Read Online Hostage by Elie Wiesel - Free Book Online Page B

the chessboard, reflecting my mood. The pieces seemed to move of their own free will following an ever-changing strategy. Indifferent to propriety, the bishop laughed, the knight danced, the queen cried and the king, motionless and impassive, bit his lips as he waited for the near and distant future.
    The count had seen things accurately. The nightmare ended two days after his departure.
    Noisily busting the door open, an electric flashlight in one hand, a cocked machine gun in the other, a bearded giant, as big as a mountain bear, stepped in slowly and cautiously. He wore a padded winter jacket and a fur hat. On the hat was a five-pointed star. Suddenly he jumped near me and cried out orders in Russian, which I understood thanks to my Slavic acquaintances.
    “Are there any Germans here? Answer quickly.”
    “No,” I answered, “I’m all alone.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes. I’m all alone.”
    He searched the shadowy corners with his flashlight and settled on my frightened face.
    “You’re shaking with fear. What or who are you afraid of now that the Germans are gone? Don’t you see I’m your liberator?”
    “Yes, I do.”
    He noticed the chessboard.
    “You play chess?”
    “Yes.”
    “With who?”
    “All alone.”
    He examined the positions and said, “The black knight is clever. If I had time, I’d prove it to you, but the Red Army has other things in store for me. We’re on our way to Berlin. Hitler is kaput, even if his stupid soldiers don’t know it yet.”
    I smiled faintly.
    “You’re Jewish?” the Russian soldier asked.
    “Yes.”
    “That’s why you’re hiding?”
    “Yes.”
    “And what about your family? Where are they?”
    “I don’t know. They’ve all left me.”
    He handed me a piece of bread. “I’m Jewish too. My name is Piotr. What’s yours?”
    “Shalti.”
    “My Jewish name is Peretz. What’s yours?”
    “Shaltiel.”
    “Okay, my friend Shalti. You’re alive—that’s all that counts. Do you hear the shooting? They’re fighting in the nearby streets. Every building is being searched. They’ve already caught a German solider in civilian dress. No doubt there are others. It will all be over by tonight or tomorrow morning. You’ll be able to go home. I have to leave you now. But I’ll be back. I promise. But …” He cut himself short, surprised by his own ignorance. “Where’s home?”
    I burst out crying. “I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. I’m waiting for them, all of them. My parents … I don’t know where they are now or what happened to them. But I’m waiting for them.”
    The soldier put down his flashlight and patted me on the shoulder. “Okay, my little Jewish brother. I understand you. You don’t want to go back to an empty house. So wait here, upstairs. Do you want to?”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “Then good-bye, Shaltiel.”
    “Good-bye, Peretz.”
    He hesitated a minute, then added, “Be careful, my friend.When I’m with others, it’s best to forget my Jewish name. Call me Piotr.”
    He left, and I started sobbing again.
    Upstairs, I found the governess straightening up the place. Miraculously, the building had remained intact. I was more surprised than she. Without a word, she handed me a bowl of warm tea. I asked her if she had any news from the count. She hesitated before answering. I felt that my question made her ill at ease and irritated her.
    “No news. He left with the army and won’t be back. What about you? What are you going to do? Where are you going to live? Who will take care of you?”
    I had never seen her so talkative.
    “I think I’ll be going home soon,” I said. “But not right away. I’m waiting for someone who promised he’d come back to see me.”
    “Who’s that?”
    “His name is Piotr.”
    Her eyes fluttered nervously, and she shuddered when she heard the name. I wondered what she was so frightened of?
    “Who is he?” she whispered in a hoarse voice.
    “A soldier.”
    “A soldier!” she cried