Chapter 43 Chapter Forty-Two

The apartment and the whole house in which Natalie, mother and son and her uncle were hiding were owned by a plumber named Itchak.Mendelsohn.He was a Polish Jew who had come to Marseilles in the twenties and managed his business very well.His shop did plumbing for municipal buildings; he spoke French in a squeak; he knew magistrates, police chiefs, bank managers, and the most powerful outlaws in the area.That's what Rabinowitz told Natalie.Mendelssohn was not a member of the Resistance, and the Jews who spent the night on the couch in his guest room or sprawled out on the floor were not the underground activists that the German Gestapo and the French police were looking for.They were poor wretches, insignificant drifters like Jastrow and Nathalie, who had no official papers to stay in Marseilles or legally leave France.

It was a surprisingly large room, for Mendelssohn had broken through the partitions to link several apartments together, forming such a maze of crowded boarding houses, where Louis was always accompanied by a group of loud Yiddish-speaking people. The screaming children slipped out and disappeared in the dim corridors.There were also two other younger couples living here, relatives who had fled the Mendelssohn family.It was hard for Natalie to tell who was passing by and who lived here, but it didn't really matter.The common language in this house is Polish-Yiddish; to tell the truth, the plumber owner is quite proud of a Yiddish historical romance he wrote as a boy in Warsaw, which tells the story of The fake savior Shabatai.Ziwei's story.He had apparently paid for it to be translated into French, because the small room where Jastrow, Natalie, and Louis now lived was lined with copies of The Counterfeit Messiah bound in yellow covers.Natalie flipped through it and thought it was outrageously written, but for a plumbing renovation boss, it was not bad.Ellen, by virtue of his pure and pure Yiddish, was of course familiar with the whole Mendelssohn family; and because he was a great writer, he was immediately regarded as a guest of honour.Louis has a bunch of hot kids to play with, and Natalie's stuttering Yiddish is manageable.So in general, here is a warm, lively, familiar and informal place to stay.Whenever she thought of this, she felt that she was very grateful to Pascal.Gaffrey, it was he who had driven her to this Jewish oasis in Marseilles to wait for her freedom.

She didn't realize it at first.On the third night of their arrival, the police were going door to door searching the neighborhood in order to catch foreign Jews.Mendelssohn had been tipped off by high-ranking friends, and he informed all the Jews he knew; he assured Natalie and Ellen that no one would come into his house and ask questions.In the middle of the night, she heard panicked voices in the room facing the street, and she jumped out of bed to check.Peeping through the curtains with others, she saw a docile crowd standing around the two police cars, almost like bystanders in a car accident, except that they had travel bags with them, and there were many babies among them. .A handful of gendarmes watched as they quietly climbed into the police van.There was only one small oddity, some people had the hem of their pajamas, the hem of their pajama trousers, and even bare feet showing through their overcoats.Mendelssohn was right that the police never entered his threshold.The police car drove away, leaving only the empty long street under the blue light of the street lights, and Natalie was terrified.

She brightened up the next day, when Rabinowitz himself brought the news that the American Consul General was expected to be back from Vichy in a day or two.Rabinowitz said Jim.Gaiser was a man of his word, a man of integrity, and an official with money and authority when dealing with the Resistance.Since he took office at the consulate here, hundreds of people have obtained visas. If they hadn't met him, these people would never have been able to leave.Geiser admired "Jesus of a Jew" with all his heart, and he was in charge of the files of Uncle Jastrow-Henry's nephew, in case any news leaked out.No second person in the consulate knew about it.As long as Gayser returned to Marseilles, they could be sure to move quickly.

When it comes to the Castelnuovos, Rabinowitz is less sanguine.The doctor, who didn't listen to good words, negotiated with the two Bastia ruffians who smuggled them out of Elba, and managed to get to Algiers, Rabinowitz said, if it wasn't for dealing with old man Gaffery , these guys are unreliable, even dangerous.He wanted the Castelnuovos to stay where they were until a safer route of escape appeared. Corsica is a good hideaway where you can eat and drink.But Dr. Castelnuovo became obsessed and insisted on going as soon as possible. "For the time being it's luck that he can't afford the price those two thugs are asking for," Rabinowitz said.

"So they might stay. I hope so." Byron to Sam.When Jones returned to Marseilles with another briefcase, the vice-consul told him that Gayser had returned; Said: "Great!" "He wants you to report to his office immediately. Second floor, you'll see the writing on the door," Jones said. "Not to be mistaken, those are his words. Is he an old friend of your family, or something?" "I don't know," Byron replied, putting on the greatest nonchalance he'd ever done in his life. "Tell him I'll be right there." He jumped up the stairs to the second floor.

"Excellent!" said the Consul General, standing up and extending his hand across the desk. "D'Artagnan!" In a yellow woolen sweater and gray slacks, he looked like a professional tennis player, with a tall, muscular body, and short, straight, snow-white hair.Byron blurted out and asked, "Where are they?" "What? Sit down." Such an impatient question made the Consul General laugh. "They're in Corsica. Last I heard, they're there. They're fine, three of them. How did you get here?" "Corsica!" Byron opened his mouth. "Corsica! Almighty God, so close? How do I get there? Is there a boat? Is there an airplane?"

Gaisel laughed again, a very comfortable laugh. "Don't get excited, lad." "Did you say they were good? Have you seen them7" "I've been watching. They're safe. No planes to Corsica. Three ships a week, eleven hours' journey. They're leaving for Lisbon in a few days, Lieutenant, and—" "They're leaving for Lisbon? That's very good, sir. Are you sure? I've got orders to go back to America. I'm entitled to priority air travel, and maybe I can take them with me." "Maybe." Gaisel shook his head and smiled. "You're really capable. Aren't you on the submarine? How did you get to Gibraltar again?"

"Can I speak to them? Is there a Corsica line here?" "I don't encourage you to do that." Gaisel leaned back in his chair, pursing his lower lip. "Well, Sam Jones has some urgent business for you. You have to go back to Gibraltar tonight. Sam is taking you to my house for dinner about six o'clock. How about it? Let's have another long talk. I Again, they're fine, they're fine, and they'll be out of here in a few days. By the way, Sam doesn't know anything about it. Nobody does. And it's going to go on." Byron couldn't help gripping his hand tightly. "thanks."

"Very well. Have firm faith. Don't be impatient." Jones handed Byron two sealed envelopes and asked him to send them to an unspecified place by hand.A silent, ghostly pale young man, wearing a torn sweater, drove a dilapidated taxi to take him out of the city, galloping along the coast, his eyes kept glancing at the rearview mirror of the car.The car drove for an hour, and at the end it was a section of potholed dirt road, leading to a small villa with a view of the blue calm sea. The bushes were overgrown and the vines were dense, almost completely covering the house.A wary woman came out at Byron's knock and opened the door ajar.Behind her he could see a tall bearded man looking warily toward the door, his hands in the pockets of his red dressing gown.So he clearly met Henry.General Giraud; although he did not know for what purpose he was a courier traveling to and fro, nor what his Who is seen.It was past five o'clock when he returned to the consulate.sam.Jones wiped his eyes, yawned, and said to him, "Come to the Boss's right away? He's waiting to give you dinner."

Natalie put on a white dress for Friday dinner, and Louis in his cleanest shirt and smock.Rabinowitz was coming too, and she was going with him to his apartment in the Old Town after dinner.It hadn't even occurred to her that she'd offered to go and see it the last time she'd been chatting with him in the noisy sitting-room.She just wanted to have a private meeting with him, so that she could speak calmly and quietly.However, her love affair with Slote had arose since the last time she had asked to visit a man's apartment; so the idea unnerved her a little too late.She made a fool of herself, and put on her dress the amethyst brooch that Byron had given her in Warsaw. This evening she did something she had never done in her life; she lit the liturgical candles.Mrs. Mendelssohn was a lively, ruddy woman.She kept up the chores endlessly, and was always cheerful and beaming.When she came to tell her that the candles were set, it seemed more proper in the case to obey than to say goodbye.The children, clean and neatly dressed as if they had been scrubbed, huddled around their mother and around the long dining table.Eight candlesticks were placed on the newly replaced snow-white tablecloth.Natalie wore a turban on her head, lit two cheap candles with a match, and muttered prayers in Hebrew. Louis looked at her with wide-eyed eyes, and she felt really uncomfortable.Mrs. Mendelssohn touched her twice with her elbow and joked cordially to everyone: "Look, we are going to train her to be a good wife of the rabbi." Natalie smiled shyly along with everyone. While everyone was feeding the children first, Rabinowitz came.The room was full of children yelling, and he said, "Jim Gaiser is back. I couldn't find him at the consulate. I'm going to see him again in the morning. That's better news than diamonds." The children swarmed out, and inside the dining room the adults took their seats at the rearranged tables.Rabinowitz had just sat down beside Natalie when the doorbell rang.Mendelssohn went to answer the door.He came back and patted Rabinowitz on the shoulder, and Rabinowitz got up and walked away without a word.He used to come and go like a ghost, and no one made a comment.The seat next to Natalie was vacant.A total of twelve people enjoyed the meal, including several newcomers who had been starving for a long time.Dishes were clearly from the black market: smoked fish, fish soup, boiled chicken, the bones of which were smashed to pieces by a few passers-by.Several bottles of the fiery sweet potato liquor have been served, Ellen.Jastrow drank more than his fair share. Since Ellen came here, she has been babbling endlessly during meals, and even Mendelssohn is willing to bow down.He is in good spirits tonight.The conversation turned to Isaac's sacrifice, since it was part of the liturgical passage tonight.Mendelssohn's son-in-law, a brash atheist named Werwell, was also Mendelsohn's business partner, characterized by his shaggy red hair and violent thoughts.Wellwell thinks this passage shows the Jewish God as an imagined Asian tyrant, and that the man who wrote the book was a Bronze Age savage.Ellen spoke calmly and refuted Wellwell. "This story is about Abraham, not God. Don't you know that, Wellwell? Even a pagan like Kirkegaard knows that. If you have time, you might as well look at the " Horror and Trembling". People at the time of the old man Abraham burned children and sacrificed them to their gods. This has been confirmed by archaeology. Yes, Abraham took up the knife. Why? Represents that he worships God no less than the pagans worship their bloodthirsty idols. He has no doubt that God will tell him to let go of the knife and not hurt the boy. This is the main theme of the whole story. " "Fantastic," said Mendelssohn, reaching for a large round black hat on his white hair. "Excellent explanation. I must read Kilkegard." "But," muttered Welwell, "if God hadn't ordered the old madman to put down the knife?" "Then the Bible would have been written only up to the twenty-second chapter of Genesis," Ellen retorted, smiling. "Then there would be no Jews, no Christianity, and no modern world. Children continue to be killed to this day. But you also know that God did ask him to lay down the knife. This is a true fact that defines the West. The direction civilization is headed. God wants our love, not the ashes of our children." "A lot of despondent words," said Mrs. Mendelssohn, rising hastily to clear the dishes. "Burn the children, kill a boy! Fuck you! Wellwell, play us something nice." Verwell fetched the guitar and played a liturgical hymn, which everyone sang.Playing an instrument was against the canons, and even Natalie knew that.Everything turned upside down at the Mendelssohn's house.The women cleared the table and brought tea and coarse cakes, and the singers sang a ditty about a rabbi like old King Cole who sent for the fiddlers, drummers, and blowers. The flutes and so on, they sang happily.Natalie joined the women in the kitchen to clean the pots and pans before the power went out.In the dining room, Welwell played an old lullaby: "Raisins and Almonds."Ellen now sang the tune alone; he prided himself on his knowledge of all the Yiddish poetry.Ellen's recurring nonsense refrain to soft guitar accompaniment thrilled Natalie and brought back vivid memories of her childhood: babies sleeping in cradles, There is a white goat underneath. Whatever the little goat does, the baby will do it too when he grows up.Raisins and almonds, go to sleep, baby. She heard the door outside opening and closing.Avran.Rabinowitz appeared at the kitchen door, a smile on his pale face. "Natalie?" She went to the door, drying her hands on her apron.The aisle still smelled of Sunday dinner, and the lights on the wall brackets shone obliquely on Byron in a gray raincoat, carrying a large traveling bag in one hand and a leather briefcase in the other.Natalie was so startled that she almost lost her legs.His appearance has changed a lot, but it is absolutely true, it is him. "Hi, baby," Byron said.