Night by Wiesel Elie && Wiesel Marion

Author:Wiesel, Elie && Wiesel, Marion [Wiesel, Elie & Wiesel, Marion]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Autobiography
ISBN: 9780140189896
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2006-05-25T07:00:00+00:00

Unknown

there was still time. We decided that if we were allowed to live until the Liberation, we would not stay another day in Europe. We would board the first ship to Haifa. Still lost in his Kabbalistic dreams, Akiba Drumer had discov- ered a verse from the Bible which, translated into numbers, made it possible for him to predict Redemption in the weeks to come. WE HAD LEFT THE TENTS for the musicians' block. We now were entitled to a blanket, a washbowl, and a bar of soap. The Blockäl- teste was a German Jew. It was good to have a Jew as your leader. His name was Alphonse. A young man with a startlingly wizened face. He was totally devoted to defending “his” block. Whenever he could, he would “organize” a cauldron of soup for the young, for the weak, for all those who dreamed more of an extra portion of food than of liberty. ONE DAY, when we had just returned from the warehouse, I was summoned by the block secretary: “A-7713?” “That's me.” “After your meal, you'll go to see the dentist.” “But…I don't have a toothache…” “After your meal. Without fail.” I went to the infirmary block. Some twenty prisoners were waiting in line at the entrance. It didn't take long to learn the rea- son for our summons: our gold teeth were to be extracted. The dentist, a Jew from Czechoslovakia, had a face not unlike a death mask. When he opened his mouth, one had a ghastly vi- sion of yellow, rotten teeth. Seated in the chair, I asked meekly: 51

“What are you going to do, sir?” “I shall remove your gold crown, that's all,” he said, clearly in- different. I thought of pretending to be sick: “Couldn't you wait a few days, sir? I don't feel well, I have a fever…” He wrinkled his brow, thought for a moment, and took my pulse. “All right, son. Come back to see me when you feel better. But don't wait for me to call you!” I went back to see him a week later. With the same excuse: I still was not feeling better. He did not seem surprised, and I don't know whether he believed me. Yet he most likely was pleased that I had come back on my own, as I had promised. He granted me a further delay. A few days after my visit, the dentist's office was shut down. He had been thrown into prison and was about to be hanged. It appeared that he had been dealing in the prisoners' gold teeth for his own benefit. I felt no pity for him. In fact, I was pleased with what was happening to him: my gold crown was safe. It could be useful to me one day, to buy something, some bread or even time to live. At that moment in time, all that mattered to me was my daily bowl of soup, my crust of stale bread. The bread, the soup— those were my entire life.

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