Liliens, who before the war had been people of means—and for several generations, at that—were possessed of such a deeply developed sense of security that, even in the new and critical situation in which they now found themselves, it did not occur to them to move to a different suburb. Zalesinek, where they rented an apartment, was located about a quarter of the way to Smug, and many people along the commuter line knew the Liliens, whether personally or by sight. They had become so much a part of Polish culture and customs that they had no idea they might arouse suspicion by their outward appearance.
Fortunately, the oldest generation of Liliens, the banker and his wife, did not travel to Warsaw. She, an immense, fat Jewish woman, had been incapacitated for a number of years and never left her wheelchair. Her husband, long ago having withdrawn from affairs at the bank, contented himself by sitting in the sun or, on rainy or cold days, by watching people play bridge. But his son Professor Lilien, his wife, and their daughter, Irena, still traveled to Warsaw as often as before. Mrs. Lilien attracted relatively little attention. Small, slender, and quiet, with irregular but pleasant features, she could pass for Aryan. It was much worse for the professor and Irena.
Irena went into Warsaw several times a week. She visited friends and acquaintances—and a desire to see Malecki occasioned other trips as well. She loved her social life and an atmosphere of fun; she liked to arrange meetings in the bars and cafés that were so fashionable during the war. Irena Lilien was very pretty: tall, dark-haired, and dark-complexioned. Her coarse, thick hair and eastern eyes, however, were strikingly Jewish. When Malecki explained that she ought to be more careful, Irena just laughed and said that the Germans knew nothing of such things. Of course, at that time, incidences of extortion by Poles already had begun to occur, but Irena did not take seriously the possibility of such a thing ever happening to her or to those close to her. Her beauty, and the social position to which she had been born and to which she had become accustomed, lent her a sense of security from all danger.
Professor Lilien, for other reasons, having more to do with his upbringing, likewise did not take seriously the possibility that anything could happen to him. The war had shaken him very badly. The triumph of bestiality over regard for human life put his innate humanity and liberalism to a hard test, but he emerged from it with an unswerving belief in life and in human progress. However, the defense of those threatened values cost him dearly. Juliusz Lilien, gifted with a remarkable historical intuition and imagination, was bereft of any imagination at all with regard to his own fate or that of those closest to him. There are people who, having attained a high position in society, cannot imagine the existence of any power capable of casting them down and depriving them of what they have achieved. Lilien was just such a person. Even after being driven from Smug and forced to exchange his luxurious and spacious villa1 for three sublet rooms, deprived of his library, servants, and creature comforts, he remained in his sensibilities the same person he had been before the war: the scion of an old and wealthy family, a justly renowned historian, an oft-named university master and dean, and a member of various scholarly societies both in Poland and abroad. In the public mind, Lilien was reputed to be a Mason of some distinction, but whether he really was—and, if so, what role he might have played in the organization—would have been hard to say. He had influential relatives in all the countries of Europe and in America, as well as friends in academic circles, in international finance, and in politics. If he did not leave Poland after the September defeat and later failed to avail himself of the opportunity of travel to Italy, it was no doubt due primarily to his deep-rooted certainty that, through all of life’s vicissitudes, he would remain Professor Lilien. The first years of the war already had narrowed the scope of his activities and his significance but had not succeeded in altering his attitude. He worked incessantly, wrote and read, and visited those of his colleagues who remained in Warsaw. In his manner of living and in his thought and experience, he endeavored to affirm the rather illusory truth that the objective shape of the world and its events can be obliterated and pushed into the shadows by the interpretation one ascribes to things.
The Liliens spent the entire summer in Zalesinek, and Malecki visited them there several times. The neighborhood was typical of suburban Warsaw—barren and sandy, and crowded with ugly villas set among dwarfish pine trees. In comparison to beautiful Smug, charmingly set in the middle of an old park and ponds and surrounded by dense and abundant alders, blackthorns, and bird-cherries, Zalesinek was poor and sad-looking. The banality of the sublet apartment was ameliorated somewhat by the things the Liliens had brought with them from Smug, and there were still a good many books in the professor’s room.
Malecki went to Zalesinek for the last time one Sunday in August. In addition to him, there was the young painter Fela Ptaszycka—nicknamed Birdie, despite her enormous stature—a friend of Irena’s and an admirer of the intellectual virtues of the professor.2 No other guests fulfilled their promise to come—a surprise, since on Saturday and Sunday many people usually visited the Liliens, and their expansive, two-story house in Smug would become as full as a boardinghouse or hotel. The Liliens had complained on occasion about the excess of guests, but they had become so used to it that they felt unpleasantly surprised by the lonely holiday. They served an excellent dinner, with chicken and a very elaborate dessert. But not even the purchase of French cognac from some German soldiers, which Irena poured into dark Turkish coffee, could set the awkward atmosphere aright. Although the professor was talkative, it seemed that his erudition and witty humor required numerous listeners to be truly effective. Irena was overly boisterous, laughing too much and too loudly. Ptaszycka carried within her massive body a tender and sensitive heart and, in her desire that a good mood prevail, time and again committed horrible social gaffes. That she did this so sincerely and with such evident goodwill only worsened the situation.
After dinner, wanting to be alone with Malecki at last, Irena proposed a walk in the direction of the old woods. But first the professor had to lay out for Malecki a picture of the political situation of the world at war; then Ptaszycka again interfered and when, after a long while, it finally dawned on her that she was in the way, she was unable to extricate herself from her awkward role. In the end, Malecki returned to Warsaw on an earlier train than usual. Irena announced her intention to travel to the city on the following Wednesday, but neither on that day nor on any of the following days was there any sign of her. In connection with his work on the renovation of a certain Cistercian monastery,3 Malecki left for a remote province and visited Irena only after his return at the end of the following week.
During this time, the Liliens had encountered a number of unpleasant incidents. Someone must have informed on them, because on the Wednesday after that Sunday, the Gestapo4 began to take an interest in them. This time, matters were much more serious. First, the professor himself was seized and detained at headquarters for a day and a night. The following morning, the same agents came and transported Mrs. Lilien and Irena to the Warsaw Ghetto. They were there for only a few hours, and the professor too was released; but this time, as Irena related, it was evident that the ransom for his freedom had been very high. Of course, staying in Zalesinek was now out of the question. It was vital that they leave immediately and take with them only the most essential of their belongings.
The biggest problem was with the elder Liliens, the banker and his wife. Finally, after long deliberations and overcoming many and various obstacles, both were placed in a private clinic in Warsaw. The professor left for Kraków to survey conditions there, while his wife stayed with her distant family, which up to that point had been safe. Irena was taken in by Fela Ptaszycka. Shortly thereafter, within a very short interval, the elder Liliens both passed away. The professor returned from Kraków less vibrant than usual, nothing apparently having come of his plans. Only now did the Liliens decide to take out Aryan papers5 for themselves. Under the name of Grabowski, they settled once again on the outskirts of Warsaw, this time on the right bank of the Vistula, along the railway line toward Otwock. But two weeks later, when they barely had settled in, they had to move again hurriedly, changing location almost from hour to hour.
Malecki saw the Liliens for the last time at Fela Ptaszycka’s. He found that the professor had changed the most. He was depressed, he looked very old, and he was
