One afternoon, as Samuel was walking by the Wal house on an errand, he heard piano music coming from inside, and he knew that she was playing. He had to see her. Looking around to make sure no one was observing him, Samuel walked to the side of the house. The music was coming from upstairs, directly above his head. Samuel stepped back and studied the wall. There were enough handholds for him to climb it, and without a moment’s hesitation he started up. The second floor was higher than he had realized, and before he reached the window he was ten feet above the ground. He looked down and felt a momentary sense of dizziness. The music was louder now, and he felt as if she were playing for him. He grabbed another handhold and pulled himself up to the window. Slowly he raised his head so he could peer over the sill. He found himself looking into an exquisitely furnished parlor. The girl was seated before a gold-and-white piano, playing, and behind her in an armchair, reading a book, was Dr. Wal. Samuel had no eyes for him. He could only stare at the beautiful vision just a few feet away from him. He loved her! He would do something spectacular and daring so that she would fall in love with him. He would—So engrossed was Samuel in his daydream that he loosened his grip and began to fall into space. He let out a cry and saw two startled faces staring at him just before he plunged to the ground.
He woke up on an operating table in Dr. Wal’s office, a spacious room outfitted with medical cabinets and an array of surgical equipment. Dr. Wal was holding an awful-smelling piece of cotton under Samuel’s nose. Samuel choked and sat up.
“That’s better,” Dr. Wal said. “I should remove your brain but I doubt if you have one. What were you planning to steal, boy?”
“Nothing,” Samuel replied indignantly.
“What’s your name?”
“Samuel Roffe.”
The doctor’s fingers began to probe Samuel’s right wrist, and the boy cried out with pain.
“Hm. You have a broken wrist, Samuel Roffe. Maybe we should let the police fix it’
Samuel groaned aloud. He was thinking about what would happen when the police brought him home in disgrace. His aunt Rachel’s heart would be broken; his father would kill him. But, even more important, how could he ever hope to win Dr. Wal’s daughter now? He was a criminal, a marked man. Samuel felt a sudden, agonizing jerk on his wrist, and he looked up at the doctor in shocked surprise.
“It’s all right,” Dr. Wal said. “I’ve set it.” He went to work putting a splint on it. “Do you live around here, Samuel Roffe?”
“No, sir.”
“Haven’t I seen you hanging about?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
Why? If Samuel told him the truth, Dr. Wal would laugh at him.
“I want to become a doctor,” Samuel blurted out, unable to contain himself.
Dr. Wal was staring at him in disbelief. “That’s why you climbed the wall of my house like a burglar?”
Samuel found himself telling his entire story. He told about his mother dying in the streets, and about his father, about his first visit to Krakow and his frustration at being locked inside the ghetto walls at night like an animal. He told how he felt about Dr. Wal’s daughter. He told everything, and the doctor listened in silence. Even to Samuel’s ears his story sounded ridiculous; and when he was finished, he whispered, “I—I’m sorry.”
Dr. Wal looked at him for a long time, and then said, “I’m sorry, too. For you, and for me, and for all of us. Every man is a prisoner, and the greatest irony of all is to be the prisoner of another man.”
Samuel looked up at him, puzzled. “I don’t understand, sir.”
The doctor sighed. “One day you will.” He rose to his feet, walked over to his desk, selected a pipe and slowly and methodically filled it. “I’m afraid this is a very bad day for you, Samuel Roffe.”
He put a match to the tobacco, blew it out and then turned to the boy. “Not because of your broken wrist. That will heal. But I’m going to have to do something to you that may not heal so quickly.” Samuel was watching him, his eyes wide. Dr. Wal walked over to his side, and when he spoke his voice was gentle. “Very few people ever have a dream. You have two dreams. And I’m afraid I am going to have to break both of them.”
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