“You have a good head,” he said softly. The Yiddish phrase he used was, literally translated, “an iron head.” He nodded, seemed to listen for a moment to the silence in the study, then folded his arms across his chest. He sighed loudly, his eyes suddenly sad. “Now we will see about your soul,” he said softly. “Reuven, my son will return soon. We have little time to talk. I want you to listen to me. I know that my Daniel spends hours almost every day in the public library. No, do not say anything. Just listen. I
