"What do you think?" he said to my mother. "Our guest tells me that in his country there is a temple, with priests and Levites and an organ."

"Well, and an altar?" questioned my mother, and my father told her:

"He says they have an altar, and sacrifices, he says, and golden vessels--everything just as we used to have it in Jerusalem."

And with these words my father sighs deeply, and my mother, as she looks at him, sighs also, and I cannot understand the reason. Surely we should be proud and glad to think we have such a land, ruled over by a Jewish king and high priest, a land with Levites and an organ, with an altar and sacrifices--and bright, sweet thoughts enfold me, and carry me away as on wings to that happy Jewish land where the houses are of pine-wood and roofed with silver, where the furniture is gold, and diamonds and pearls lie scattered in the street. And I feel sure, were I really there, I should know what to do--I should know how to hide things--they would shake nothing out of _me_. I should certainly bring home a lovely present for my mother, diamond ear-rings and several pearl necklaces. I look at the one mother is wearing, at her ear-rings, and I feel a great desire to be in that country. And it occurs to me, that after Pa.s.sover I will travel there with our guest, secretly, no one shall know. I will only speak of it to our guest, open my heart to him, tell him the whole truth, and beg him to take me there, if only for a little while. He will certainly do so, he is a very kind and approachable person, he looks at every one, even at Rikel the maid, in such a friendly, such a very friendly way!

"So I think, and it seems to me, as I watch our guest, that he has read my thoughts, and that his beautiful black eyes say to me:

"Keep it dark, little friend, wait till after Pa.s.sover, then we shall manage it!"

IV

I dreamt all night long. I dreamt of a desert, a temple, a high priest, and a tall mountain. I climb the mountain. Diamonds and pearls grow on the trees, and my comrades sit on the boughs, and shake the jewels down onto the ground, whole showers of them, and I stand and gather them, and stuff them into my pockets, and, strange to say, however many I stuff in, there is still room! I stuff and stuff, and still there is room! I put my hand into my pocket, and draw out--not pearls and brilliants, but fruits of all kinds--apples, pears, oranges, olives, dates, nuts, and figs. This makes me very unhappy, and I toss from side to side. Then I dream of the temple, I hear the priests chant, and the Levites sing, and the organ play. I want to go inside and I cannot--Rikel the maid has hold of me, and will not let me go. I beg of her and scream and cry, and again I am very unhappy, and toss from side to side. I wake--and see my father and mother standing there, half dressed, both pale, my father hanging his head, and my mother wringing her hands, and with her soft eyes full of tears. I feel at once that something has gone very wrong, very wrong indeed, but my childish head is incapable of imagining the greatness of the disaster.

The fact is this: our guest from beyond the desert and the seven seas has disappeared, and a lot of things have disappeared with him: all the silver wine-cups, all the silver spoons, knives, and forks; all my mother's ornaments, all the money that happened to be in the house, and also Rikel the maid!

A pang goes through my heart. Not on account of the silver cups, the silver spoons, knives, and forks that have vanished; not on account of mother's ornaments or of the money, still less on account of Rikel the maid, a good riddance! But because of the happy, happy land whose roads were strewn with brilliants, pearls, and diamonds; because of the temple with the priests, the Levites, and the organ; because of the altar and the sacrifices; because of all the other beautiful things that have been taken from me, taken, taken, taken!

I turn my face to the wall, and cry quietly to myself.

GYMNASIYE

A man's worst enemy, I tell you, will never do him the harm he does himself, especially when a woman interferes, that is, a wife. Whom do you think I have in mind when I say that? My own self! Look at me and think. What would you take me for? Just an ordinary Jew. It doesn't say on my nose whether I have money, or not, or whether I am very low indeed, does it?

It may be that I once _had_ money, and not only that--money in itself is nothing--but I can tell you, I earned a living, and that respectably and quietly, without worry and flurry, not like some people who like to live in a whirl.

No, my motto is, "More haste, less speed."

I traded quietly, went bankrupt a time or two quietly, and quietly went to work again. But there is a G.o.d in the world, and He blessed me with a wife--as she isn't here, we can speak openly--a wife like any other, that is, at first glance she isn't so bad--not at all! In person, (no evil eye!) twice my height; not an ugly woman, quite a beauty, you may say; an intelligent woman, quite a man--and that's the whole trouble!

Oi, it isn't good when the wife is a man! The Almighty knew what He was about when, at the creation, he formed Adam first and then Eve. But what's the use of telling her that, when _she_ says, "If the Almighty created Adam first and then Eve, that's _His_ affair, but if he put more sense into my heel than into your head, no more am I to blame for that!"

"What is all this about?" say I.--"It's about that which should be first and foremost with you," says she.--"But I have to be the one to think of everything--even about sending the boy to the Gymnasiye!"--"Where," say I, "is it 'written' that my boy should go to the Gymnasiye? Can I not afford to have him taught Torah at home?"--"I've told you a hundred and fifty times," says she, "that you won't persuade me to go against the world! And the world," says she, "has decided that children should go to the Gymnasiye."--"In my opinion," say I, "the world is mad!"--"And you,"

says she, "are the only sane person in it? A pretty thing it would be,"

says she, "if the world were to follow you!"--"Every man," say I, "should decide on his own course."--"If my enemies," says she, "and my friends' enemies, had as little in pocket and bag, in box and chest, as you have in your head, the world would be a different place."--"Woe to the man," say I, "who needs to be advised by his wife!"--"And woe to the wife," says she, "who has that man to her husband!"--Now if you can argue with a woman who, when you say one thing, maintains the contrary, when you give her one word, treats you to a dozen, and who, if you bid her shut up, cries, or even, I beg of you, faints--well, I envy you, that's all! In short, up and down, this way and that way, she got the best of it--she, not I, because the fact is, when she wants a thing, it has to be!

Well, what next? Gymnasiye! The first thing was to prepare the boy for the elementary cla.s.s in the Junior Preparatory. I must say, I did not see anything very alarming in that. It seemed to me that anyone of our Cheder boys, an Alef-Bes scholar, could tuck it all into his belt, especially a boy like mine, for whose equal you might search an empire, and not find him. I am a father, not of you be it said! but that boy has a memory that beats everything! To cut a long story short, he went up for examination and--did _not_ pa.s.s! You ask the reason? He only got a two in arithmetic; they said he was weak at calculation, in the science of mathematics. What do you think of that? He has a memory that beats everything! I tell you, you might search an empire for his like--and they come talking to me about mathematics! Well, he failed to pa.s.s, and it vexed me very much. If he _was_ to go up for examination, let him succeed. However, being a man and not a woman, I made up my mind to it--it's a misfortune, but a Jew is used to that. Only what was the use of talking to _her_ with that bee in her bonnet? Once for all, Gymnasiye! I reason with her. "Tell me," say I, "(may you be well!) what is the good of it? He's safe," say I, "from military service, being an only son, and as for Parnosseh, devil I need it for Parnosseh! What do I care if he _does_ become a trader like his father, a merchant like the rest of the Jews? If he is destined to become a rich man, a banker, I don't see that I'm to be pitied."

Thus do I reason with her as with the wall. "So much the better," says she, "if he has _not_ been entered for the Junior Preparatory."--"What now?" say I.

"Now," says she, "he can go direct to the Senior Preparatory."

Well, Senior Preparatory, there's nothing so terrible in that, for the boy has a head, I tell you! You might search an empire.... And what was the result? Well, what do you suppose? Another two instead of a five, not in mathematics this time--a fresh calamity! His spelling is not what it should be. That is, he can spell all right, but he gets a bit mixed with the two Russian e's. That is, he puts them in right enough, why shouldn't he? only not in their proper places. Well, there's a misfortune for you! I guess I won't find the way to Poltava fair if the child cannot put the e's where they belong! When they brought the good news, _she_ turned the town inside out; ran to the director, declared that the boy _could_ do it; to prove it, let him be had up again! They paid her as much attention as if she were last year's snow, put a two, and another sort of two, and a two with a dash! Call me nut-crackers, but there was a commotion. "Failed again!" say I to her. "And if so,"

say I, "what is to be done? Are we to commit suicide? A Jew," say I, "is used to that sort of thing," upon which she fired up and blazed away and stormed and scolded as only she can. But I let you off! He, poor child, was in a pitiable state. Talk of cruelty to animals! Just think: the other boys in little white b.u.t.tons, and not he! I reason with him: "You little fool! What does it matter? Who ever heard of an examination at which everyone pa.s.sed? Somebody must stay at home, mustn't they? Then why not you? There's really nothing to make such a fuss about." My wife, overhearing, goes off into a fresh fury, and falls upon me. "A fine comforter _you_ are," says she, "who asked you to console him with that sort of nonsense? You'd better see about getting him a proper teacher,"

says she, "a private teacher, a Russian, for grammar!"

You hear that? Now I must have two teachers for him--one teacher and a Rebbe are not enough. Up and down, this way and that way, she got the best of it, as usual.

What next? We engaged a second teacher, a Russian this time, not a Jew, preserve us, but a real Gentile, because grammar in the first cla.s.s, let me tell you, is no trifle, no shredded horseradish! Gra-ma-ti-ke, indeed! The two e's! Well, I was telling about the teacher that G.o.d sent us for our sins. It's enough to make one blush to remember the way he treated us, as though we had been the mud under his feet. Laughed at us to our face, he did, devil take him, and the one and only thing he could teach him was: tshasnok, tshasnoka, tshasnoku, tshasnokom. If it hadn't been for _her_, I should have had him by the throat, and out into the street with his blessed grammar. But to _her_ it was all right and as it should be. Now the boy will know which e to put. If you'll believe me, they tormented him through that whole winter, for he was not to be had up for slaughter till about Pentecost. Pentecost over, he went up for examination, and this time he brought home no more two's, but a four and a five. There was great joy--we congratulate! we congratulate! Wait a bit, don't be in such a hurry with your congratulations! We don't know yet for certain whether he has got in or not. We shall not know till August. Why not till August? Why not before? Go and ask _them_. What is to be done? A Jew is used to that sort of thing.

August--and I gave a glance out of the corner of my eye. She was up and doing! From the director to the inspector, from the inspector to the director! "Why are you running from Shmunin to Bunin," say I, "like a poisoned mouse?"

"You asking why?" says she. "Aren't you a native of this place? You don't seem to know how it is nowadays with the Gymnasiyes and the percentages?" And what came of it? He did _not_ pa.s.s! You ask why?

Because he hadn't two fives. If he had had two fives, then, they say, perhaps he would have got in. You hear--perhaps! How do you like that _perhaps_? Well, I'll let you off what I had to bear from her. As for him, the little boy, it was pitiful. Lay with his face in the cushion, and never stopped crying till we promised him another teacher. And we got him a student from the Gymnasiye itself, to prepare him for the second cla.s.s, but after quite another fashion, because the second cla.s.s is no joke. In the second, besides mathematics and grammar, they require geography, penmanship, and I couldn't for the life of me say what else.

I should have thought a bit of the Maharsho was a more difficult thing than all their studies put together, and very likely had more sense in it, too. But what would you have? A Jew learns to put up with things.

In fine, there commenced a series of "lessons," of ourkki. We rose early--the ourkki! Prayers and breakfast over--the ourkki. A whole day--ourkki. One heard him late at night drumming it over and over: Nominative--dative--instrumental--vocative! It grated so on my ears! I could hardly bear it. Eat? Sleep? Not he! Taking a poor creature and tormenting it like that, all for nothing, I call it cruelty to animals!

"The child," say I, "will be ill!" "Bite off your tongue," says she. I was nowhere, and he went up a second time to the slaughter, and brought home nothing but fives! And why not? I tell you, he has a head--there isn't his like! And such a boy for study as never was, always at it, day and night, and repeating to himself between whiles! That's all right then, is it? Was it all right? When it came to the point, and they hung out the names of all the children who were really entered, we looked--mine wasn't there! Then there was a screaming and a commotion.

What a shame! And nothing but fives! _Now_ look at her, now see her go, see her run, see her do this and that! In short, she went and she ran and she did this and that and the other--until at last they begged her not to worry them any longer, that is, to tell you the truth, between ourselves, they turned her out, yes! And after they had turned her out, then it was she burst into the house, and showed for the first time, as it were, what she was worth. "Pray," said she, "what sort of a father are you? If you were a good father, an affectionate father, like other fathers, you would have found favor with the director, patronage, recommendations, this--that!" Like a woman, wasn't it? It's not enough, apparently, for me to have my head full of terms and seasons and fairs and notes and bills of exchange and "protests" and all the rest of it.

"Do you want me," say I, "to take over your Gymnasiye and your cla.s.ses, things I'm sick of already?" Do you suppose she listened to what I said?

She? Listen? She just kept at it, she sawed and filed and gnawed away like a worm, day and night, day and night! "If your wife," says she, "_were_ a wife, and your child, a child--if I were only of _so_ much account in this house!"--"Well," say I, "what would happen?"--"You would lie," says she, "nine ells deep in the earth. I," says she, "would bury you three times a day, so that you should never rise again!"

How do you like that? Kind, wasn't it? That (how goes the saying?) was pouring a pailful of water over a husband for the sake of peace. Of course, you'll understand that I was not silent, either, because, after all, I'm no more than a man, and every man has his feelings. I a.s.sure you, you needn't envy me, and in the end _she_ carried the day, as usual.

Well, what next? I began currying favor, getting up an acquaintance, trying this and that; I had to lower myself in people's eyes and swallow slights, for every one asked questions, and they had every right to do so. "You, no evil eye, Reb Aaron," say they, "are a householder, and inherited a little something from your father. What good year is taking you about to places where a Jew had better not be seen?" Was I to go and tell them I had a wife (may she live one hundred and twenty years!) with this on the brain: Gymnasiye, Gymnasiye, and Gym-na-si-ye? I (much good may it do you!) am, as you see me, no more unlucky than most people, and with G.o.d's help I made my way, and got where I wanted, right up to the n.o.bleman, into his cabinet, yes! And sat down with him there to talk it over. I thank Heaven, I can talk to any n.o.bleman, I don't need to have my tongue loosened for me. "What can I do for you?" he asks, and bids me be seated. Say I, and whisper into his ear, "My lord," say I, "we," say I, "are not rich people, but we have," say I, "a boy, and he wishes to study, and I," say I, "wish it, too, but my wife wishes it very much!"

Says he to me again, "What is it you want?" Say I to him, and edge a bit closer, "My dear lord," say I, "we," say I, "are not rich people, but we have," say I, "a small fortune, and one remarkably clever boy, who," say I, "wishes to study; and I," say I, "also wish it, but my wife wishes it _very much_!" and I squeeze that "very much" so that he may understand.

But he's a Gentile and slow-witted, and he doesn't twig, and this time he asks angrily, "Then, whatever is it you want?!" I quietly put my hand into my pocket and quietly take it out again, and I say quietly: "Pardon me, we," say I, "are not rich people, but we have a little," say I, "fortune, and one remarkably clever boy, who," say I, "wishes to study; and I," say I, "wish it also, but my wife," say I, "wishes it very much indeed!" and I take and press into his hand----and this time, yes! he understood, and went and got a note-book, and asked my name and my son's name, and which cla.s.s I wanted him entered for.

"Oho, lies the wind that way?" think I to myself, and I give him to understand that I am called Katz, Aaron Katz, and my son, Moisheh, Moshke we call him, and I want to get him into the third cla.s.s. Says he to me, if I am Katz, and my son is Moisheh, Moshke we call him, and he wants to get into cla.s.s three, I am to bring him in January, and he will certainly be pa.s.sed. You hear and understand? Quite another thing!

Apparently the horse trots as we shoe him. The worst is having to wait.

But what is to be done? When they say, Wait! one waits. A Jew is used to waiting.

January--a fresh commotion, a scampering to and fro. To-morrow there will be a consultation. The director and the inspector and all the teachers of the Gymnasiye will come together, and it's only after the consultation that we shall know if he is entered or not. The time for action has come, and my wife is anywhere but at home. No hot meals, no samovar, no nothing! She is in the Gymnasiye, that is, not _in_ the Gymnasiye, but _at_ it, walking round and round it in the frost, from first thing in the morning, waiting for them to begin coming away from the consultation. The frost bites, there is a tearing east wind, and she paces round and round the building, and waits. Once a woman, always a woman! It seemed to me, that when people have made a promise, it is surely sacred, especially--you understand? But who would reason with a woman? Well, she waited one hour, she waited two, waited three, waited four; the children were all home long ago, and she waited on. She waited (much good may it do you!) till she got what she was waiting for. A door opens, and out comes one of the teachers. She springs and seizes hold on him. Does he know the result of the consultation? Why, says he, should he not? They have pa.s.sed altogether twenty-five children, twenty-three Christian and two Jewish. Says she, "Who are they?" Says he, "One a Shefselsohn and one a Katz." At the name Katz, my wife shoots home like an arrow from the bow, and bursts into the room in triumph: "Good news!

good news! Pa.s.sed, pa.s.sed!" and there are tears in her eyes. Of course, I am pleased, too, but I don't feel called upon to go dancing, being a man and not a woman. "It's evidently not much _you_ care?" says she to me. "What makes you think that?" say I.--"This," says she, "you sit there cold as a stone! If you knew how impatient the child is, you would have taken him long ago to the tailor's, and ordered his little uniform," says she, "and a cap and a satchel," says she, "and made a little banquet for our friends."--"Why a banquet, all of a sudden?" say I. "Is there a Bar-Mitzveh? Is there an engagement?" I say all this quite quietly, for, after all, I am a man, not a woman. She grew so angry that she stopped talking. And when a woman stops talking, it's a thousand times worse than when she scolds, because so long as she is scolding at least you hear the sound of the human voice. Otherwise it's talk to the wall! To put it briefly, she got her way--she, not I--as usual.

There was a banquet; we invited our friends and our good friends, and my boy was dressed up from head to foot in a very smart uniform, with white b.u.t.tons and a cap with a badge in front, quite the district-governor!

And it did one's heart good to see him, poor child! There was new life in him, he was so happy, and he shone, I tell you, like the July sun!

The company drank to him, and wished him joy: Might he study in health, and finish the course in health, and go on in health, till he reached the university! "Ett!" say I, "we can do with less. Let him only complete the eight cla.s.ses at the Gymnasiye," say I, "and, please G.o.d, I'll make a bridegroom of him, with G.o.d's help." Cries my wife, smiling and fixing me with her eye the while, "Tell him," says she, "that he's wrong! He," says she, "keeps to the old-fashioned cut." "Tell her from me," say I, "that I'm blest if the old-fashioned cut wasn't better than the new." Says she, "Tell him that he (may he forgive me!) is----" The company burst out laughing. "Oi, Reb Aaron," say they, "you have a wife (no evil eye!) who is a Cossack and not a wife at all!" Meanwhile they emptied their wine-gla.s.ses, and cleared their plates, and we were what is called "lively." I and my wife were what is called "taken into the boat," the little one in the middle, and we made merry till daylight.

That morning early we took him to the Gymnasiye. It was very early, indeed, the door was shut, not a soul to be seen. Standing outside there in the frost, we were glad enough when the door opened, and they let us in. Directly after that the small fry began to arrive with their satchels, and there was a noise and a commotion and a chatter and a laughing and a scampering to and fro--a regular fair! Schoolboys jumped over one another, gave each other punches, pokes, and pinches. As I looked at these young hopefuls with the red cheeks, with the merry, laughing eyes, I called to mind our former narrow, dark, and gloomy Cheder of long ago years, and I saw that after all she was right; she might be a woman, but she had a man's head on her shoulders! And as I reflected thus, there came along an individual in gilt b.u.t.tons, who turned out to be a teacher, and asked what I wanted. I pointed to my boy, and said I had come to bring him to Cheder, that is, to the Gymnasiye. He asked to which cla.s.s? I tell him, the third, and he has only just been entered. He asks his name. Say I, "Katz, Moisheh Katz, that is, Moshke Katz." Says he, "Moshke Katz?" He has no Moshke Katz in the third cla.s.s. "There is," he says, "a Katz, only not a Moshke Katz, but a Morduch--Morduch Katz." Say I, "What Morduch? Moshke, not Morduch!" "Morduch!" he repeats, and thrusts the paper into my face. I to him, "Moshke." He to me, "Morduch!" In short, Moshke--Morduch, Morduch--Moshke, we hammer away till there comes out a fine tale: that which should have been mine is another's. You see what a kettle of fish?

A regular Gentile muddle! They have entered a Katz--yes! But, by mistake, another, not ours. You see how it was: there were two Katz's in our town! What do you say to such luck? I have made a bed, and another will lie in it! No, but you ought to know who the other is, _that_ Katz, I mean! A nothing of a n.o.body, an artisan, a bookbinder or a carpenter, quite a harmless little man, but who ever heard of him? A pauper! And _his_ son--yes! And mine--no! Isn't it enough to disgust one, I ask you!

And you should have seen that poor boy of mine, when he was told to take the badge off his cap! No bride on her wedding-day need shed more tears than were his! And no matter how I reasoned with him, whether I coaxed or scolded. "You see," I said to her, "what you've done! Didn't I tell you that your Gymnasiye was a slaughter-house for him? I only trust this may have a good ending, that he won't fall ill."--"Let my enemies," said she, "fall ill, if they like. My child," says she, "must enter the Gymnasiye. If he hasn't got in this time, in a year, please G.o.d, he _will_. If he hasn't got in," says she, "_here_, he will get in in another town--he _must_ get in! Otherwise," says she, "I shall shut an eye, and the earth shall cover me!" You hear what she said? And who, do you suppose, had his way--she or I? When _she_ sets her heart on a thing, can there be any question?

Well, I won't make a long story of it. I hunted up and down with him; we went to the ends of the world, wherever there was a town and a Gymnasiye, thither went we! We went up for examination, and were examined, and we pa.s.sed and pa.s.sed high, and did _not_ get in--and why?

All because of the percentage! You may believe, I looked upon my own self as crazy those days! "Wretch! what is this? What is this flying that you fly from one town to another? What good is to come of it? And suppose he does get in, what then?" No, say what you will, ambition is a great thing. In the end it took hold of me, too, and the Almighty had compa.s.sion, and sent me a Gymnasiye in Poland, a "commercial" one, where they took in one Jew to every Christian. It came to fifty per cent. But what then? Any Jew who wished his son to enter must bring his Christian with him, and if he pa.s.ses, that is, the Christian, and one pays his entrance fee, then there is hope. Instead of one bundle, one has two on one's shoulders, you understand? Besides being worn with anxiety about my own, I had to tremble for the other, because if Esau, which Heaven forbid, fail to pa.s.s, it's all over with Jacob. But what I went through before I _got_ that Christian, a shoemaker's son, Holiava his name was, is not to be described. And the best of all was this--would you believe that my shoemaker, planted in the earth firmly as Korah, insisted on Bible teaching? There was nothing for it but my son had to sit down beside his, and repeat the Old Testament. How came a son of mine to the Old Testament? Ai, don't ask! He can do everything and understands everything.

With G.o.d's help the happy day arrived, and they both pa.s.sed. Is my story finished? Not quite. When it came to their being entered in the books, to writing out a check, my Christian was not to be found! What has happened? He, the Gentile, doesn't care for his son to be among so many Jews--he won't hear of it! Why should he, seeing that all doors are open to him anyhow, and he can get in where he pleases? Tell him it isn't fair? Much good that would be! "Look here," say I, "how much do you want, Pani Holiava?" Says he, "Nothing!" To cut the tale short--up and down, this way and that way, and friends and people interfering, we had him off to a refreshment place, and ordered a gla.s.s, and two, and three, before it all came right! Once he was really in, I cried my eyes out, and thanks be to Him whose Name is blessed, and who has delivered me out of all my troubles! When I got home, a fresh worry! What now? My wife has been reflecting and thinking it over: After all, her only son, the apple of her eye--he would be _there_ and we _here_! And if so, what, says she, would life be to her? "Well," say I, "what do you propose doing?"--"What I propose doing?" says she. "Can't you guess? I propose,"

says she, "to be with him."--"You do?" say I. "And the house? What about the house?"--"The house," says she, "is a house." Anything to object to in that? So she was off to him, and I was left alone at home. And what a home! I leave you to imagine. May such a year be to my enemies! My comfort was gone, the business went to the bad. Everything went to the bad, and we were continually writing letters. I wrote to her, she wrote to me--letters went and letters came. Peace to my beloved wife! Peace to my beloved husband! "For Heaven's sake," I write, "what is to be the end of it? After all, I'm no more than a man! A man without a housemistress!" It was as much use as last year's snow; it was she who had her way, she, and not I, as usual.

To make an end of my story, I worked and worried myself to pieces, made a mull of the whole business, sold out, became a poor man, and carried my bundle over to them. Once there, I took a look round to see where I was in the world, nibbled here and there, just managed to make my way a bit, and entered into a partnership with a trader, quite a respectable man, yes! A well-to-do householder, holding office in the Shool, but at bottom a deceiver, a swindler, a pickpocket, who was nearly the ruin of me! You can imagine what a cheerful state of things it was. Meanwhile I come home one evening, and see my boy come to meet me, looking strangely red in the face, and without a badge on his cap. Say I to him, "Look here, Moshehl, where's your badge?" Says he to me, "Whatever badge?" Say I, "The b.u.t.ton." Says he, "Whatever b.u.t.ton?" Say I, "The b.u.t.ton off your cap." It was a new cap with a new badge, only just bought for the festival! He grows redder than before, and says, "Taken off." Say I, "What do you mean by 'taken off'?" Says he, "I am free."

Say I, "What do you mean by 'you are free'?" Says he, "We are _all_ free." Say I, "What do you mean by 'we are _all_ free'?" Says he, "We are not going back any more." Say I, "What do you mean by 'we are not going back'?" Says he, "We have united in the resolve to stay away." Say I, "What do you mean by '_you_' have united in a resolve? Who are 'you'?

What is all this? Bless your grandmother," say I, "do you suppose I have been through all this for you to unite in a resolve? Alas! and alack!"

say I, "for you and me and all of us! May it please G.o.d not to let this be visited on Jewish heads, because always and everywhere," say I, "Jews are the scapegoats." I speak thus to him and grow angry and reprove him as a father usually does reprove a child. But I have a wife (long life to her!), and she comes running, and washes my head for me, tells me I don't know what is going on in the world, that the world is quite another world to what it used to be, an intelligent world, an open world, a free world, "a world," says she, "in which all are equal, in which there are no rich and no poor, no masters and no servants, no sheep and no shears, no cats, rats, no piggy-wiggy--------" "Te-te-te!"

say I, "where have you learned such fine language? a new speech," say I, "with new words. Why not open the hen-house, and let out the hens?

Chuck--chuck--chuck, hurrah for freedom!" Upon which she blazes up as if I had poured ten pails of hot water over her. And now for it! As only _they_ can! Well, one must sit it out and listen to the end. The worst of it is, there is no end. "Look here," say I, "hush!" say I, "and now let be!" say I, and beat upon my breast. "I have sinned!" say I, "I have transgressed, and now stop," say I, "if you would only be quiet!" But she won't hear, and she won't see. No, she says, she will know why and wherefore and for goodness' sake and exactly, and just how it was, and what it means, and how it happened, and once more and a second time, and all over again from the beginning!