Mr. Monday and other tales of Jewish Amsterdam

MY FATHER AND MR. LEBOVITZ 47

"That Mr. Lebovitz of yours is an evil character," Grandmother said.

"Next time I see him, I'll let him know your opinion," answered Father.

If any discussion ever came that far, however, Grandmother wouldn't be satisfied with just ordinary bickering, she wanted a fight. On such occasions Mother intervened.

"How can you be angry about that Mr. Lebovitz?" she asked philosophically. "He does not even exist."

"You are right," said Grandmother with a superior smile. "If you're not careful that husband of yours will drive everybody stark raving mad."

That usually ended the argument. But who had made it come to an end? Mr. Lebovitz of course. He was an extraordinary member of our family.

Everytime anybody talked about the Sunschein Sisters, Father broke out laughing. Mother did not like those two girls at all.

"It is a scandal for the house. Down in the basement, on the ground floor and on the third and fourth floors live quiet, respectable people, if I may say so. But every honest woman would get upset about all that carrying-on on the second floor.

Of course, the neighbours were full of gossip about the Sunschein Sisters. Because they never allowed anyone of us to come into their flat, the tallest stories about them were easily believed. Rosa and Dina, said the know-it-alls, slept in an enormous bed. Their rooms had built-in-mirrors on the ceiling, and in every nook and corner there were lamps with rose-silk lampshades.