It was autumn before I could carry out Hanna’s instructions. The daughter lived in New York, and I used a meeting in Boston as the occasion to bring her the money: a bank check plus the tea tin with the cash. I had written to her, introduced myself as a legal historian, and mentioned the trial. I told her I would be grateful for a chance to talk to her. She invited me to tea.
I took the train from Boston to New York. The woods were a triumphal parade of brown, yellow, orange, tawny red, and chestnut, and the flaming glowing scarlet of the maples. It made me think of the autumn pictures in Hanna’s cell. When the rhythm of the wheels and the rocking of the car tired me, I dreamed of Hanna and myself in a house in the autumn-blazed hills that were lining our route.
Hanna was older than when I had met her and younger than when I had met her again, older than me, more attractive than in earlier years, more relaxed in her movements with age, more at home in her own body. I saw her getting out of the car and picking up shopping bags, saw her going through the garden into the house, saw her set down the bags and go upstairs ahead of me.
My longing for Hanna became so strong that it hurt. I struggled against the longing, argued that it went against Hanna’s and my reality, the reality of our ages, the reality of our circumstances. How could Hanna, who spoke no English, live in America? And she couldn’t drive a car either.
The daughter lived in New York on a street near Central Park. The street was lined on both sides with old row houses of dark sandstone, with stoops of the same sandstone leading up to the front door on the first floor. This created an effect of severity—house after house with almost identical fa?ades, stoop after stoop, trees only recently planted at regular intervals along the sidewalk, with a few yellowing leaves on thin twigs.
The daughter served tea by large windows looking out on the vest-pocket backyard gardens, some green and colorful and some merely collections of trash. As soon as we had sat down, the tea had been poured, and the sugar added and stirred, she switched from the English in which she had welcomed me, to German.
“What brings you here?” The question was neither friendly nor unfriendly; her tone was absolutely matter-of-fact. Everything about her was matter-of-fact: her manner, her gestures, her dress. Her face was oddly ageless, the way faces look after being lifted. But perhaps it had set because of her early sufferings; I tried and failed to remember her face as it had been during the trial.
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9
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我述说了汉娜的死和她的委托。
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9
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I told her about Hanna’s death and her last wishes.
At first I wanted to protest, but Hanna was indeed asking a great deal. Her years of imprisonment were not merely to be the required atonement: Hanna wanted to give them her own meaning, and she wanted this giving of meaning to be recognized. I said as much.
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16
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她摇摇头。我不知道她是否想拒绝我的解释,还是拒绝承认汉娜。
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16
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She shook her head. I didn’t know if this meant she was refusing to accept my interpretation or refusing to grant Hanna the recognition.
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17
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"不饶恕她您就不能承认她吗?"
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17
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“Could you not recognize it without granting her absolution?”
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18
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她笑了。"您喜欢她,对吗?你们之间到底是什么关系?"
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18
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She laughed. “You like her, don’t you? What was your relationship?”
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19
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我迟疑了一会儿。"我是她的朗读者。这从我十五岁时就开始了,在她坐牢时也没有断。"
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19
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I hesitated a moment. “I read aloud to her. It started when I was fifteen and continued while she was in prison.”
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20
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"您怎么…·"
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20
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“How did you . . .”
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21
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"我给她寄录音带。史密芝女士几乎一生都是个文盲,她在监狱里才开始学习读写。"
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21
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“I sent her tapes. Frau Schmitz was illiterate almost all her life; she only learned to read and write in prison.”
“That woman was truly brutal . . . did you ever get over the fact that you were only fifteen when she . . . No, you said yourself that you began reading to her again when she was in prison. Did you ever get married?”
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27
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我点点头。
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27
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I nodded.
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28
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"那么您的婚姻很短暂和不幸。您没有再结婚,您的孩子——如果您有孩子的话,在寄宿学校。"
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28
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“And the marriage was short and unhappy, and you never married again, and the child, if there is one, is in boarding school.”
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29
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"这种情况多的是,这与史密芝无关。"
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29
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“That’s true of thousands of people, it doesn’t take a Frau Schmitz.”
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30
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"在您与她最近这些年的接触中,您是否有过这种感觉,就是说,她清楚她给您所带来的是什么吗?"
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30
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“Did you ever feel, when you had contact with her in those last years, that she knew what she had done to you?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “In any case, she knew what she had done to people in the camp and on the march. She didn’t just tell me that, she dealt with it intensively during her last years in prison.” I told her what the warden had said.
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32
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她站了起来,在房间里来回踱着大步:"那么涉及到多少钱呢?"
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32
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She stood up and took long strides up and down the room. “How much money is it?”
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33
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我走到了我放包的衣帽架前,拿出支票和茶叶罐,走回来对她说:"都在这里。’’
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33
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I went to the coat closet, where I had left my bag, and returned with the check and the tea tin. “Here.”
She looked at the check and put it on the table. She opened the tin, emptied it, closed it again, and held it in her hand, her eyes riveted on it. “When I was a little girl, I had a tea tin for my treasures. Not like this, although these sorts of tea tins already existed, but one with Cyrillic letters, not one with a top you push in, but one you snap shut. I brought it with me to the camp, but then one day it was stolen from me.”
“What you’d expect. A piece of hair from our poodle. Tickets to the operas my father took me to, a ring I won somewhere or found in a package—the tin wasn’t stolen for what was in it. The tin itself, and what could be done with it, were worth a lot in the camp.”
She put the tin down on top of the check. “Do you have a suggestion for what to do with the money? Using it for something to do with the Holocaust would really seem like an absolution to me, and that is something I neither wish nor care to grant.”
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38
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"给那些想学习读写的文盲,一定有这样的公益基金会和社团组织,可以把钱捐献给这些机构。"
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38
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“For illiterates who want to learn to read and write. There must be nonprofit organizations, foundations, societies you could give the money to.”