Read Online History by Elsa Morante, Lily Tuck, William Weaver - Free Book Online Page A
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its beam! At the thought of having to declare publicly her fatal secret, which she had always hidden as something infamous, she
40 H I S T O R Y . . . . . . 1 9 - -
promptly said to herself : it's impossible. Since she never saw the news papers or listened to the radio anymore, she suspected the famous decree was by now promulgated and already in eff (whereas, in reality, no racial decree had so far been issued ); and indeed, she became convinced, in her isolation, that the time-limit for reporting oneself was already up. She was careful, all the same, not to make inquiries or, worse, present herself at City Hall. As each new day dawned, she repeated : it's impossible, spending the hours then in this constant fear, until the city offi closing-time, only to fi herself, the next day, with the same obsessive problem. In her rooted conviction that she was already late, and hence subject to all sorts of unknown sancti she began to fear the calendar, dates, the sun's daily rising. And though the days went by without any suspect sign, she lived every moment from then on in the expectati of some forthcoming, terrible event. She expected to be summoned to the city offi to explain her transgression, then publicly given the lie, charged with perjury Or else someone from City Hall or Police Headquarters would come looking for her; she might even be arr
She no longer left the house, not even for her daily needs, which she asked the concierge's wife to buy for her. One morning, however, when the woman showed up at the door for her list, Nora drove her off with bestial cries, hurling a cup she had in her hand. But people suspected nothing and had always esteemed her, so they forgave her these shrewish moods, attrib uting them to gri for her husband.
She began to suff hallucinations. Her blood, ri wi eff to her brain, would pound and roar in her hardened arteri and she would think she heard violent blows in the street, hammering at the front door, foot steps or heavy breathing on the stairs. At evening, if .she suddenly turn on the electric light, her failing eyesight transformed the furn and its shadows into the moti ss shapes of informers or armed police who had come to take her by surprise and arrest her. And one night when, for the second time, she happened to fall out of be in her sleep, she imagined one of these men, having entered by stea had thrown her to the ground, and was still roaming about the house.
She thought of leaving Cosenza of moving somewhere else. But where? And to whom? Padua, with her few Jewish relatives, was impos sible. At her daughter's in Rome, or at her in-laws', down in the country below Reggio, her alien presence would be more noticeable than ever, would be recorded, and would compromise the others too. And be
how could she impose the intrusion of a neurasthenic, haunted old woman on those who already had so many worries and torments of their own? She had never asked anything of anyone; she had been independent, since her
4 1
girlhood. She always remembered two verses heard in the Ghetto, from an aged rabbi :
Unhappy the man who needs other men! Happy the man who needs only God.
Why not leave then for some other city or anonymous town, where no one knew her? But, in any place, she would have to report her presence, pro duce her papers. She pondered escaping to a foreign country, where there were no racial laws. But she had never been abroad, had no passport; and acquiring a passport meant, again, questions at the registry office, the police, the frontiers : all places and rooms denied her, menacing, as if to an outlaw.
She was not poor, as perhaps everyone believed. Through those years (precisely to guarantee her own future independence, in the case of illness or other unforeseen eventualities ) she had habitually put aside, little by little, some savings which now amounted to three thousand lire. This sum, in three one-thousand bills, was sewn into a handkerchief which at night she kept under
40 H I S T O R Y . . . . . . 1 9 - -
promptly said to herself : it's impossible. Since she never saw the news papers or listened to the radio anymore, she suspected the famous decree was by now promulgated and already in eff (whereas, in reality, no racial decree had so far been issued ); and indeed, she became convinced, in her isolation, that the time-limit for reporting oneself was already up. She was careful, all the same, not to make inquiries or, worse, present herself at City Hall. As each new day dawned, she repeated : it's impossible, spending the hours then in this constant fear, until the city offi closing-time, only to fi herself, the next day, with the same obsessive problem. In her rooted conviction that she was already late, and hence subject to all sorts of unknown sancti she began to fear the calendar, dates, the sun's daily rising. And though the days went by without any suspect sign, she lived every moment from then on in the expectati of some forthcoming, terrible event. She expected to be summoned to the city offi to explain her transgression, then publicly given the lie, charged with perjury Or else someone from City Hall or Police Headquarters would come looking for her; she might even be arr
She no longer left the house, not even for her daily needs, which she asked the concierge's wife to buy for her. One morning, however, when the woman showed up at the door for her list, Nora drove her off with bestial cries, hurling a cup she had in her hand. But people suspected nothing and had always esteemed her, so they forgave her these shrewish moods, attrib uting them to gri for her husband.
She began to suff hallucinations. Her blood, ri wi eff to her brain, would pound and roar in her hardened arteri and she would think she heard violent blows in the street, hammering at the front door, foot steps or heavy breathing on the stairs. At evening, if .she suddenly turn on the electric light, her failing eyesight transformed the furn and its shadows into the moti ss shapes of informers or armed police who had come to take her by surprise and arrest her. And one night when, for the second time, she happened to fall out of be in her sleep, she imagined one of these men, having entered by stea had thrown her to the ground, and was still roaming about the house.
She thought of leaving Cosenza of moving somewhere else. But where? And to whom? Padua, with her few Jewish relatives, was impos sible. At her daughter's in Rome, or at her in-laws', down in the country below Reggio, her alien presence would be more noticeable than ever, would be recorded, and would compromise the others too. And be
how could she impose the intrusion of a neurasthenic, haunted old woman on those who already had so many worries and torments of their own? She had never asked anything of anyone; she had been independent, since her
4 1
girlhood. She always remembered two verses heard in the Ghetto, from an aged rabbi :
Unhappy the man who needs other men! Happy the man who needs only God.
Why not leave then for some other city or anonymous town, where no one knew her? But, in any place, she would have to report her presence, pro duce her papers. She pondered escaping to a foreign country, where there were no racial laws. But she had never been abroad, had no passport; and acquiring a passport meant, again, questions at the registry office, the police, the frontiers : all places and rooms denied her, menacing, as if to an outlaw.
She was not poor, as perhaps everyone believed. Through those years (precisely to guarantee her own future independence, in the case of illness or other unforeseen eventualities ) she had habitually put aside, little by little, some savings which now amounted to three thousand lire. This sum, in three one-thousand bills, was sewn into a handkerchief which at night she kept under
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