“I don’t—”
“Listen to me carefully, Samuel. You can never be a doctor—not in our world. Only three of us are allowed to practice medicine in the ghetto. There are. dozens of skilled doctors here, waiting for one of us to retire or to die, so that they can take our place. There’s no chance for you. None. You were born at the wrong time, in the wrong place. Do you understand me, boy?”
Samuel swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
The doctor hesitated, then went on. “About your second dream—I’m afraid that one is just as impossible. There is no chance of your ever marrying Terenia.”
“Why?” Samuel asked.
Dr. Wal stared at him. “Why? For the same reason you can’t become a doctor. We live by the rules, by our traditions. My daughter will marry someone of her own class, someone who can afford to keep her in the same style in which she has been raised. She will marry a professional man, a lawyer or a doctor or a rabbi. You—well, you must put her out of your mind.”
“But—”
The doctor was ushering him toward the door. “Have someone look at that splint in a few days. See that the bandage is kept clean.”
“Yes, sir,” Samuel said. “Thank you, Dr. Wal.”
Dr. Wal studied the blond, intelligent-looking boy before him. “Good-bye, Samuel Roffe.”
Early the next afternoon, Samuel rang the front doorbell of the Wal house. Dr. Wal watched him through the window. He knew that he should send him away.
“Send him in,” Dr. Wal said to the maid.
After that, Samuel came to Dr. Wal’s house two or three times a week. He ran errands for the doctor, and in exchange Dr. Wal let him watch as he treated patients or worked in his laboratory, concocting medicines. The boy observed and learned and remembered everything. He had a natural talent. Dr. Wal felt a growing sense of guilt, for he knew that in a way he was encouraging Samuel, encouraging him to be something he could never be; and yet he could not bring himself to turn the boy away.
Whether it was by accident or design, Terenia was almost always around when Samuel was there. Occasionally he would get a glimpse of her walking past the laboratory, or leaving the house, and once he bumped into her in the kitchen, and his heart began to pound so hard that he thought he would faint. She studied him for a long moment, a look of speculation in her eyes, then she nodded coolly and was gone. At least she had noticed him! That was the first step. The rest was only a matter of time. There was not the slightest doubt in Samuel’s mind. It was fated. Terenia had become a major part of Samuel’s dreams about the future. Where once he had dreamed for himself, he now dreamed for the two of them. Somehow he would get them both out of this terrible ghetto, this stinking, overcrowded prison. And he would become a great success. But now his success would not be for him alone, but for both of them.
Even though it was impossible.
Elizabeth fell asleep, reading about old Samuel. In the morning when she awakened, she carefully hid the Book and began to get dressed for school. She could not get Samuel off her mind. How did he marry Terenia? How did he get out of the ghetto? How did he become famous? Elizabeth was consumed by the Book, and she resented the intrusions that tore her away from it and forced her to return to the twentieth century.
One of the classes that Elizabeth had to attend was ballet, and she loathed it. She would stuff herself into her pink tutu, and stare at her image in the mirror and try to tell herself that her figure was voluptuous. But the truth was there for her to see. She was fat. She would never be a ballet dancer.
Shortly after Elizabeth’s fourteenth birthday, Mme. Netturova, her dance teacher, announced that in two weeks the class would give its yearly dance recital in the auditorium, and that the students were to invite their parents. Elizabeth was in a state of panic. The mere thought of getting up on a stage in front of an audience filled her with dread. She could not go through with it.