THE LAST MOHICAN
179
not rich. In fact, I'm poor. Don't let a few new clothes deceive you.
lowe my sister money for them."
Susskind glanced down at his shabby, baggy knickers. "I haven't
had a suit for years. The one I was wearing when I ran away from
Gennany fell apart. One day I was walking around naked."
"Isn't there a welfare organization that could help you out–
some group in the Jewish community, interested in refugees?"
"The Jewish organizations wish to give me what they wish, not
what I wish," Susskind replied bitterly. "The only thing they offer
me is a ticket back to Israel."
"Why don't you take it?"
"I told you already, here I feel free."
"Freedom is a relative term."
"Don't tell me about freedom."
He knows all about that, too, Fidelman thought. "So you fed
free," he said, "but how do you live?"
Susskind coughed, a brutal cough.
Fidelman was about to say something more on the subject of
freedom but left it unsaid. Jesus, I'll be saddled with
him
all
day
if
I don't watch out.
"I'd better be getting off to the hotel." He bent again for
his
bag.
Susskind touched him on the shoulder and when Fidelman exas–
peratedly straightened up, the half dollar he had given the man was
staring him in the eye.
"On
this
we both lose money."
"How do you mean?"
"Today the lira sells six-twenty-three on the dollar, but for specie
they
only give you five hundred."
"In that case, give it here and I'll let you have a dollar." From
his
billfold Fidelman quickly extracted a crisp bill and handed it
to
the refugee.
"Not more?" Susskind sighed.
"Not more," the student answered emphatically.
"Maybe you would like to see Diocletian's Bath? There are
lOIlle enjoyable Roman coffins inside. I will guide you for another
dollar."
"No thanks." Fidelman said goodbye, and lifting the suitcase,
