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yourself.”
    â€œI’m not committing myself to anything. I just buried my father.”
    â€œTruly, I needed no reminder. Take all the time you want. But we need you, Mr. Hopeman. The man who goes must be qualified in a number of ways in addition to expertise. We must consider loyalties, age, physical fitness. Willingness to accept a certain amount of risk.”
    â€œWith a knowledgeable buyer, there isn’t that much risk.”
    â€œIt would not be your capital. We have arranged. The money will be donated by a small group of very wealthy persons in this country and in France. I was not speaking of investment risk,” Akiva said mildly.
    Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Forget it. Some of us will undergo any discomfort for a diamond deal. Nobody I know risks injury or death.”
    â€œThe risk is truly small. And there are all kinds of profit, Mr. Hopeman.”
    â€œTo hell with your shit. I’m just a businessman.”
    The Israeli regarded him thoughtfully. “It has occurred to me that when it is important for you to be a businessman, you are a businessman. When it is important to be a scholar, you are a scholar.”
    Perhaps the assessment was too accurate; Harry felt great resentment. “Right now, I have a clear picture of what is important to me and what is not.”
    Akiva sighed. He took a business card from his pocket and placed it on the polished surface of Essie’s dining-room table.
    â€œCall me as soon as you can,” he said. “Please.”
    The will provided generously for Essie; everything else was Harry’s. He couldn’t bring himself to go through the clothing. He kept one tie as a remembrance; as for the rest, the Salvation Army would have some exceptionally well-tailored patrons. He packed Alfred’s letters and papers into two cardboard cartons and tied them with twine. The Vaseline jar containing the jewels went into a paper bag, and then he called a bonded messenger and sent it, bag and all, to his vault.
    On the evening of the fourth day the apartment again began to fillwith friends of Essie’s, faded grandfathers with mournful eyes, old women with bunions.
    â€œI have to get out of here,” he told Della.
    Essie followed them to the door, furious at what she considered an insult to his father’s memory. “There’s silver, dishes …”
    â€œEverything else is yours.”
    â€œDon’t be so generous. Who wants it? I’m going to my sister’s in Florida. A small apartment.”
    â€œI’m coming back tomorrow,” Della said. “I’ll take care of things.”
    Essie looked at him. “You’ll finish sitting
shiva
at home?”
    He nodded.
    â€œYou’ll go to the synagogue every day? Or join a
minyan
at the Diamond Club? And say
kaddish
for a year?”
    â€œYes,” he lied, ready to agree to anything to escape the taste of death.
    They took a taxi to Della’s apartment where they went to bed.
    Hastily, like lovers.
    â€œDamn you,” she gasped.
    His own climax uncorked emotion. He sagged in her arms and legs.
    â€œHarry. Harry.” She simply held him until the weeping stopped.
    They lay together. Once he looked at her and saw what was in her face and hated himself. He was tired of hurting her.
    They fell asleep with his hand between her thighs, the way he knew she liked. In a couple of hours he awoke and found the hand numb from the wrist down. But to pull free would be to wake her.
    Finally, he did.
    â€œDon’t go.”
    â€œShsh.” He patted her shoulders, tucked the sheet around her.
    â€œWill you take his place on the Two Hundred and Fifty?”
    â€œProbably.”
    â€œIt would be more than enough for anyone,” she said.
    He searched frantically in the dark for his socks.
    â€œYou could take a teaching job. Or just write. And have time for Jeff and me.”
    He collected his clothes and carried them into the