In Babylon. Marcel Moring
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Название: In Babylon
Автор: Marcel Moring
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Классическая проза
isbn: 9780007391714
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In the kitchen I laid the axe down on the counter and looked at the cold gleam on the blade. I picked it up and slowly turned it around. Then I lit the candle again, tucked the axe under my arm, and went to find Nina.
‘I’m home …’
I opened the hunting room door a hand’s-breadth and peered in through the crack. There was no answer. I pushed the door open a bit further. ‘Daddy’s ho-ome …’
The hunting room was empty. The yellowy candlelight glided across the walls and bed. Where Nina had been sitting the covers were rumpled, but she herself was nowhere to be seen. I walked inside and laid my hand on the bed. Cold. She must have been gone for a while now. She had probably left after I’d gone down into the cellar.
Why had she left without saying anything? What could possibly make her want to sneak back through the icy wind to her car, through a forest she barely knew? I blew out the candle, put the axe on the bed, and went into the hall. In the doorway, with the wind blowing me straight in the face, I peered out at the snow-covered stairs. Not a footstep in sight. I pulled my coat tighter around me, closed the door, and walked down the path, to the forest.
For half an hour I plodded through the white storm. Although it was much less windy among the trees, Nina’s footsteps had vanished. It wasn’t until I had reached the spot where we had left the car that I saw the first sign of her presence. Under the white film of snow that covered the path glimmered the tracks of a car that had backed out, turned, and disappeared, skidding, towards the bottom of the hill.
On the way back my feet went numb. It was as if my shoes were full of cement. Each time I took a step I felt the dull thud of something coming down too hard. I had left Nina alone while I went to look for wood and make a fire, and God knows we needed it, but now, on my third trek through the snow, as my feet and calves got soaked for the third time, I was beginning to reach the point where one is no longer cold, but scared. If my toes, fingers or ears froze, I would lose them. There was no chance of me reaching civilization on foot. I had to warm up, fast.
The last stretch I began to run, half stumbling, nearly falling, towards the house. For a moment, on the great white lawn, I rose up out of myself. I saw a tiny figure, swathed in black, fighting its way through the whiteness. The house stood motionless in the whirlpool of snow and the little man in the depths ran and ran and ran.
IN THE LIBRARY, by the fire, we ate with our plates on our laps. The Pinot Gris was at perfect cellar temperature and fragrant as a meadow in summer. The sauerkraut was steaming hot, but we were so hungry we gobbled it down.
‘Sauerkraut with mustard sauce and apples,’ Nina said after a while. ‘This is the first time you’ve ever cooked for me.’
‘You could be right.’
She sipped her wine, squinting slightly. ‘It’s delicious. I didn’t know you had it in you.’
I bowed my head in gratitude. ‘When I was a boy I used to cook for the whole family. I didn’t think Sophie was any good at it.’
‘And was that true?’
‘Was she good at it, you mean? Oh, she was alright. She’d just lost interest over the years. If you have to cook every day of the week, it’s no fun anymore.’
‘But you cooked every day, too. You just said so.’
‘It was different for me. I cooked so I could think up fairy tales.’
Nina had put her plate down on one of Uncle Herman’s mobile bookcases and was holding the glass of wine in her hand. ‘I think it’s time you told me why we’re here,’ she said.
‘Why we’re here? You’re here because you gave me a ride and can’t get back. Though you certainly did your damnedest to escape. I’m here because …’
‘Not the old Uncle Herman story again. What’s going on here?’
‘I don’t know, Nina, I have no idea.’
‘Then let me ask you something else. What were you just doing with that cup of water? What were you saying?’
Before we sat down to eat I had filled a cup with water and poured it out over my hands, three splashes over my right hand, three over my left. ‘The blessing over washing the hands and eating,’ I said. ‘A Jewish ritual.’
‘Never heard of it. I didn’t know you were religious.’
‘Religious … I’m not religious. I’m a sceptic.’
She looked annoyed. ‘So what’re you saying? You pray but you don’t believe in God?’
‘The berakhah, the blessing, isn’t praying. It’s talking to God.’
‘Whatever. If you ask me it’s like sitting on your bike and saying vroom-vroom.’
‘So?’
‘So it’s nonsense. It’s illogical.’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Sex is nonsense and illogical, too. For the preservation of the species it’s enough just to …’
‘Nathan, shut up. What’s the point of doing all that if you don’t believe in it?’
‘Because I don’t believe in believing. That’s what I call nonsense. But the rituals, the washing of hands, the berakhot over bread and wine, we’ve been saying them for centuries. They don’t serve any particular purpose. We only say them because we want to say them. It’s an exercise.’
‘Exercise?’
‘In self-perspective. In humility. In transcendence. When you say the berakhah over bread, you’re reminded of what a miracle our daily bread really is. You didn’t make it yourself. You didn’t till the land. You didn’t sow the seeds and reap the grain. You didn’t grind the wheat and bake bread with the flour. But it’s there.’
‘You worked for it. You bought it.’
‘But it’s still a miracle. People in other countries work for it, too, but they can’t get it.’
‘You’re a believer.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m a non-believer, through and through. I distrust every form of religion. But that doesn’t mean I don’t see what’s extraordinary about the world.’
‘The СКАЧАТЬ