howling dies down.
It’s quiet again. David turns away from the park, back to the others.
“You were sent by Gringo?”
She answers:
“Yes. He said that he would come later.”
They are silent then, the three of them standing there. The Jew approaches David.
“Do you recognize me?”
David looks down at the floor. She answers:
“He recognizes you.”
“You’re David, the stonemason.”
She replies, “Yes, that’s him.”
“I recognize him,” says the Jew.
David’s eyes are fixed on the floor.
“He’s gone blind,” says the Jew.
They do not answer.
“He’s become deaf.”
They do not answer.
The Jew approaches David.
“What are you afraid of?”
David looks up at the Jew and then back at the floor.
“What are you afraid of, David?” the Jew asks again.
The gentleness of his voice elicits a shudder from behind those heavy-lidded eyes. She answers:
“Nothing. He’s a member of Gringo’s Party.”
The Jew is silent. She asks:
“Do you know what that means?”
“Not for David,” says the Jew.
For the first time, Sabana looks right at him. He is looking at David.
“But for everyone else, you do?”
“Yes.”
A sudden exhaustion sweeps over the Jew.
“You were waiting for us?”
“Yes.”
He takes a step toward David. David doesn’t flinch. He comes closer. He lifts a hand. Gently touches David’s half-lidded eyes. He says:
“You’ve become blind.”
David jumps back. He cries out:
“Don’t touch me!”
David raises his hands, made swollen and cracked by working with stone, and says:
“Don’t do that again!”
She looks from one to the other without moving. She says nothing.
The Jew backs away. He returns to the chair he was occupying when they first came into the house, the one near the table.
“You’re not scared,” he says, “You have nothing at stake. Take off your coats. Sit. You’re not going anywhere.”
They remain as they are, erect, alert, near the door.
Calmly, she speaks.
“You don’t understand. We’ve come to watch you.”
“Watch me.”
“Don’t try to run away.”
“I won’t.”
“It’s not worth the trouble.”
David is silent. Sabana points out the Jew to David. She repeats what she said to the Jew.
“He knows it’s futile to try.”
“I do know,” says the Jew.
It’s Sabana who takes off her coat first. She puts it down near the door. She helps David with his coat.
Tucked into David’s belt is a gun.
They sit. Sabana pushes an armchair toward David. She sits in another chair.
The Jew is silent.
She sits up straight, looks around. She looks out at the road, the park, the cold. Everything is bathed in the same intense light, inside, outside. Nothing else is lit up. She looks over at the one sitting next to the table.
“We wait for daybreak,” he says.
Sabana’s eyes are blue—dark and blue.
“You’re Sabana.”
“Yes.”
The dogs howl in the dark park.
David listens to the dogs.
The howling dies down.
Silence.
David the mason reclines his head on the back of the chair, his hands draped along the armrests. He looks over at the far end of the room. He speaks.
“There’s someone else in the house.”
“It’s just me,” says the Jew.
“He’s here alone,” she says.
“The Jew,” says David.
“Yes. Don’t be afraid.”
She is still looking around. She is perched on the edge of her seat, still alert. Looking around.
“David has to work tomorrow morning. He has to sleep a little. If you try to run I’ll yell and he’ll wake up.”
“Let him sleep. You keep watch on me. And I’ll stay where I am, over here.”
Slumber settles on David. He looks over at the Jew.
She says:
“He’s falling asleep now.”
The Jew does not answer. Sabina speaks:
“The merchants’ police aren’t out tonight. Gringo made a deal with the merchants. They told him, ‘If you let us sell to the Greeks then we’ll give you Abahn the Jew.’ Gringo agreed. The police sleep tonight. The town is Gringo’s.”
The Jew does not answer, does not move.
“Are you going to try to run away?”
“No.”
The Jew’s exhaustion seems to grow.
“Why not?”
“I have no desire to save myself.”
They sit quietly for a moment. Sabana, alert, turns toward the frost-covered road.
David has closed his eyes.
“Why did you come to Staadt?”
The Jew shrugs his shoulders.
“To kill Gringo?”
“No.”
“Gringo is strong in Staadt. He runs the show with the merchants. He runs the government offices. He has his own police, army, guns. He’s been making the merchants afraid for a long time now. You understand?”
“The merchants of Staadt aren’t afraid of Gringo,” says the Jew.
“Since when?”
“For a long time. The merchants are afraid of the Jews.”
“And who is Gringo afraid of?”
“Gringo is afraid of the Jews.”
“Like the merchants?”
“You know that.”
“Yes,” Sabana looks at him.
“You don’t know what to do with yourself anymore, do you? So you came here?”
“Maybe