Chapter 23 Emma Zunz

On January 14, 1922, Emma Zunz came home from work at the Tabuch-Louenthal textile factory and found a letter on the floor in the hallway, which was sent from Brazil. She immediately thought that her father was probably dead up.At first glance, the stamps and envelopes were unfamiliar, and the unfamiliar font made her uneasy.A dozen or so lines of large characters were scribbled on a page of letter paper; it was said that Mr. Meyer had accidentally taken an overdose of sleeping pills and died on the 3rd of this month at Baji Hospital.It was written to inform her by a man of the Rio Grande named Fein or Fine, who shared a room with her father, but did not know that the addressee was the dead man's daughter.

The letter fell from Emma's hand.Her first reaction was a stomachache and a feeling of weakness in her legs; then a vague sense of guilt and unreality, chills and fear in her body; then a wish for the day to pass.But she knew it was useless to think that way, because her father's death was the only thing she cared about in the whole world, now and forever.She picked up the letter and went into her room.She secretly hid the letter in the drawer, as if she already knew what was going to happen in the future.She may have vaguely seen this matter, and she has made up her mind. It was getting dark and Emma was doing nothing else that day but crying over Manuel Mayer's suicide.In the happy old days, Manuel Mayer was called Emanuel Zonzi instead of his present name.Emma thought of the summers she had spent in a villa near Gualguey, of (or rather of trying to remember) her mother, of their small house in Lanus that had been auctioned off, of a The diamond-shaped yellow glass on the window, thinking of the sentence, the humiliation, the anonymous letters cut and sent from the newspaper about "cash embezzlement", and (she will never forget this) her father swore on the last night It was Lowenthal who said embezzlement.Lowenthal, Alan Lowenthal, formerly the manager of the factory, is now one of the owners.Emma has kept this secret from 1916 until now, not telling anyone, not even her best friend Elsa Erstein.Maybe she thought that no one would believe her, so why bother herself, maybe she thought this secret was a link between her and her father who was far away in a foreign land.Lowenthal didn't understand that she knew the secret.There was nothing remarkable about this incident, but Emma Zonzi felt a sense of strength from it.

Emma didn't fall asleep that night, and when the morning light shone through the rectangular window, every detail of her plan had been considered and matured.The day seemed endless, but she did as she usually did.There were rumors in the factory that there was going to be a strike; Emma, ​​as usual, expressed her opposition to all acts of violence.After get off work at six, she and Elsa went to a women's club with a gym and swimming pool.They registered, and Emma repeated her name when she reported herself, spelling out the letters one by one; when checking, she parried some vulgar jokes about her rare surname.She discussed with Elsa and the youngest of the Kronves sisters which movie theater to go to on Sunday afternoon.The conversation turned to boyfriends, and no one expected Emma to intervene on the subject. She turned nineteen in April, but men still gave her an almost morbid fear... When she got home, she made a tapioca soup and some vegetables, had an early supper, and went to bed. sleep.The day before the incident, the 15th, Friday, passed away in such a busy and uneventful manner.

On Saturday, she woke up restless.It's impatience, not restlessness.There is also a strange feeling of relief that the day has finally come.She doesn't need to plan and imagine, she can act directly in a few hours.She read in the "News" that the steamer Polaris from Malmö, Sweden, was sailing at Pier 3 tonight.She called Lowenthal, hinted that she had some news about the strike that she wanted to tell him, and kept it out of the hands of the other workers, promising to meet him at the office in the evening.Her voice trembled, which fit her identity as an informer.There was nothing else worth mentioning that morning.Emma worked until twelve o'clock, and arranged with Elsa and Palla Kronves for the Sunday street.After lunch, she lay on the bed, closed her eyes, and went over the plans she had made.She thought the final stage of the plan less dreadful than the first, and she must have tasted victory and justice.Suddenly, in a panic, she got up from the bed, ran to the chest of drawers, and opened the drawer.The corporation's letter was under Milton Sears' picture, which she had hidden the night before.Sure no one would notice, she watched it again and tore it up.

It is difficult, and perhaps inappropriate, to give a truthful account of the events of that afternoon.One of the properties of hell is that it is unreal, and this property makes its horror seem to be lessened, but it may also be enhanced.How can a thing that even the parties concerned hardly believe that they will do it make others believe it?How could the ephemeral disturbances that Emma Zunz was unwilling to recall now, and which were confused at the time, be coherent?Emma lives near Via de la Rignier de Almagro, and we only know that she was in the port that afternoon.Perhaps she was grotesquely reflected in the window mirrors, glowing with neon lights, and made to feel naked by greedy eyes on a notorious Rue de Julio, but the more plausible guess is that she began Wandering among the inattentive crowd, unnoticed... She went into two or three bars to see what other women were doing and how they negotiated deals.She finally ran into the crew of the Polaris.One was very young, and she was afraid that she would arouse his pity and tenderness; the other might be shorter than her, with a rough appearance, but she thought it appropriate, so that the disgust would not be discounted.The little man led her through a door, through a dark hall, up a staircase, and another hall (a window with the same lozenge-shaped glass as in their old house in Lanus), Go through a passage, enter another door, and close the door.Serious events are timeless, either because the link between the past and the future is severed, or because the parts that make up the event seem disconnected.

At that moment outside of time, in that bewildering confusion of twilight and mixed emotions, did Emma Zonzi think for a moment of the dead who had prompted her mournful sacrifice?I guess I thought about it, and the moment I thought about it almost ruined her plan at all costs.She thought (impossibly not) of the horrible things she was going through, what her father had done to her mother before.She was a little taken aback at the thought, but drowsily put it behind her.The man was probably Swedish or Finnish and didn't speak Spanish.To him, Emma is nothing more than a tool; to Emma, ​​he is the same, but Emma is a tool for him to vent his desire, and he is Emma's means of revenge.

When Emma was left alone, she didn't open her eyes immediately.On the bedside table were the banknotes left by the man.Emma straightened her upper body and tore up the banknotes as she had done with the letter before.Destroying coins was as sinful as throwing away bread, and Emma immediately regretted it.But it was out of pride, and on a day when... the grief and nausea from the abuse of the body overwhelmed the fear.Sorrow and nausea clung to her, but she got up slowly and dressed.The room was dark, and the last light of dusk was gone.When Emma went out, no one would see her clearly, and she caught a westbound trolleybus at the corner.According to the predetermined plan, she sat in the front row so that no one could see her face.Pedestrians and vehicles on the street came and went listlessly. They didn't understand what she had just experienced, so she felt a little more at ease.In the few blocks she passed, the houses began to be low and the lights were not so bright. She looked and forgot without any impression, and finally got off at the intersection of Warners Street.Strange to say, the original fatigue turned into strength, because at this time, she was required to concentrate on realizing the details of the current adventure, and she could not think about the things just now and the future.

Alan Lowenthal was a serious man in public, and his love of money was known only to a few close friends.He lives alone upstairs in the factory.The factory is in the suburbs, and the neighborhood is relatively remote, so he is afraid of robbers; there is a big dog in the yard of the factory, and a pistol is often kept in the drawer of his desk. Everyone knows this.When his wife died suddenly last year (his wife was from the Goss family and brought him a considerable dowry), he also cried a few times in a serious manner, but it was money that really moved him.He was secretly ashamed that his ability to earn money was not as good as his ability to keep it.He is very devout and believes that he has a secret contract with God, as long as he prays and repents, he will not be punished for any wicked thing.Bald, fat, in mourning, with citrine spectacles and a yellow beard, he stood at the window waiting for the informant from Emma Zunz, the worker.

He saw Emma push open the iron gate that he had intentionally half-closed beforehand, and walk through the dark courtyard.He saw Emma make a small circle as the dogs on the leash barked.Emma's lips moved slightly, as if in a low voice of prayer; she repeated the words Mr. Lowenthal was about to hear before he died. The development of things is not the same as Emma Zunz expected.Since early yesterday morning, she has rehearsed many times in her mind: aiming the pistol firmly, forcing that despicable guy to confess his despicable crimes, and then uttering her bold strategy, using this strategy to let God's justice overcome the world's justice Justice (she is not afraid, but as a tool of justice, she is not willing to be punished).In the end, a single shot to Lowenthal's chest sealed his fate.However, that's not how it happened.

Seeing Alan Lowenthal, although Emma was eager to avenge her father, she was even more eager to punish the abuse she suffered because of revenge.After that vicious insult, she had to kill Lowenthal.Plus, she doesn't have time for a dramatic set.She sat timidly, said something apologetic, demanded a pledge of secrecy from Lowenthal like an informer, revealed a few names, mentioned a few others, then looked terrified and stopped talking. up.She asked Lowenthal to get her a glass of water.Lowenthal did not quite believe that she could be so frightened, but he put on a good-natured face and went to the dining room to fetch water for her.When he came back, Emma had taken the heavy pistol out of the drawer.She pulled the trigger twice.

The fat body fell as if broken by gunshots and smoke, the glass of water was broken, the face turned to Emma with surprise and anger, and the mouth on the face was written in Spanish. cursed her in slang and Yiddish.The swearing continued, and Emma had to fire another shot.The dog chained in the yard barked, and a stream of blood suddenly sprang from its foul-mouthed mouth, staining his beard and clothes red.Emma began to speak the accusation that had been prepared ("I avenged my father, no one can punish me..."), she did not finish, because Mr. Lowenthal had died.I don't know if he understood. The barking of the dog reminded Emma that it was not time to rest.She messed up the couch, unbuttoned the corpse's clothes, removed the blood-spattered glasses, and put them on the card case.Then, she picked up the phone and repeated the words she had practiced many times.Something unexpected happened... Mr. Lowenthal called me here under the pretext of wanting to know about the strike... He raped me, I killed him... This matter is indeed unimaginable, but people cannot believe it, because the facts are there.Emma Zunz's tone of voice, her anger, her hatred were all real.She was indeed spoiled; it was only the background, the time, and a name or two that were false.