Adler. She nods. This is a nice Jewish name. True, he wore no head covering, but Adlers are solid
“Y
ou knew.” If she modulates her voice then it will become not an accusation, but a statement of fact. Or maybe even a question.
But she can’t. It comes out as an accusation.
Ernst nods.
They are standing in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to sing. Usually, Ernst would not come into the kitchen; it is her domain. But the living room — with the bust of Goethe, the piano, stacks of sheet music — silences her.
She thinks of Dr. Werther in the sanatorium: “Any woman who loses her voice for more than a few months at a time is not going to be privy to the many gifts G-d bestowed on womankind.” Now, she forces herself to speak, despite the fact that she cannot control the tone of her voice, despite the fact that she will surely offend Ernst with her words.
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