10

THE MAN AT THE DOOR INTRODUCED HIMSELF AS PROFESSOR Stanisław Załuski. “On behalf of the entire History Department,” he said, “I wish to apologize for Professor Dombrowski, that he could not bring you to my home this evening and that he will miss our reception. His father’s illness, you see.”

Nathan adopted a look of concern and nodded understandingly.

“He was looking forward to greeting you personally after these many months.” As Załuski spoke he escorted Nathan to the center of the small apartment, where about thirty people mingled, packed together in small groups. The place was uncomfortably warm, and no one wore a jacket. Nathan wished he could remove his own. The cramped quarters, lined from floor to ceiling with books, every available surface cluttered with photographs and knickknacks, had the feel of a temporary storage unit.

“Professor, please let me introduce you to my wife, Anna, and to some members of our faculty,” Załuski said.

One by one, with great formality, Załuski introduced his wife, a woman whose delicate face was framed by an elegant pair of amber earrings, and each of the assembled Poles. They all shook his hand and, to Nathan’s great relief, greeted him in English. Several people expressed admiration for his theories on constitutional paradigms. Others apologized for Dombrowski’s failure to escort him to the reception. Nathan accepted a glass of sherry from a young man in jeans. With a conspiratorial wink, Załuski handed his guest a hot cheese blintze on a delicately decorated china plate. “My wife makes the best naleniki z serem in Poland,” he said.

Nathan stared at the cheese blintze, which until that moment he believed was of Jewish origin. He bit into the soft dough and discreetly admired Załuski’s shock of thick blond hair, which swept majestically away from his broad, high forehead. The Pole’s drooping blue eyes gave him an air of aristocratic ease. You could watch a man like this and be convinced that blintzes are every bit as refined as French crepes, he thought. “They are delicious.” He smiled at Anna and followed his host to one of the few chairs that had been scattered about. Załuski motioned for him to sit. Nathan could not politely refuse, although he felt more comfortable observing the gathering from the perimeter walls than from the center of the room.

“I hope you will enjoy your first trip to Poland, Professor Linden. I think you will find we are a more complex people than most Westerners think, Polish jokes notwithstanding.” Załuski winked again.

Nathan smiled agreeably as he watched his host light a cigarette and slowly inhale. A moment later he realized that he too was being closely observed. “I think that can be fairly said of all peoples, that they are complex, don’t you agree?” he said. “At least, that’s been my experience, and it’s part of the challenge of devising constitutional paradigms.”

“With all due respect, Professor Linden,” Załuski said in a voice that resonated throughout the room and caught the attention of all its occupants, “I think you Americans put too much stock in creating systems of one sort or another. I don’t think the world can be that easily reduced.” Załuski slowly exhaled through his nose. He paused, gazed around the room, and narrowed his eyes. His audience quieted as he continued. “I believe there are irrational forces in all societies that cannot be tamed or reasoned away. They are the enemies of democracy, the dark, magical side of human nature if you will, and a hundred of your perfectly drafted, duly adopted constitutions will not diminish their power.”

“Perhaps, but a constitution can control them,” Nathan responded without a second thought.

“Only to a point. In your own country, did the post-Civil War amendments abolishing slavery and promising equal protection under the law end the apartheid mentality, if not the practices, of your southern brethren? I think not.”

Nathan was not used to this level of skepticism about the foundations of his life’s work. He raised his eyebrows in what he hoped would convey a neutral, slightly bemused attitude, and smiled back. But his jaw was locked, and his teeth were clenched.

The two men regarded each other. Then Załuski leaned back in his chair and gave Nathan a half smile. He pulled an ashtray from a bookshelf and twirled the burning tip of his cigarette into the glass until it was crushed. He paused, inspected the stub, then looked directly at Nathan.

“Excuse me for my curiosity, but what kind of name is Linden?” he asked.

A tight, pulsing sensation shot across Nathan’s stomach. “An American name,” he said.

“But of what derivation?”

“European. American families don’t generally come from just one place. My family came from all over Europe.” He quickly turned his face away.

“Forgive me,” Załuski said, “but I ask you about your name only because I don’t recognize its origin, and I have a fascination with such things. In this country, you see, one’s origin is of singular importance. My own family, the Załuskis, for example, traces its Polish lineage to the fifteenth century. The name is my Polish birthright, more significant to me than the memory of Germans arresting my father or the Communists seizing our ancestral home to make us outcasts in our own country. We are still Załuskis, of the Kingdom of Poland.”

Nathan gave his host a short nod. “I’m aware of Poland’s history of invasion,” he said. “I suppose it’s the lot of a nation that stands between Western and Eastern Europe without the protection of natural borders.”

“Yes, an old story,” Załuski concurred. “We are the Christ of Nations. But now, about your family?”

“I’m afraid that, like most Americans, my origins are obscure,” Nathan offered, hoping to put a quick end to the discussion. “In any case, my origins are not of much interest to me or to anyone else in my family.”

Załuski looked genuinely shocked. “How do you know who you are if you don’t know where your family came from?”

All around the room people appeared to regard Nathan with new interest. He rose from his chair and fixed Załuski with one of those ironic professorial smiles that worked so well at confusing his students back home. “Perhaps that’s the great American dilemma,” he said. But as he looked about hopefully for support, not one person returned a sympathetic gaze.

Załuski’s wife, Anna, pressed a steaming dish toward him. “Another naleniki, Professor?”

“I would love one,” he replied, smiling at her gratefully. But as she placed the delicacy on his plate, Nathan was reminded of the far less elegant blintzes frying in the Brooklyn kitchen of his childhood. He remembered the steam on the window, the fire escape, and the brick wall. He had set the course of his entire life to break free from that kitchen and the boundaries of Brooklyn. To succeed, he had even left his name and his parents, Sadie and Isaac (née Itzik) Leiber, behind. How, in God’s name, had Załuski guessed?