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police and dismissed the two clerks, who had regained their tongues and were demanding an arrest. All the customers had quietly slipped away, except for the American, who fluttered nervously, distressed but helpless, and the German woman in the suit . She went up to the officer in charge and said authoritatively, “I believe this woman is Israeli.”
    â€œShe is,” he said.
    â€œRelease her. There was some provocation, an unpleasant incident. She had cause to be upset. And we do not know her background. You had better let her go.”
    David’s German was fluent. He told Ilana to wait and approached the officer. “The lady is distressed. The incident is over, and I am going to take her home.”
    â€œIs she your wife?” the man asked officiously.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter who she is. This is who I am. If you need me, I can be reached at the Frankfurterhof.” He handed over his card.
    â€œNow just a minute—”
    â€œOfficer, I have not yet heard what happened in there. When I do, I may wish to press charges. I suggest you do nothing to exacerbate the situation.”
    The policeman looked at the card in his hand, then at David’s face. He said, “There is no need for charges on any side, sir. You may go. Please take care of the lady. We are sensitive to incidents of this kind; we would not like it to happen again.”
    â€œIt won’t,” David said.
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    â€œWould you care to tell me what happened?”
    â€œI would if I could, but I can’t.”
    They lay side by side on the king-sized bed in the suite. David had guided her, ashen and stunned, through the lobby and up to their rooms. He undressed her without a word, put her in the bath, left, and came back with two large whiskeys on a salver. “Cheers,” he said. Ilana tried to apologize, but he shut her up and began to soap her back and buttocks with good-natured, unpressing lust. After a while she began to cry. David took her out of the bath and led her to the bed and made love to her with a tender passion that astonished them both, having had no precedent in the relationship. Ilana, usually supremely conscious, active, and unmoved during love-making (though skilled at pretending otherwise), allowed herself, in her exhaustion, the sinful luxury of passivity and in the end achieved a long moment of utter forgetfulness. When she came back, she was herself again.
    It was then David asked, “Would you care to tell me what happened?”
    Ilana’s recovery had progressed to the point of worrying about David’s reaction. “I would if I could, but I can’t,” she said almost gaily.
    â€œYou must have some idea. All that screaming.”
    Until that moment it had not occurred to her that he might have seen more of the scene than her exit “How long were you there?” she asked.
    â€œI saw the last act,” he said. “You were magnificent.”
    She smiled. “Somewhat lacking in motivation, I fear. The last act is all there was.”
    â€œThat woman said there was provocation, some kind of incident. What happened? Was it—anti-Semitism?” He said the word with the coy thrill of a young boy whispering about sex.
    â€œSomeone said, ‘Juden, ’ “ she remembered.
    He waited. “Is that all?”
    â€œIt upset me.”
    â€œThat was evident.”
    â€œI’ve never liked coming to Germany.”
    â€œNeither have I. And Frankfurt is particularly beastly. But still—”
    â€œDavid, you were magnificent,” she interrupted, deliberately changing the subject but meaning it, too. “You saved my life, and I’ll never, ever forget it. But, darling, what a scene!” She began to laugh, and he did, too, but not without an edge of alarm in his voice. Hearing it strengthened her resolve. When she said that she was going home, he protested but not too much. Ilana taxied to the airport the next