74
PARTISAN REVIEW
difficulty. The shop assita nLs, silling on th eir ladders in dull amaze–
menL, had dreams of retaliation and thought of reckless pursuit a long
the shel ves with a lea ther Ayswa ller, and their eyes became bloodshot.
The canvas bl ind over the shop enLrance wa s flappi ng furio usly, the
afternoon hea t hung over mil es o f sun-drenched plain, devastating the
di stant world undernea th it, and in th e semiobscurity o f the shop,
under the dark ceiling, my fa ther hopeless ly circl ed and circled,
enmeshin g himself ti ghter and ti ghter in the despera te zigzags o f his
fli ght.
III
Yet, in spite of a ll the ev idence to th e contrary, such ep isodes were
of no grea t importance for, tha t same evening, my father was poring as
usual over hi s papers, and the in cidenL seemed to be long forgo tten , the
deep grudge overcome and erased. We, of course, refrained from any
a llusion
La
il. We looked with pleas ure as, with seemin g eq uanimit y,
in peaceful concentration , he industri o usly covered page after page
with hi s calli graphi ca ll y precise writing. Instead, it became ever more
difficult
La
forget the compromi si ng presence o f the poor peasanl.
It
is
well known how stubborn ly such unfinished business becomes rooted
in certa in minds. We igno red him on purpose during these empty
weeks, leaving him
La
stamp on the counter in the dar k corn er, daily
becoming sma ll er and grayer. Almost unnoti ceable now, he was still
stamping away on the same spo t, sm iling benevo lentl y, hunched over
tht' counter, indefati ga bl e, cha ltering softly
La
himse lf. The stamping
and knocking became hi s true vocation, in which he was completely
l'I1grossed. We did no t interfere with him. He had gone too far; we
cou ld no t reach him now.
Summer days have no dusk. Befo re we knew where we were, ni ght
would
come
to the shop, a large o il lamp was lit and shop affa irs
continued. During these sho rt summer ni ghts it was no t worth return–
ing home. My fa ther usua ll y sa t at hi s desk in apparenL concenLrat ion
and marked the margi ns of lelters with black scallered sta rs, ink spo ts,
ha ir
lin l'~,
which circl ed in hi s field of vision, atoms of darkness
detached from the g rea t summer night behind th e willdows. T he ni ght
meanwhile sca ttered like a puffball a microcosm of shadows under the
g lo be of the lamp. Fath er was blinded as his spectacles rd1ccted the
lamp. He was waiting, waiting with impatience and li stening whil e he
~l<Ired
a t th e whiteness of the paper through whi ch flowed (h e dark
