The Tanners

Three weeks later, liberated from all obligations, Simon stood in a narrow, steep, hot alleyway before a building, deliberating whether or not to go in. The noonday sun was blazing down, making the walls release their unsavory odors. Not the slightest breeze was stirring. Where in this alley could a breeze have slipped in? Out in the modern streets there might be breezes wafting, but in here it felt as if centuries had passed since a breath of air last breezed and blew. Simon had a small sum of money in his pocket. Should he board a train and travel to the mountains? Everyone was traveling to the mountains these days. Strange unfamiliar people, men and women, moved singly, in pairs, or little groups through the white bright streets. From the hats of the ladies, amusing veils fluttered down, and the men were going about in knee-length trousers and light-colored summer shoes. Oughtn’t he decide to follow these strangers to the mountains? Surely it would be cooler up there, and in a hotel perched high up on a peak he would surely find work. He might even play the role of tour guide, he was rugged enough for this, and also clever enough to say at the appropriate time: “Observe, ladies and gentlemen, this waterfall, or this scree, or this village, or this cliff face, or this blue shimmering river.” He’d have what it takes to depict a landscape in words for his traveling guests. He could also, should the circumstance arise, carry a fatigued and fearful Englishwoman in his arms when it came time to cross a pass just three shoe-lengths wide. Certainly he had a desire to do so. Oh yes, those American girls and Englishwomen: He’d learn to speak English, which to his mind was a sweet language that sounded like whispers and sighing, both gruff and soft.

But he didn’t go to the mountains, instead he went into this old, tall, thick, dark building in the alleyway, knocked at a door and asked a woman who came out to see who was knocking whether she had a room to let.

Indeed, she did.

He asked if he could have a look at it, and if it was a room — not too large, not too dear — suitable for a person without much money.

After she had showed him the room, the woman asked:

“What do you do?”

“Oh, nothing at all. I’m unemployed. But I’m going to look for work. Don’t be concerned. I’ll pay you this sum here in advance so you won’t have to worry too much. Here, take it.”

And he placed a rather large coin in her hand as prepayment. This was a plump female hand, and the woman, who was satisfied, said:

“Unfortunately the room isn’t sunny, it faces the alley.”

“All the better,” Simon replied, “I love shade. I’d hate to have the sun shining into my room just now in this warm season. The room is very nice, and, let me add, very cheap. It’s perfect for me. The bed appears to be good. Oh yes. Please. Let’s not poke about too much. Here is also a wardrobe that can hold more clothes than I possess, and here to my delighted astonishment I espy an armchair for comfortable sitting. Indeed, if a room has such an armchair to show for itself, it is, in my eyes, most opulently furnished. There’s even a picture hanging on the wall: I love when there’s only a single picture hanging in a room, you can observe it all the more closely. I see as well a mirror for examining my face. It’s a good one, it reflects my features clearly. Lots of mirrors distort the features they reflect when you look into them. This one is quite excellent. Here at this table I shall write my letters of application which I shall send off to various commercial firms in order to obtain a post. I hope I shall succeed in this. I can’t see why I shouldn’t, as I’ve had success so many times already. For your information, I’ve changed jobs many times now. This is an error that I hope I shall be able to correct. You are smiling! Yes, but it’s quite serious. With this room you’ve become, as it were, my benefactress, for it’s a room in which a person like me can feel happy. I shall always make an effort to observe my obligations toward you promptly.”

“I believe you will,” the woman said.

“At first,” Simon said, “I wanted to go to the mountains. But this shady room is more beautiful than even the whitest mountains. I’m feeling a bit tired and would like to lie down for an hour, may I?”

“Why, of course! It’s your room now!”

“Oh, surely not!”

And then he lay down for a nap.

He had a strange dream that pursued him for a long time after: