CYRILLE FLEISCHMAN
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man loved and respected everywhere else, his wife and children were wait–
ing for him in the grandest palace on the Riviera, and here he was of no
interest to anyone! He stood up, nervously took a few steps toward the spot
where he used to chant ten years ago. The president and secretary weren't
even looking at him any more. Tonski gripped the edges of the stand.
Firmly! Desperately! For a few moments he swayed wi thout saying a word,
then began to sing. To himself at first, then louder, very loud. Since they
couldn't care less about his money, his success, everything, he'd show them
what a voice they had los
t!
And, indeed, it was magnificent. Anger
increased the passion. Tonski's voice challenged heaven and earth.
The president and secretary interrupted their work to listen. When he
finished, the president rose, came towards him and said only:
"Tonski, if you wouldn't have left here, you might have become a great
chazan! Talent you have. .."
Tonski took out his silk pocket handkerchief to wipe a drop of sweat
from his cheek. He shook his head, not knowing what to answer. The pres–
ident added:
"Talent you have, what's missing is patience."
He slapped him on the shoulder and went back to the little table with
the papers. From there he tossed out a further opinion:
"To truly be 'somebody,' success is not enough! You need patience!
This shul, you think it runs on genius? With people like Einstein,
Rothschild, Chagall or George Ulmer? No, it runs on imbeciles like me,
like the secretary, like the treasurer and his marinated herrings. It runs
because we take care of bills, floors, receipts, water damage..."
And he added for himself and for the listening angels:
"Patience! Nothing but patience is what makes the world run."
Translated from the French
by
Avriel Goldberger
