet Anshel’s eyes. He began to enumerate Anshel’s sins and saw that he too was implicated, for he had sat next to Yentl and had touched her during her unclean days.
Nu
, and what could be said about her marriage to Hadass? What a multitude of transgressions there! Wilful deception, false vows, misrepresentation! – Heaven knows what else.
    He asked suddenly: ‘Tell the truth, are you a heretic?’
    ‘God forbid!’
    ‘Then how could you bring yourself to do such a thing?’
    The longer Anshel talked, the less Avigdor understood. All Anshel’s explanations seemed to point to one thing: she had the soul of a man and the body of a woman. Anshel said she had married Hadass only in order to be near Avigdor.
    ‘You could have married me,’ Avigdor said.
    ‘I wanted to study the Gemara and Commentaries with you, not darn your socks!’
    For a long time neither spoke. Then Avigdor broke the silence: ‘I’m afraid Hadass will get sick from all this, God forbid!’
    ‘I’m afraid of that, too.’
    ‘What’s going to happen now?’
    Dusk fell and the two began to recite the evening prayer. In his confusion Avigdor mixed up the blessings, omitted some and repeated others. He glanced sideways at Anshel, who was rocking back and forth, beating her breast, bowing her head. He saw her, eyes closed, lift her face to Heaven, as though beseeching: You, Father in Heaven, know the truth … When their prayers were finished, they sat down on opposite chairs, facing one another yet a good distance apart. The room filled with shadows. Reflections of the sunset, like purple embroidery, shook on the wall opposite the window. Avigdor again wanted to speak but at first the words, trembling on the tip of his tongue, would not come.
    Suddenly they burst forth: ‘Maybe it’s still not too late? I can’t go on living with that accursed woman … You …’
    ‘No, Avigdor, it’s impossible.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I’ll live out my time as I am …’
    ‘I’ll miss you. Terribly.’
    ‘And I’ll miss you.’
    ‘What’s the sense of all this?’
    Anshel did not answer. Night fell and the light faded. In the darkness they seemed to be listening to each other’s thoughts. The Law forbade Avigdor to stay in the room alone with Anshel, but he could not think of her just as a woman. What a strange power there is in clothing, he thought.
    But he spoke of something else: ‘I would advise you simply to send Hadass a divorce.’
    ‘How can I do that?’
    ‘Since the marriage sacraments weren’t valid, what difference does it make?’
    ‘I suppose you’re right.’
    ‘There’ll be time enough later for her to find out the truth.’
    The maidservant came in with a lamp, but as soon as she had gone, Avigdor put it out. Their predicament and the words which they must speak to one another
could not endure light. In the blackness Anshel related all the particulars. She answered all Avigdor’s questions. The clock struck two, and still they talked. Anshel told Avigdor that Hadass had never forgotten him. She talked of him frequently, worried about his health, was sorry – though not without a certain satisfaction – about the way things had turned out with Peshe.
    ‘She’ll be a good wife,’ said Anshel. ‘I don’t even know how to bake a pudding.’
    ‘Nevertheless, if you’re willing …’
    ‘No, Avigdor. It wasn’t destined to be …’
VII
    It was all a great riddle to the town: the messenger who arrived bringing Hadass the divorce papers; Avigdor’s remaining in Lublin until after the holidays; his return to Bechev with slumping shoulders and lifeless eyes as if he had been ill. Hadass took to her bed and was visited by the doctor three times a