put more pressure. He had at hand the felt-covered wooden tongs he would use to adjust the piece once it was glued. When the five clamps were in place, he allowed himself to rest a moment while the glue dried. He had removed the excess glue, but it was too late to begin working on a new piece.
The guard had constantly thrashed Daniel during his first few weeks in camp, but now he left him pretty much alone. The guard had even stopped insulting him and seemed satisfied with the luthier who labored in silence, rarely asked permission to use the latrine, didn’t cause problems or speak to other carpenters. Even so, it was better not to press his luck: Daniel decided to keep his hand on the violin top to give the appearance of working, but he was careful not to apply any pressure. He sat down on the stool he had made but continued to act as if it were necessary to hold the violin.
Not wanting to remember the terrible selection of the previous day, he tried to direct his thoughts—as if guiding a compliant tool—toward his niece Regina, the little blue-eyed doll he had held so often. His arms were strong then; he used to toss the laughing child high in the air and catch her. It comforted him to believe her safe, though he had had no further news of her. The family would never endanger themselves by contacting him. His cousin, of almost Aryan descent, had two sons who were adolescents now; they probably all doted on the little girl. He recalled that the grandfather kept bees and had a little vegetable garden, so they must have enough food. Surely, the dark circles and sunken eyes, the signs of hunger that had marked her cheeks, would have disappeared by now.
It was better not to think about the dead, but about Regina, and Eva, who was safe at the Tisch factory. Thank goodness his work could still calm him, but he had noticed that he was growing weaker, less sturdy. He could breathe more easily today, was grateful for the sympathetic sun that filtered through the transparent paper affixed to the paneless window. The guard was sitting at a distance, not watching, munching on a handful of nuts he’d managed to find, waiting for his midday meal. How Daniel longed for the almonds the guard was loudly crunching, probably on purpose to make the others envious. At least the guard was distracted; it allowed the prisoners a moment of rest and calm.
Daniel was fortunate, extremely fortunate. The carpenter whose bench was closest to his had slipped over to Daniel’s spot to wake him up. Daniel had never fallen asleep at work before, but he had hardly slept the previous night after the trucks returned. He was so exhausted that morning that he had rested his head on the bench, beside the violin, and had fallen asleep. Thank goodness no one else had noticed, or at least none of the other workers had ratted on him to the kapo, as they sometimes did to earn points.
I can never let this happen again, Daniel thought. He had learned in the last few days just how much could be at stake. He’d heard it from Bronislaw, the violinist who had befriended him after Daniel had tried to save him from being punished—as if both of them were not equally defenseless, equally unarmed. Bronislaw had been arrested, but he had been able to avoid the whippings and the Spring Cleaning. He had been assigned to work all day in the kitchen, except on the occasions when the Commander sent for him to play in the trio or the orchestra. Bronislaw’s well-trained ear caught every snatch of enemy conversation. It seemed that both men owed their lives to the kind-eyed guest, a friend of Tisch’s, a man by the name of Schindler, a benevolent goy . Unfortunately, the man had left and hadn’t returned, and his factory was far from there. In the meantime, although Rascher had been assigned to another lager , he was a frequent, more ominous visitor. The doctor had been heard bragging about the fact that Himmler, the SS Reichsführer, the Great Swine himself, had
The guard had constantly thrashed Daniel during his first few weeks in camp, but now he left him pretty much alone. The guard had even stopped insulting him and seemed satisfied with the luthier who labored in silence, rarely asked permission to use the latrine, didn’t cause problems or speak to other carpenters. Even so, it was better not to press his luck: Daniel decided to keep his hand on the violin top to give the appearance of working, but he was careful not to apply any pressure. He sat down on the stool he had made but continued to act as if it were necessary to hold the violin.
Not wanting to remember the terrible selection of the previous day, he tried to direct his thoughts—as if guiding a compliant tool—toward his niece Regina, the little blue-eyed doll he had held so often. His arms were strong then; he used to toss the laughing child high in the air and catch her. It comforted him to believe her safe, though he had had no further news of her. The family would never endanger themselves by contacting him. His cousin, of almost Aryan descent, had two sons who were adolescents now; they probably all doted on the little girl. He recalled that the grandfather kept bees and had a little vegetable garden, so they must have enough food. Surely, the dark circles and sunken eyes, the signs of hunger that had marked her cheeks, would have disappeared by now.
It was better not to think about the dead, but about Regina, and Eva, who was safe at the Tisch factory. Thank goodness his work could still calm him, but he had noticed that he was growing weaker, less sturdy. He could breathe more easily today, was grateful for the sympathetic sun that filtered through the transparent paper affixed to the paneless window. The guard was sitting at a distance, not watching, munching on a handful of nuts he’d managed to find, waiting for his midday meal. How Daniel longed for the almonds the guard was loudly crunching, probably on purpose to make the others envious. At least the guard was distracted; it allowed the prisoners a moment of rest and calm.
Daniel was fortunate, extremely fortunate. The carpenter whose bench was closest to his had slipped over to Daniel’s spot to wake him up. Daniel had never fallen asleep at work before, but he had hardly slept the previous night after the trucks returned. He was so exhausted that morning that he had rested his head on the bench, beside the violin, and had fallen asleep. Thank goodness no one else had noticed, or at least none of the other workers had ratted on him to the kapo, as they sometimes did to earn points.
I can never let this happen again, Daniel thought. He had learned in the last few days just how much could be at stake. He’d heard it from Bronislaw, the violinist who had befriended him after Daniel had tried to save him from being punished—as if both of them were not equally defenseless, equally unarmed. Bronislaw had been arrested, but he had been able to avoid the whippings and the Spring Cleaning. He had been assigned to work all day in the kitchen, except on the occasions when the Commander sent for him to play in the trio or the orchestra. Bronislaw’s well-trained ear caught every snatch of enemy conversation. It seemed that both men owed their lives to the kind-eyed guest, a friend of Tisch’s, a man by the name of Schindler, a benevolent goy . Unfortunately, the man had left and hadn’t returned, and his factory was far from there. In the meantime, although Rascher had been assigned to another lager , he was a frequent, more ominous visitor. The doctor had been heard bragging about the fact that Himmler, the SS Reichsführer, the Great Swine himself, had
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