Читать книгу Chasing the King of Hearts - Ханна Кралль - Страница 7

The Zachęta Guest House

They take a local train. She opens the window and warm, spring-like air flows inside. The train passes Józefów. She points out the road the old peasant wagon used to take coming from town. You can see how it follows the tracks. Always around this time of year. That’s where it turned behind the trees. You can’t see the houses from the train. The one with the big porch belongs to the Szwarcwalds. The wagon would drive up and the servant girl would unload all the baskets packed with linens, summer clothes, pots, buckets, brushes. Then she’d fetch water from the well and scrub the floors. At the end of summer the same wagon would drive back in from town and the servant girl would load up all the baskets packed with linens, pots, brushes. There used to be a sandy glade in the woods, not far off, with an old oak tree. No, of course you can’t see the tree. It always had so many acorns.

She talks and talks, hoping the words will drown out her fear, as well as her embarrassment and curiosity. They get off at Otwock, the end of the line. A group of older boys scramble out of the next carriage, all very serious and conspiratorial, probably scouts. Their leader issues a few quiet commands—fall in, compasses, northeast—and the column fades into the woods. A freckle-faced boy with a broad smile brings up the rear.

The Zachęta guest house smells of warm pine. Inside the room, Shayek clearly knows what to do with a woman who’s as eager as she is afraid, as curious as she is embarrassed. Later that afternoon they head back, stopping to rest under a tree. She lays her head on his lap. They hear a chorus of voices, not very loud, singing a scouting song: Hur-rah hur-rah, hoo-ray hoo-ray! As long as we can, let’s seize the day!—the boys from the next carriage are also returning to the station. The freckle-faced boy again brings up the rear, but he isn’t singing; maybe he doesn’t have the voice for it. The boy notices them. Hey, he shouts, take a look at this, the Yids are making love. The boy snickers, then turns around and catches up with his colleagues. Izolda keeps her eyes closed and whispers: Your hair is so blond and your skin is so light, but they could tell. He drapes her sweater around her shoulders. She hadn’t realized it had slipped, exposing the armband with the blue star.