The Dogs and the Wolves by Irène Némirovsky Read Free Book Online

grandfather’s books for the first time. She hadn’t yet started high school as she’d been ill when the admission tests were held, but a first-year student gave her lessons in exchange for lunch and two pairs of shoes per year. She was a good student; she even displayed a quick, insightful mind, less critical or assertive than Ben’s, but which nonetheless annoyed Aunt Raissa.
    ‘Why,’ she would ask bitterly, ‘are Jewish children either too dim or too intelligent? Lilla thinks like an eight-year-old and Ben replies to the slightest observation like an old man. And now Ada’s copying him. Why can’t they just be like everyone else, not smarter and not more stupid?’
    But no one had an answer to that.
    Her grandfather’s books were works in Russian and translations of English, German and French classics. An entire universe, hitherto unknown, opened before Ada, a world whose colours were so dazzling that reality paled in comparison and faded away. Boris Godunov, Satan, Athalia, King Lear: they all spoke words charged with meaning; every syllable was inexpressively precious. How could the inane, monotonous words her relatives spoke be of any interest whatsoever, those bits of information Ada found so insignificant as they spread from one person to another: ‘I heard that the Governor General has received death threats . . . They’re saying that the Chief of Police has been wounded . . . I heard some Jews were arrested . . . What if it’s true . . . how awful . . . But even if it isn’t true . . . God will protect us . . .’
    One evening, just as Ada had put down her book and was about to go to bed, she heard strange, muffled noises coming from the streets below, usually so calm at this time of year. It was February, a time of year that was not very cold but when there was heavy snow and strong winds. What could anyone be doing outside? She walked over to the window, blew on it to melt the ice and saw a crowd of people rushing about the street; every now and again they shouted and blew whistles. Ada stood there, watching, not understanding what was happening, when suddenly Aunt Raissa rushed into the room. Red blotches covered her face, as always when she was angry or in the grip of some violent emotion. She grabbed Ada by the arm and yanked her away from the window.
    ‘What are you doing? You horrible child!’ she shouted. (She was clearly happy to have her niece there, so she could take out all her fear and anger on her.) ‘You’re never around when you’re needed, but you manage to get in the way at the worst possible time! . . . You have to be careful, my darling,’ she said, her voice changing completely as Ada’s father came into the room.
    Ada wasn’t surprised at this sudden change in tone; she’d already learned that her aunt had two voices and two faces and could glide from abuse to sweetness with unbelievable ease and rapidity. She was doing it now: the anger that hissed from her lips had become as soft and plaintive as the sound of a flute.
    ‘Be sensible, my dear. Shouldn’t you have gone to bed ages ago? It’s ten o’clock. Come on, Adotchka, go to bed, my darling, but . . .’
    She and her brother-in-law glanced furtively at each other.
    ‘Only take off your dress and your shoes.’
    ‘Why?’
    The adults said nothing.
    ‘Nothing will happen tonight,’ her grandfather said as he toocame into the room. ‘They’ll break a few windows and go home to bed. But when the soldiers come, then . . .’
    He said no more. All three of them went cautiously over to the window. The room was lit only by a lamp in the adjoining room, but Ada’s father took it and lowered the wick until it was so low that it only gave off a dim, almost imperceptible light, reddish and smoky. Ada looked at them, puzzled. They huddled together in the shadows, whispering, taking turns blowing against the dark glass. But she was at an age when the need to sleep overcomes the body with a sudden,