She felt Mark’s eyes on her. She lay without moving. The fire had not gone out, which meant that Mark had not slept all night. When she finally opened her eyes it was already morning. Mark asked: “Did you sleep?” The sun rose in the sky and the horizons opened out one after the other until the misty plains were revealed in the distance. Here and there they could see a peasant ploughing. “It’s a good place,” said Mark. “You can see a long way from here.” The agitation had faded from his face, and a kind of complacency that did not suit him had taken its place. Tzili imagined she could see in him one of the Jewish salesmen who used to drop into her mother’s shop. Mark asked her: “Did you go to school?” “Yes.” “A Jewish school?” “No. There wasn’t one. I studied Judaism with an old teacher. The Pentateuch and prayers.” “Funny,” he said, “it sounds so far away. As if it never happened. And do you still remember anything?” “Hear, O Israel.” “And do you recite it?”
