IN THOSE DAYS

 THE STORY OF AN OLD MAN

 BY

 JEHUDAH STEINBERG

 TRANSLATED FROM THE HEBREW BY

 GEORGE JESHURUN

 1915

 IN THOSE DAYS

 THE STORY OF AN OLD MAN

I

When the time drew near for Samuel the Beadle to let his son beginhis term of military service, he betook himself to the market, purchased a regulation shirt, a knapsack, and a few other thingsneeded by a soldier--and he did not forget the main item: he ran andfetched a bottle of liquor. Then he went home. 

And there, in the presence of his neighbors, of whom I had theprivilege of being one, he drank a glassful to "long life, " andoffered another to Rebekah, his good wife. 

"Drink, madam, " said he, merrily. At this Rebekah turned up hernose, as if ready to blurt out with "How often have you seen medrink liquor?"

Indeed, it was an affront which she would not have passed over insilence at any other time, but she had no heart for an open quarreljust then, when about to part with her son, and was satisfied with asilent refusal. 

"Woman, " said Samuel, angrily, "take it, and do as you are told!"But Rebekah was not impressed by his angry tone, for in fact Samuelwas an easy "lord and master. " As to his loudness, it was but partof an old habit of his, dating from the days of his own militaryservice, to bully his inferiors and to let those above him inauthority bully him. 

"So are they all of his kind, " she would often explain to herneighbors. "They just fuss, to blow off their tempers, andthen--one may sit on them. "

Rebekah persisted in her refusal, and Samuel began in a softer tone:

"But why does it worry you so much? Woman, woman, it is not toShemad, God forbid, that he is going!"

At the mention of conversion, Rebekah burst into tears, for Samuelhad unintentionally touched her sore spot: there were rumors in thetown that her family was not without blemish. 

"Now that you are crying, " exclaimed Samuel, thoroughly angry, "youare not only hard-headed, but also silly, simply silly! 'Long ofhair but short of sense. ' To cry and cry, and not know wherefore!"With this Samuel turned towards us, and began to plead his case. 

"Have you ever seen such a cry-baby? Five times in her life shefilled the world with a hue and cry, when she bore me a child, andevery time it was but an empty bubble: five girls she brought me!Then, beginning with the sixth birth, she was fortunate enough toget boys, the real thing. Three sons she gave me as my old age wasapproaching. And now, when she ought to thank Heaven for havingbeen found worthy of raising a soldier for the army, she cries!Think of it--your son enters the army a free man; but I, in mytime, --well, well, I was taken by force when a mere youngster!"

Here the old man settled his account with the bottle, and took leaveof his crying wife and his good neighbors, and in the company of hisson mounted the coach waiting outside, ready to go to H. , thecapital of the district, where the recruits had to report. 

By special good fortune I was going to H. By the same coach, and soI came to hear the story of old Samuel's life from the beginningtill that day. 

It was the rainy season; the roads were muddy, and the horses movedwith difficulty. The driver made frequent stops, and whenever theroad showed the slightest inclination to go uphill he would intimatethat it might be well for us to dismount and walk beside the coach alittle. 

The cold drizzle penetrated to our very skin and made our fleshcreep. The warmth we had brought with us from the house wasevaporating, and with it went the merry humor of the old man. Hebegan to contemplate his son, who sat opposite to him, looking himover up and down. 

The wise "lord and master, " who had tried to instruct his wife athome and celebrate the fact of her having reared a soldier for thearmy, he failed himself to stand the trial: he began to feel thepangs of longing and lonesomeness. The imminent parting with hisson, to take place on the morrow, seemed to depress him greatly. 

Bent and silent he sat, and one could see that he was lost in a mazeof thoughts and emotions, which came crowding in upon him in spiteof himself. 

I took a seat opposite to him, so that I might enter into aconversation with him. 

"Do you remember all that happened to you in those days?" I asked byway of starting the conversation. 

He seemed to welcome my question. In that hour of trial the old manwas eager to unload his bosom, to share his thoughts with some one, and return mentally to all the landmarks of his own life, till hereached the period corresponding to that into which he wasintroducing his son. The old man took out his well-beloved shortpipe. According to his story it had been a present from hissuperior officer, and it had served him ever since. He filled thepipe, struck a match, and was enveloped in smoke. 

II

You ask me whether I remember everything--he began from behind thesmoke. Why, I see it all as if it had happened yesterday. I do notknow exactly how old I was then. I remember only that my brotherSolomon became a Bar-Mitzwah at that time. Then there was Dovidl, another brother, younger than Solomon, but older than myself; but hehad died before that time. I must have been about eleven years old. 

Just then the mothers fell a-worrying: a Catcher was coming to town. According to some he had already arrived. 

At the Heder the boys were telling one another that the Catcher wasa monster, who caught boys, made soldiers out of them, and turnedthem over to the Government, in place of the Jewish grown-ups thatwere unwilling and unable to serve. And the boys were divided intheir opinions: some said that the Catcher was a demon, one of thosewho had been created at twilight on the eve of the Sabbath. Otherssaid that he was simply a "heathen, " and some others, that he was an"apostate. " Then, there were some who asserted that he was merely abad Jew, though a learned one nevertheless;--that he wore theregular Jewish costume, the long coat and the broad waistband, andhad the Tallis-Koton on his breast, so that the curse of therighteous could not hurt him. According to rumor, he was in thehabit of distributing nuts and candy among Jewish boys; and if anyone tasted of them, he could not move from the spot, until theCatcher put his hand on him and "caught" him. I happened tooverhear a conversation between father and mother, and I gatheredfrom it that I need not fear the Catcher. 

It was a Saturday night, soon after the death of my elder brotherDovidl, within the period of the thirty days' mourning for him. Mother would not be consoled, for Dovidl had been her "very best. "

Three brothers had I. The first-born, Simhah, may he rest in peace, had been married long before; he was the junior Shohet in town, anda candidate for the Rabbinate. Solomon was more learned in theTorah, young though he was, peace be unto him. . . . Well, they arenow in the world-of-truth, in the world-to-come, both of them. ButDovidl, had he lived, would have excelled them both. That is theway of the Angel of Death, he chooses the very best. As tomyself--why deny it?--I was a dullard. Somehow my soul was notattuned to the Torah. 

As I said, mother was uttering complaints against Heaven, alwayscrying. Yes, in the matter of tears they are experts. I havepondered over it, and have found it out: fish were created out ofthe mud-puddle, and woman out of tears. Father used to scold hermightily, but she did not mind it; and she never ceased bemoaningDovidl and crying unto Heaven, "who gave the Angel of Death powerover him. "

On the night after Sabbath, when father had extinguished the taperin the dregs of the Havdolah cup, he turned to mother, and said:"Now man born of woman is unwise all his life long. He knows nothow to thank for the sorrows that have been sweetened by His mercy, blessed be He!"

Mother did not understand, and looked at father questioningly. "TheCatcher is in town, " explained father. 

"The Catcher!" shuddered mother. 

"But he takes only Fourths and upwards, " said father, reassuringly. 

Fourths, Fifths, etc. , those households were called which had four, or five, or more sons. 

"And our household has only three sons at present, " continuedfather. "Do you understand, woman? Three sons were left to us, andour household is exempt from military duty. Now do you see themercy of the Lord, blessed be He? Do you still murmur against Him, blessed be He?"--

So it was in those days. Every Jewish community had to deliver acertain fixed number of recruits to the Government annually. Thisnumber was apportioned among the families, and every family taxedthe households composing it. But not every household had to supplya recruit. A household with a large number of sons secured theexemption of a household with fewer sons. For instance, a householdwith four sons in it was exempted, if there was a household withfive sons to levy from in the same family. And a household of threesons was spared when there was, in the same family, a household offour sons. And so forth. --

And as father was speaking--the old man continued--mothercontemplated us, as one that escapes from a fire contemplates thesaved remnants; and her eyes overflowed with silent tears. Thosewere the last tears shed over the grave of Dovidl, and for thosetears father had no rebuke. We felt that Dovidl was a saint: he haddeparted this life to save us from the hand of the Catcher. Itseemed to me that the soul of Dovidl was flitting about the room, listening to everything, and noticing that we were pleased that hehad died; and I felt ashamed. 

The next day I went to the Heder, somewhat proud of myself. Iboasted before my mates that I was a Third. The Fourths envied me;the Fifths envied the Fourths, and all of us envied the Seconds andthe only sons. So little chaps, youngsters who knew not what theirlife was going to be, came to know early that brothers, sons of onefather, may at times be a source of trouble to one another. 

That was at the beginning of the summer. 

The teachers decided that we remain within the walls of the Hedermost of the time, and show ourselves outside as little as possibleduring the period of danger. But a decree like that was more thanboys could stand, especially in those beautiful summer days. 

Meanwhile the Catcher came to town, and set his eye on theson-in-law of the rich Reb Yossel, peace be unto him. The name ofthe young man was Avremel Hourvitz--a fine, genteel young man. Hehad run away from his home in Poland and come to our town, and wasspending his time at the Klaus studying the Torah. And Reb Yossel, may he rest in peace, had to spend a pile of money before he gotAvremel for his daughter. From the same Polish town came theCatcher, to take Avremel as the recruit of the family Hourvitz dueto the Jewish community of his city. When he laid his hand onAvremel, the town was shocked. The rabbi himself sent for theCatcher, and promised to let him have, without any contention, someone else instead of Avremel. Then they began to look for ahousehold with the family name of Hourvitz, and they found myfather's. Before that happened I had never suspected that my fatherhad anything like a family name. For some time the deal remained adeep secret. But no secret is proof against a mother's intuition, and my mother scented the thing. She caught me by the arm--I do notknow why she picked me out--rushed with me to the rabbi, and made ithot for him. 

"Is this justice, rabbi? Did I bear and rear children, only to giveup my son for the sake of some Avremel?!"

The rabbi sighed, cast down his eyes, and argued, that said Avremelwas not simply "an Avremel, " but a "veritable jewel, " a profoundLamdan, a noble-hearted man, destined to become great in Israel. Itwas unjust to give him away, when there was someone else to take hisplace. Besides, Avremel was a married man, and the father of aninfant child. "Now where is justice?" demanded the rabbi. But mymother persisted. For all she knew, her own sons might yet grow upto become ornaments to israel . . . And she, too, was observing theordinances of the Hallah and the Sabbath candles, and the rest ofthe laws, no less than Avremel's mother. 

More arguments, more tears without arguments--till the rabbisoftened: he could not resist a woman. Then mother took me andSolomon up to the garret, and ordered us not to venture outside. --

Here the old man interrupted himself by a soft sigh, andcontinued:--

To a great extent it was my own fault, wild boy that I was. I brokemy mother's injunction. In the alley, near the house of my parents, there lived a wine-dealer, Bendet by name. Good wine was to befound in his cellar. For this reason army officers and otherpersons of rank frequented his place, and he was somewhat of afavorite with them. In short, though he lived in a mean littlealley, those important personages were not averse to calling at hishouse. That Bendet had an only child, a daughter. She wasconsidered beautiful and educated. I had not known her. In my daythey spoke ill of her. Naturally, her father loved her. Is there afather who loves not his offspring? And how much more such adaughter, whom everyone loved. However that may be, one dayBendet's daughter broke away, left her father's house, and renouncedher faith--may we be spared such a fate! And many years after herfather's death she returned to our town, to take possession of herportion of the inheritance. That happened at a time when we werehiding in the garret. The town was all agog: people ran from everystreet to get a look at the renegade, who came to take possession ofa Jewish inheritance. I, too, was seized with a wild desire to geta look at her, to curse her, to spit in her face . . . . And Iforgot all the dangers that surrounded me. 

Young as I was, I considered myself as a Jew responsible for thewayward one. I lost control of myself, and ran out. But after Ihad been in the street for some time, I was seized with fear of theCatcher. Every stranger I met seemed to me to be a Catcher. Ishrank into myself, walked unsteadily hither and thither, and didnot know how to hide myself. Then a man met me. His large beardand curled side-locks made me think he was a good man. I looked athim imploringly. "What ails you, my boy?" he asked in a soft tone. "I am afraid of the Catcher, " said I, tearfully. 

"Whose son are you?"

I told him. 

"Then come with me, and I shall hide you, my boy. Don't be afraid. I am your uncle. Don't you recognize me?"

He took me by the arm, and I went after him. Then I noticed thatthe children of my neighborhood were eyeing me terror-stricken. Thewomenfolk saw me, wrung their hands, and lamented aloud. 

"What are they crying about?" I wondered. 

"Do you want some candy? Your uncle has plenty of it, " said he, bending over me, as if to protect me. "Or maybe your feet hurt you? Let your uncle take you on his arms. " As soon as I heard "candy, "I felt that the man was the Catcher himself, and I tried to breakaway. But the "uncle" held me fast. Then I began to yell. It wasnear our house, and the people of our alley rushed towards us, someyelling, some crying, some armed with sticks. Pretty soon Irecognized my mother's voice in the mixture of voices and noises. You see, peculiar is the charm of a mother's voice: a knife may beheld to one's throat, but the mere sound of mother's voice awakensnew courage and begets new hope. Mother made a way for herself, andfell upon the Catcher like a wild beast. She struck, she pinched, she scratched, she pulled his hair, she bit him. But what can awoman do in the line of beating? Nothing! Her neighbors joinedher, one, two, three; and all tried hard to take me out of the handsof the Catcher. What can a few women do against one able-bodiedman? Nothing at all! That happened during the dinner hour. One ofour neighbors got the best of the Catcher, a woman who happenedrather to dislike me and my mother; they quarreled frequently. Perhaps on account of this very dislike she was not over-excited, and was able to hit upon the right course to take at the criticalmoment. She went to our house, took in one hand a potful of roastedgroats, ready for dinner, and in the other a kettle of boilingwater. Unnoticed she approached the Catcher, spilled the hot groatsupon his hands, and at the same time she poured the boiling waterover them. A wild yell escaped from the mouth of the Catcher--and Iwas free. --

There was no more tobacco in the pipe, and the old man lost hisspeech. That was the way of Samuel the Beadle; he could tell hisstory only from behind the smoke of his pipe, when he did not seehis hearers, nor his hearers saw him. In that way he found it easyto put his boyhood before his mind's eye and conjure up thereminiscences of those days. Meanwhile the horses had stopped, andlet us know that a high and steep hill was ahead of us, and that itwas our turn to trudge through the mud. We had to submit to thewill of the animals, and we dismounted. 

III

After tramping a while alongside the coach, the old man lit hispipe, emitted a cloud of smoke, and continued:--

I do not know what happened then. I cannot tell who caught me, northe place I was taken to. I must have been in a trance all thewhile. 

When I awoke, I found myself surrounded by a flock of sheep, in ameadow near the woods. Near me was my brother Solomon; but I hardlyrecognized him. He wore peasant clothes: a linen shirt turned outover linen breeches and gathered in by a broad belt. I was eyeingmy brother, and he was eyeing me, both of us equally bewildered, forI was disguised like himself. 

A little boy, a real peasant boy, was standing near us. He smiledat us in a good-natured, hospitable way. It was the chore-boy ofthe Jewish quarter. On the Sabbaths of the winter months he kept upthe fires in the Jewish houses; that is why he could jabber a fewwords of Yiddish. During the summer he took care of the flocks ofthe peasants that lived in the neighborhood. 

When I awoke, my mother was with us too. She kissed us amid tears, gave us some bread and salt, and, departing, strictly forbade us tospeak any Yiddish. "For God's sake, speak no Yiddish, " said she, "you might be recognized! Hide here till the Catcher leaves town. "

It was easy enough to say, "Speak no Yiddish"; but did we know howto speak any other language?

I saw then that I was in a sort of hiding-place--a hiding-placeunder the open sky! I realized that I had escaped from houses, garrets, and cellars, merely to hide in the open field betweenheaven and earth. I had fled from darkness, to hide in broaddaylight!

Indeed, it was not light that I had to fear. Nor was it the sun, the moon, or the sheep. It was only man that I had to avoid. 

Mother went away and left us under the protection of the littleshepherd boy. And he was a good boy, indeed. He watched us to thebest of his ability. As soon as he saw any one approach our place, he called out loudly: "No, no; these are not Jewish boys at all! Onmy life, they are not!"

As a matter of facet, a stranger did happen to visit our place; buthe was only a butcher, who came to buy sheep for slaughtering. 

Well, the sun had set, and night came. It was my first night underan open sky. I suffered greatly from fear, for there was no Mezuzahanywhere near me. I put my hand under my Shaatnez clothes, and feltmy Tzitzis: they, too, seemed to be in hiding, for they shook in myhand. 

Over us the dark night sky was spread out, and it seemed to me thatthe stars were so many omens whose meaning I could not make out. But I felt certain that they meant nothing good so far as I wasconcerned. All kinds of whispers, sizzling sounds of the night, reached my ears, and I knew not where they came from. 

Looking down, I saw sparks a-twinkling. I knew they were starsreflected in the near-by stream. But soon I thought it was not thewater and the stars: the sheen of the water became the broad smileof some giant stretched out flat upon the ground; and the sparkswere the twinkling of his eyes. And the sheep were not sheep atall, but some strange creatures moving to and fro, spreading out, and coming together again in knotted masses. I imagined they allwere giants bewitched to appear as sheep by day and to become giantsagain by night. Then I knew too well that the thick, dark forestwas behind me; and what doesn't one find in a forest? Is there anunholy spirit that cannot be found there? Z-z-z- - - - a suddensizzling whisper reached my ear, and I began to cry. 

"Why don't you sleep?" asked the shepherd boy in his broken Yiddish. 

"I am afraid!"

"What are you afraid of?"

"Of--of--the woods . . . . "

"Ha--ha--ha--I have good dogs with the flock!"

I wanted a Mezuzah, some talisman, a protection against evilspirits, and that fool offered me barking dogs! All at once hewhistled loudly, and his dogs set up a barking that nearly made medeaf. The flock was panic-stricken. I thought at first that theearth had opened her mouth, and packs of dogs were breaking out fromhell. 

The noise the dogs made broke the awful hush of the night, and myfears were somewhat dispelled. 

But there were other reasons why I liked to hear the dogs bark. Iwas myself the owner of a dog, which I had raised on the sly in myfather's house. Imagine the horror of my brother Solomon, who as areal Jewish lad was very much afraid of a dog!

In that way we spent a few days, hiding under the open sky, disguised in our Shaatnez clothes. Soon enough the time came whenmy parents _had_ to understand what they would not understand whenthe rabbi wanted to give me up in place of the famous Avremel. Forthey caught my oldest brother Simhah, may he rest in peace. AndSimhah was a privileged person; he was not only the Shohet of thecommunity and a great Lamdan, but also a married man, and the fatherof four children to boot. Only then, it seems, my parentsunderstood what the rabbi had understood before: that it was notfair to deliver up my brother when I, the ignorant fellow, the loverof dogs, might take his place. A few days later mother came andtook us home. As to the rest, others had seen to it. --

Here the old man stopped for a while. He was puffing and snorting, tired from the hard walk uphill. Having reached the summit, heturned around, looked downhill, straightened up, and took a deepbreath. "This is an excellent way of getting rid of your tiredfeeling, " said he. "Turn around and look downhill: then yourstrength will return to you. "--

IV

We had left the coach far behind, and had to wait till it overtookus. Meanwhile I looked downhill into the valley below: it was averitable sea of slush. The teams that followed ours sank into it, and seemed not to be moving at all. The oblique rays of the settingsun, reflected and radiating in every direction, lent a peculiarglitter to the slushy wagons and the broken sheet of mire, as ifpointing out their beauty to the darkening sky. So much lightwasted, I thought. But on the summit of the hill on which I wasstanding, the direct rays of the sun promised a good hour more ofdaylight. 

The old man drew breath, and continued his story:--

Well, I was caught, and put into prison. I was not alone. Manyyoung boys had been brought there. Some were crying bitterly; somelooked at their companions wonderingly. We were told that the nextday we should be taken away to some place, and that the rabbi wishedto come to see us, but was not permitted to enter our prison. 

Yes, a good man was the rabbi, may he rest in peace; yet he wascompelled to cheat for once. And when an honest man is compelled tocheat he may outdo the cleverest crook. Do you want to know whatthe rabbi did? He disguised himself as a peasant, went out, andwalked the streets with the rolling gait of a drunkard. The nightguards stopped him, and asked him what his business was. "I am athief, " said the rabbi. Then the guards arrested him, and put himinto the prison with us. 

In the darkness of that night the rabbi never ceased talking to us, swallowing his own tears all the while. He told us the story ofJoseph the righteous. It had been decreed in Heaven, said therabbi, that his brethren should sell Joseph into slavery. And itwas the will of the Almighty that Joseph should come to Egypt, toshow the Egyptians that there is only one God in Heaven, and thatthe Children of Israel are the chosen people. 

Then the rabbi examined us: Did we know our Modeh-Ani by heart?did we know our Shema?

He told us that we should be taken very, very far away, that weshould be away many, many years, and should become soldiers whengrown up. Then he warned us never to eat of any food forbidden bythe Jewish law, and never to forget the God of Israel and our ownpeople, even if they tore our flesh with thorns. He told us alsothe story of the Ten Martyrs, who sacrificed their lives to sanctifythe God of Israel. He told us of the mother and her seven childrenthat were killed for having refused to bow before idols; and he toldus many more such things. All those saints and martyrs, he said, are now in Paradise, enjoying the bliss of the Divine Presence. That night I really envied those saints; I longed with all my heartto be forced to bow to idols, to have to withstand all sorts oftrials, so as to enjoy, after my death, the bliss of the DivinePresence in Paradise. 

Many more stories the rabbi told us; many more words of warning, encouragement, and praise came from his lips, till I really believedI was the one whom God had picked out from among my equals, to beput through great trials and temptations. . . . 

Morning came, and the guard entered the prison. Then the rabbiturned towards us, and said: "Lambs of the God of Israel, we have topart now: I am going to be lashed and imprisoned for having enteredthis place by a trick, and you will be taken into exile, to undergoyour trials! I may hardly expect to be found worthy of survivingtill you return. But there, in the world-of-truth, we shall surelymeet. May it be the will of God that I may have no reason to beashamed of you there, before Him and His angels, in Heaven!"

We parted, and the words of the rabbi sank deep into my heart. 

Then they began dumping us into wagons. The obstreperous boys, whotried to run away, were many of them bound with ropes and throwninto the wagon. Of course, we all howled. 

I did not hear my own voice, nor the voice of my neighbor. It wasall one great howl. A crowd of men and women followed ourwagon--the parents of the boys. Very likely they cried, too; but wecould not hear their voices. The town, the fields, heaven andearth, seemed to cry with us. 

I caught sight of my parents, and my heart was filled with somethinglike anger and hatred. I felt that I had been sacrificed for mybrother. 

My mother, among many other mothers, approached the wagon, looked atme, and apparently read my thoughts: she fainted away, and fell tothe ground. The accident held up the crowd, which busied itselfwith reviving my mother, while our wagon rolled away. 

My heart was filled with a mixture of anger, pity, and terror. Inthat mood of mixed feelings I parted from my parents. 

We cried and cried, got tired, and finally became still from sheerexhaustion. Presently a noise reached our ears, something like theyelling of children. We thought it was another wagonload of boyslike ourselves. But soon we found out our mistake: it was but awagonload of sheep that were being taken to slaughter. . . . 

Of course, we ate nothing the whole of that day, though the mothershad not failed to provide us with food. Meanwhile the sun had set;it got dark, and the boys who had been bound with ropes werereleased by the guard: he knew they would not attempt to escape atthat time. We fell asleep, but every now and then one of the boyswould wake up, crying, quietly at first, then louder and louder. Then another would join him; one more, and yet one more, till we allwere yelling in chorus, filling the night air with our bitter cries. Even the guard could not stand it; he scolded us, and belabored uswith his whip. That crying of ours reminds me of what we read inlamentations: "Weeping she hath wept in the night. . . . "

Morning came, and found us all awake: we were waiting for daylight. We believed it would bring us freedom, that angels would descendfrom Heaven, just as they had descended to our father Jacob, tosmite our guard and set us free. At the same time, the rising sunbrought us all a feeling of hunger. We began to sigh, each andevery one of us separately. But the noise we made did not amounteven to the barking of a few dogs or the cawing of a few crows. That is what hunger can do. And when the guard had distributedamong us some of the food we had brought with us, we ate it withrelish, and felt satisfied. At the same time we began to feel thediscomfort we were causing one another, cooped up as we were in thewagon. I began to complain of my neighbor, who was sitting on mylegs. He claimed that I was pressing against him with my shoulder. We all began to look up to the guard, as if expecting that he couldor would prevent us from torturing one another. 

Still I had some fun even on that day of weeping. I happened toturn around, and I noticed that Barker, my dog, was running afterour wagon. 

"Too bad, foolish Barker, " said I, laughing at him in spite of myheartache. "Do you think I am going to a feast? It is into exilethat I am going; and what do you run after me for?"--

This made old Samuel laugh; he laughed like a child, as if the thinghad just happened before his eyes, and as if it were really comical. Meanwhile our coach had reached the top of the hill; we jumped intoour seats, and proceeded to make one another uncomfortable. 

The old man glanced at his son, who was sitting opposite to him. Itwas a loving and tender look, issuing from under long shaggyeyebrows, a beautiful, gentle, almost motherly look, out of accordwith the hard-set face of an irritable and stern father. 

The old man made his son's seat comfortable for him, and then fellsilent. 

V

I am going to pass over a long time--resumed the old man later. There was much traveling and many stops; much tramping on foot, withlegs swollen; but all that has nothing to do with the subject. 

Once in a while our guard would get angry at us, curse us bitterly, and strike us with his whip. "You cursed Jews, " he would say, "do Iowe you anything that I should suffer so much on your account, andundergo all the hardships of travel?"

Indeed, there was a good deal of truth in what he said. For, willingly or unwillingly, we did give him much trouble. Had wedied, say the year before, or even at that very moment, he would nothave been put to the necessity of leading a crowd of half-dumb boys. He would not have had to stand the hardships of travel, and wouldnot have been compelled to listen to the wailings of children tornfrom the arms of their parents. Or do you think it is agreeable tofeel that little children consider you a hard and cruel man? When Igrew up and served in the army myself, and had people below me inage and position under my command, I came to understand the troublesof our guard; so that now, after having gone through manyexperiences, after I have passed, as they say, through fire andwater, I may confess that I bear no malice towards all those atwhose hands I suffered. There are many ex-Cantonists who cannotforget the birch-rod, for instance. Well, so much is true: forevery misstep, for every sign of disobedience a whipping was due. If one of us refused to kneel in prayer before the crucifix; if oneof us refused to eat pork; if one of us was caught mumbling a Hebrewprayer or speaking Yiddish, he was sure to get a flogging. Twenty, thirty, forty, or even full fifty lashes were the punishment. But, then, is it conceivable that they could have treated us any otherway? Why, hundreds of Jewish children that did not understand aword of Russian had been delivered into the hands of a Russianofficial that did not understand a word of Yiddish. He would say, Take off my boots, and the boy would wash his hands. He would say, Sit down, and the boy would stand up. Were we not like dumb cattle? It was only the rod that we understood well. And the rod taught usto understand our master's orders by the mere expression of hiseyes. 

Then many of the ex-Cantonists still remember with horror thesteam-bath they were compelled to take. "The chamber of hell, " theycalled the bath. At first blush, it would really seem to have beenan awful thing. They would pick out all the Cantonists that had somuch as a scratch on their bodies or the smallest sign of aneruption, paint the wounds with tar, and put the boys, stripped, onthe highest shelf in the steam-bath. And below was a row ofattendants armed with birch-rods. The kettle was boiling fiercely, the stones were red-hot, and the attendants emptied jars of boilingwater ceaselessly upon the stones. The steam would rise, penetrateevery pore of the skin, and--sting! sting!--enter into the veryflesh. The pain was horrible; it pricked, and pricked, and therewas no air to breathe. It was simply choking. If the boy happenedto roll down, those below stood ready to meet him with the rods. 

All this is true. At the same time, was it mere cruelty? It isvery simple: we were a lot of Jewish lads snatched from the arms ofour mothers. On the eve of every Sabbath our mothers would take usin hand, wash us, comb our hair, change our underwear, and dress usin our Sabbath clothes. All at once we were taken into exile. Days, weeks, nay, months, we passed in the dust of the roads, inperspiration and dirt, and sleeping on the ground. Our underwearhad not been changed. No water had touched our bodies. So webecame afflicted with all kinds of eruptions. That is why we had topass through what we called "the chamber of hell. " And this willgive you an idea of the rest. 

To make a long story short: there were many of us, and we weredistributed in various places. Many of the boys had taken ill; manydied on the road. The survivors were distributed among peasants, tobe brought up by them till they reached the age of entering thearmy. I was among the latter. Many months, maybe even years, Ipassed in knocking about from village to village, from town to town, till, at last, I came into the joint possession of a certain PeterSemionovich Khlopov and his wife Anna Petrovna. My master wasneither old nor young; he was neither a plain peasant nor anobleman. He was the clerk of the village. In those days that wasconsidered a genteel occupation, honorable and well-paid. He had nosons, but he and one daughter, Marusya by name. She was then aboutfourteen years old, very good-looking, gay, and rather wild. 

According to the regulations, all the Cantonists in the village hadto report daily for military drill and exercise on the drill groundsbefore the house of the sergeant. He lived in the same village. Atthe request of my patron Khlopov I was excused from the daily drill, and had to report but once a week. You see, Peter expected toderive some benefit from me by employing me about the house and inthe field. 

Now it was surely through the merits of my ancestors that I happenedto be placed in the household of Peter Khlopov. Peter himself spentbut little of his time at home. Most of the time he was at theoffice, and his free moments he liked to spend at the tavern, whichwas owned by the only Jew in the village, "our Moshko" the Klopovsused to call him. But whenever he happened to be at home, Peter wasvery kind to me, especially when he was just a little tipsy. Perhaps he dreamt of adopting me as his son: he had no sons of hisown. And he tried to make me like military service. "When you growup, " he sued to say, "you will become an officer, and wear a sword. Soldiers will stand at attention before you, and salute you. Youwill win distinction in battle, and be found worthy of beingpresented to the Czar. " He also told me stories of Russian militarylife. By that time I had learned some Russian. They were reallynice stories, as far as I could understand them; but they were madenicer yet by what I could not understand of them. For then I wasfree to add something to the stories myself, or change themaccording to my own fancy. If you are a lover of stories, take theadvice of a plain old man like myself. Never pay any attention tostories in which everything has been prepared from the very start, and you can tell the end as soon as you begin to read them or listento them. Such stories make one yawn and fall asleep. Stories ofthis kind my daughter reads to me once in a while, and I always fallasleep over them. Stories are good only when told the way Khlopovused to tell them to me. 

But that is all irrelevant. In short, Khlopov was kind to me. 

As to Anna, she was entirely different. She was close-mouthed, ill-tempered, and a great stay-at-home. She never visited herneighbors, and they, in turn, called on her very rarely. In thevillage she was spoken of as a snob and a hypocrite. Peter wasafraid of her as of the plague, especially in his sober hours. Allher power lay in her eyes. When that strong man--he who had thewhole village in the palm of his hand--felt her eye fixed on him, his strength left him. It seemed as if some devil were ready tojump out of that eye and turn the house topsyturvy. You fellows aremere youngsters, you have seen nothing of the world yet; but take itfrom me, there are eyes that seem quite harmless when you first lookinto them, but just try to arouse their temper: you will see ahellish fire spring up in them. Have you ever looked into myRebekah's eyes? Well, beware of the eyes. 

The look Anna gave me when I first entered her house promised menothing good. She hated me heartily. She never called me by my ownname. She called me "Zhid" all the time, in a tone of deep hatredand contempt. 

Among the orders the Cantonists had to obey were the following: tospeak no Yiddish; to say no Jewish prayer; to recite daily a certainprayer before the image of the Virgin and before the crucifix, andnot to abstain from non-kosher food. 

With regard to all injunctions except the last, Anna was very strictwith me. But she was not very particular as to the last injunction. Out of sheer stinginess she fed me on bread and vegetables, andthat in the kitchen. Once she did offer me some meat, and I refusedto touch it. Then she got very angry, flew into a temper, anddecided to complain to the sergeant. But Peter did not let her beso cruel. "Let him grow up, he will know better, " said Peter, waving his hand at me. 

Then Anna made up her mind to force me to eat forbidden meat. But Iwas obstinate. And she decided once more to complain to thesergeant. Just at that time another Cantonist had been found guiltyof some offense. He belonged to the same village; his name wasJacob. I did not know him at that time. His patron complained thatJacob had persisted in reciting Hebrew prayers, and that heabstained from meat. Jacob was condemned to twenty lashes withrods. An order was issued that all Cantonists should assemble towitness the flogging of the offender. 

In the course of time we got used to such sights; but the first timewe were terribly shocked. Just imagine: a lad of about fifteen isstripped, put on the ground face downwards; one man sits on hishead, and another on his feet. Two men are put on either side ofhim, each with a bundle of birch-rods in his hand. Ten times eachof them has to strike him with the rods, to make up the twentylashes. I looked at the face of the culprit; it was as white aschalk. His lips were moving. I thought he was reciting the prayer:"And He, the Merciful, will forgive sin, and will not destroy. . . . " Up went the rods, down they went: a piercing cry . . . . Blood . . . . Flaps of loose skin . . . . Cries . . . . "one, two, three" . . . . Again cries . . . . Sudden silence . . . . More cries. . . . Again silence . . . . "four, five" . . . . "stop!"

Because the culprit fainted, the sergeant in the goodness of hisheart divided the punishment into two parts. Jacob was carried offto the hospital, and it was put down in the book that he was to getten more lashes after his recover. 

I went home. 

Had Anna given me a piece of pork to eat that evening, I do not knowwhat I should have done. 

That night I saw the old rabbi in my dream. He was standing beforeme, with bowed head and tears dropping from his eyes. . . . . 

I do not remember the way Marusya treated me at first. But I doremember the look she gave me when I first entered her father'shouse. There are trifling matters that one remembers forever. Herswas a telltale look, wild and merry. It is hard to describe it inwords--as if she wanted to say, "Welcome, friend! You did well incoming here. I need just you to pass my leisure hours with me!"And she really needed someone like myself, for she never associatedwith the children of the village. The beautiful lively girl used tohave her fits of the blues. Then it was impossible to look at herface without pitying her. At such times her mother could not get aword out of her, and the whole expression of her face was changed tosuch an extent that she seemed to have aged suddenly. She wouldlook the very image of her mother then. And a peculiar expressionwould steal over her face, which estranged her from other people, and perhaps brought her nearer to me. During those fits ofdespondency she was sure to follow me if I happened to leave theroom and go outside. She would join me and spend hour after hour inchildish prattle with me, and her merriment and wildness knew nolimits. Little by little I got used to her, and fell, in turn, alonging for her company during my own fits of lonesomeness. 

The day after I had witnessed Jacob's punishment I felt miserable. I was restless and excitable, and did not know what to do withmyself. I thought my heart would burst within me. I asked myselfall kinds of questions: What am I doing here? What did I come herefor? What are all those people to me? As if I had come there onlythe day before, and of my own free will. . . . 

Marusya looked sharply at me. Very likely she recognized thatsomething was worrying me. I felt a desire to share my feelingswith her. I got up and walked out into the garden behind the house. In a moment she followed me. I made a clean breast of it, and toldher all I had to witness the day before. 

She listened, shivering, and asked in a tremulous voice:

"And what did they beat him for?"

"He said a Hebrew prayer, and refused to eat meat. "

"And why did he refuse to eat meat?"

"It is forbidden. "

"Forbidden? Why?"

I was silent. 

She also became silent; then she laid her hand on me, and said withher usual merriment:

"They will not beat you. "

"How do you know?"

"The sergeant is a good friend of ours. "

"But if your mother should complain about me?"

"Then I shall go in your stead, if they should decide to switchyou. "

She laughed heartily at her own suggestion. Her laughter made melaugh too; we both laughed, and laughed without knowing why. And ina mood completely changed I returned to the house. After that Ifelt very near to the girl. 

Well, time passed, months and years: I lost track of them. But I doremember that the time had come when I knew enough Russian to makemyself understood, and fit for any kind of work about the house andin the field, and could give my patron entire satisfaction. 

One day, I remember, I tried very hard to have my work well andpromptly done, so as to earn, for once, the good-will of Annaherself. I felt a longing for the friendly smile of a mother. ButAnna kept going in and out, and did not pay the least attention tome. I was sitting on the bench outside the house alone. My dog waslying at my feet, looking at me very intently. His eyes seemed tobe full of tears. And let me tell you by the way, his lot in thehouse was entirely different from mine. When he first enteredPeter's courtyard, the dogs met him with howls. He tried to findshelter in the kitchen, but was chased out with sticks. "Where didthat tramp come from?" wondered the people. Then my Barker saw thathe could expect no charity from the people, and he put his trust inhis own teeth. He stood up bravely, and fought all the dogs of thehousehold till blood flowed. Then only did the masters of the houseappreciate his doggish virtues and accomplishments. They befriendedhim, and allowed him his rations. So my Barker saved his skin. Yethis lot did not seem to please him. He recognized, by some peculiardog-sense, that I, his fellow in exile, was unhappy myself and sorryfor him too. He felt that somehow his own days of prosperity wouldnot last long. Whenever I sat about lonely and moping, he wouldstretch himself at my feet, and look straight into my eyes, with anexpression of earnestness and wonderment, as if he wanted to ask me, How is that, why don't you fight for your rights the way I did?

Presently Anna came out, shot a glance at me, and said:

"Well, now, there is the lazy Zhid sitting idle, and I have to workand prepare meals for him, so that he may find everything ready!" Igot up, and began to look around for something to do. 

"Go, catch the little pig and bring it over here, " ordered Anna. 

The day before I had overheard her say that it was time to kill thelittle pig. I did not relish the job by any means. I felt sorryfor the porkling: mere pig though it was, it had after all grown upin our house. And it was hard on me to have a hand in the affair. But one angry word of Anna's set me a-going. In a moment my handwas on the animal, which trusted me and believed in me implicitly. Then Anna handed me a rope to bind it. I did as she wanted; the pigstarted to squeal and squeak horribly. To me it sounded like "Zhid, Zhid, is that the way to treat _me?"_

Then Anna handed me a knife, and showed me where to make the cut. . . . The pig began to bleed fearfully, gurgling, and choking withhis own blood. Forthwith Anna ordered wood to be brought, a fire tobe kindled, and the pig to be put upon it. I did all as I had beenordered. My dog was watching me intently, greatly bewildered; thepig groaned and groaned; the flames licked his body and embracedit--and my dog was barking and yelping away up into the sky. 

That night I dreamt that my brother the Shohet and I were on trialin Heaven before the seat of judgment, with various animalscomplaining against us. Only clean fowl, such as geese, pigeons, and the like were complaining against my brother, and they allpleaded in clear, good Hebrew, saying, "Was it for your ownconsumption that you killed us all?" . . . . But it was only thepig that complained against me, and it pleaded in screeches andgrunts that nobody could understand. . . . 

The next morning Anna got up early, and made me stand before theikon of the Virgin and recite a certain prayer. At dinner sheseated me alongside of Peter, gave me some roast pork, and lookedsharply at me. I guess, while making all those preparations, Annahad only one thing in mind: to put Peter up against me while he wasdrunk. I took fright, and began to chew away at the pork. But thenthe screeches and the grunts of the pig rang in my ears, and Ithought they came right from within my insides; I wondered how theycould listen to all that, and yet eat the pork in perfect comfort. Suddenly a lump in my throat began to choke me. . . . Nausea, retching . . . . And something happened to me: I vomited everythingout, right on the table. Everybody jumped away from the table indisgust and anger. I met Marusya's eye, and was ashamed to lookinto it. Anna got up, boiling with rage, and took me by the ear, and pulled me outside: "Get out of here, you dirty Zhid; and don'tyou dare enter my house any more!"

Well, she chased me out. Peter and Marusya kept quiet. Thoroughlymiserable, I dropped down on the bench behind the house; my dogstretched himself out on the ground at my feet and looked into myeyes. Then I began to talk to my fellow in misfortune: "Do youhear, doggie, we have been chased out. . . . What does that mean?did we come here of our own free will? It is by force that we werebrought here; so what sense is there in chasing us out?"

And I thought my dog understood me; a sound came from the depths ofhis throat, and died away there. Then a thought began to haunt me:Maybe it is really time to run away. If they run after me andovertake me, I shall simply say that my patron chased me out of hishouse. And the thought, Home! to your parents! took possession ofme, and tortured me ceaselessly. Said I to myself: "If they chaseme out, I am certainly free!" But then, just see the power of thebirch-rod: I knew well that much time would pass before my patronwould notice my absence; and before the sergeant was informed, andpeople were dispatched to pursue me, more time would pass. Then Ishould be far away from the place. By that time I was quitehardened; I was not afraid to hide in the woods; devils and evilspirits I did not fear any more. I had learned well enough that nodevil will ever trouble a man as much as one human being can troubleanother. And yet, when I remembered the swish of the rods over thenaked flesh, the spurting blood, the loose flaps of skin, and thefutile outcries, I was paralyzed with fear. No, it was not reallyfear: it was a sort of submissive adoration. Had a birch-rod beenlying near me, I should have kissed it with fear and respect. It ishard for me to explain to you. You youngsters are not capable ofunderstanding. 

And as I was sitting there, full of gloomy thoughts, I did notnotice that the sun had set, and night had come. It got so darkthat I could not see my dog lying at my feet. Suddenly I feltsomething touch me and pass lightly over my hair. I thought it wasan ant or a night moth, and I raised my hand to chase it away. Thenit changed its place, and I felt it at the nape of my neck. I triedto catch the thing that was making my neck itch, and caught a hand, soft and warm. I shuddered and started back: before me was Marusya, bending over me. I wanted to get up, but she put her hands on meheavily, sat down at my side, all the while pressing my hand betweenhers. 

"Why are you sitting here?" she asked. 

"Didn't your mother chase me out?"

"That is nothing. Don't you know her temper? That is her way. "

"She keeps nagging at me all the time, and calls me nothing butZhid, Zhid. "

"And what of it? Aren't you a Jew? Should I feel insulted if someone were to call me Christian?!"

I had nothing to say. And it dawned upon me at that moment that Iwas really insulting myself by objecting to being called Zhid. True, Anna meant to jeer at me and insult me; but did it depend onher alone?

"And what are you going to do now?" asked Marusya. 

"I want to run away. "

"Without telling me?"

She peered into my face, and I felt as if two streams of warmth hademptied themselves into me. My eyes had become somewhat accustomedto the darkness, and I could discern every movement of her body. Adelicate smile was playing around her mouth, and my feeling ofdespondency was giving way before it. I felt that after all I had afriend in the house, a good, loving, and beautiful friend. 

I shuddered and broke out into tears. Then she began to playcaressingly with my hair and pat me on my neck and face. She didwell to let me have my cry out. By and by I felt relieved. Shewanted to withdraw her hand, but then I held it fast. 

"So you were going to run away, and that without my knowledge?" saidshe. 

"No, " I said with a deep sigh. 

"And if I should ever call you Zhid, will you be angry with me?"

"No, " answered I, thoroughly vanquished. 

"Well, then you are a dear boy, and I like you!"

I felt the touch of soft, warm lips on my neck . . . . I closed myeyes, that the dark night sky and the shining stars might not seeme. And when I recognized what had happened to me, I felt ashamed. Marusya disappeared, and soon returned with a bag in her hand. 

"Papa said you should go out with the horses for the night. Here issome food in the bag. Take it and go out. "

This she shot out quickly, and in a tone of authority, as befits thedaughter of the patron, and as if what had passed between us werenothing but a dream. 

"Going out for the night" was a peculiar custom. You can have noidea of what it meant. The logic of it was this: The cattle thathad been worked the whole of the day were, to be sure, earning theirfodder for the day. And the owners felt under obligation andnecessity to feed them during their working hours. But how aboutthe night, when the animals rested, and did no work? Where shouldthe fodder for the night time come from? So the custom developed ofletting the animals browse in some neighbor's meadow during thenight. That was cheaper. But that neighbor also had cattle; he, too, had horses that did not earn their feed during the night. Doyou know what the neighbor did? He did the same. He, too, sent outhis horses stealthily, into his neighbor's meadow. So, in the longrun, every one had his cattle browse secretly in some neighbor'smeadow, and all were happy. But when the trespassing shepherdhappened to be caught poaching, he got a whipping. And yet, strictly speaking, it was not stealing; it was a mere usage. Theland-owners seemed to have agreed beforehand: "If you happen tocatch my shepherd poaching, you may whip him, provided you do notobject if I give a whipping to your shepherd on a similar occasion. " In spite of all this I rather liked "going out for the night. " Iloved those nights in the open field. When the moon gave but littlelight, and one could see but a few steps away, I forgot my immediatesurroundings, and my imagination was free! I would peer into theopen sky, would bring before my mind's eye father and mother and allwho were dear to me, and would feel near to them; for the sky thatspread over all of us was the very same. I could imagine my fathercelebrating the new moon with a prayer. I could imagine my motherwatching for the same star I was looking at; I could imagine that wewere really looking at the same spot. . . . Then tears would comeinto my eyes. My mother, I would think, was crying, too. And thenight listened to me, and the stars listened to me. . . . Thecrickets chirped, and if I chose, I could believe they shared mysorrows with me, and were sighing over my fate. . . . 

Idle fancy, nonsense, you think; but when one has nothing real tolook up to, dreams are very sweet. A light breeze would steal overme, refresh me, and bring me new hope; and I trusted I should not bea prisoner always, the day of my release would surely come. At suchhappy moments I would fall asleep gazing at the stars. And if thesudden whip of the landowner did not put an end to my dreams, Iwould dream away, and see things no language could describe. 

Well, I took the bag and led the horses out into the open field. But that time, out of sheer spite or for some other reason, I didnot go into our neighbor's field, but descended right into thevalley that my patron had left lying fallow, and stretched myselfupon the soft grass of the hospitable turf. 

That night I longed to bring father and mother before my mind's eyeand have an imaginary talk with them. But I did not succeed. Instead, the figure of the old rabbi hovered before my eyes. Itseemed to me that he was looking at me angrily, and telling me thestory of Joseph the righteous: how he lived in the house ofPotiphar, and ate nothing but vegetables. 

But when I reminded myself of Joseph the righteous, I felt my heartsink at the thought of what Marusya had done to me. I could notdeny that the good looks of the Gentile girl were endearing her tome, that out of her hands I would eat pork ten times a day, and thatin fact I myself was trying to put up a defense of her. I took allthe responsibility on myself. I was ready to believe that she didnot seek my company, but that it was I who called her to myself. Iwas a sinner in my own estimation, and I could not even cry. Thenit seemed to me that the sky was much darker than usual, and thestars did not shine at all. With such thought in my mind I fellasleep. 

I awoke at the sound of voices. Some one is crying, I thought. Thesound seemed near enough. It rose and rose and filled the valley. It made me shudder. The soft, plaintive chant swelled and grewlouder, as if addressed to me. It gripped my very heart. I stoodup all in a shiver, and started to walk in the direction of thesound. But around me, up and down, on every side, was totaldarkness. The moon had set long ago. I moved away only a few stepsfrom the horses, and could not make them out any more. By and by Icould distinguish some words, and I recognized the heart-grippingchant of a Hebrew Psalm. . . . 

 "For the Lord knoweth the path of the righteous, And the path of the wicked shall perish. " . . . 

My fears vanished, and gave place to a feeling of surprise. 

"Where can that chanting come from, " thought I, "and here in exile, too?"

Then I began to doubt it all, thinking it was but a dream. 

 "Why do the nations rage, And the peoples imagine a vain thing?"

The voices were drawing me forward irresistibly, and I decided tojoin the chorus, come what might. And I continued the Psalm in aloud voice:

 "The kings of the earth stood up . . . . "

The chanting ceased; I heard steps approaching me. 

"Who is there?" asked a voice in Yiddish. 

"It is I, " answered I, "and who are you?"

"It is we!" shouted many voices in chorus. 

"Cantonists?"

"A Cantonist, too?"

Thus exchanging questions, we met. They turned out to be threeCantonists, who lived in a village at some distance from Peter'shouse. I had never met them before. They, too, had "gone out forthe night, " and we had happened to use the same valley. 

I love to mention their names. The oldest of them was Jacob, whomyou remember from the punishment he underwent. The others wereSimeon and Reuben. But there in the valley they introducedthemselves to me with the names they were called by at home: Yekil, Shimele, and Ruvek. I found out later that the valley was theirmeeting-place. It was a sort of Klaus, "Rabbi Yekil's Klaus" theboys called it. Yekil was a boy of about fifteen, who waswell-equipped with knowledge of the Torah when he was taken awayfrom his home. 

In the long years of our exile we had forgotten the Jewish calendarcompletely. But Yekil prided himself on being able to distinguishthe days "by their color and smell, " especially Fridays; and hisfriends confirmed his statements. He used to boast that he couldkeep track of every day of the year, and never miss a single day ofthe Jewish holidays. Every Jewish holiday they met in the valley onPeter's estate. According to Yekil's calendar, the eve of the Fastof the Ninth of Av fell on that very day. That is why they hadgathered in the valley that night. "If so, " said I, "what is theuse of reciting that Psalm? Were it not more proper to reciteLamentations?"

"We do not know Lamentations by heart, " explained Yekil, with theauthority of a rabbi, "but we do know some Psalms, and these werecite on every holiday. For, at bottom, are mere words the mainthing? Your real prayer is not what you say with your lips, butwhat you feel with the whole of your heart. As long as the wordsare in the holy tongue, it all depends on the feelings you wish toput into them. As my father, may he rest in peace, used to instructme, the second Psalm is the same as the festival hymn, 'Thou hastchosen us from among the nations, ' if you feel that way; or it maybe the same as Lamentations. It all depends on the feelings in ourheart, and on the meaning we wish to put into the words!"

Yekil's talk and the sounds of Yiddish speech, which I had not heardsince I left home, impressed me in a wonderful way. Here I foundmyself all at once in the company of Jews like father and mother. But I felt very much below that wonderful boy who could decidequestions of Jewish law like some great rabbi. Indeed, he seemed tome little short of a rabbi in our small congregation. Then I beganto feel more despondent than ever. I considered myself the sinnerof our little community. I knew I was guilty of eating pork and ofother grave trespasses, and I felt quite unworthy of being a memberof the pious congregation. 

Meanwhile little Reuben discovered the contents of my bag. 

"Boys, grub!" exclaimed he, excitedly. At the word "grub" thecongregation was thrown into a flutter. That was the way of theCantonists. They could not help getting excited at the sight of anyarticle of food, even when they were not hungry at all. In the longrun our patrons fed us well enough, and on the whole we could notcomplain of lack of food. But we were fed according to thecalculations of our patrons, and not according to our own appetites. So it became our habit to eat whenever victuals were put before us, even on a full stomach. "Eat whenever you have something to eat, soas not to go hungry when there may be no rations. " That was astanding rule among the Cantonists. They began fumbling in my bag, and I was dying with shame at the thought that soon they woulddiscover the piece of pork, and that my sin would become known tothe pious congregation. Then I broke down, and with tears began toconfess my sins. 

"I have sinned, " said I, sobbing, "it is pork. I could notwithstand the temptation. "

At that moment it seemed to me that Yekil was the judge, and theboys who had found the pork were the witnesses against me. Yekillistened to my partial confession, and the two "witnesses" hungtheir heads, and hid their faces in shame, as if they were theaccused. But I sobbed and cried bitterly. 

"Now, listen, little one, " Yekil turned to me. "I do not knowwhether you have suffered the horrors of hell that we have suffered. Did they paint your body with tar, and put you up on the highestshelf in the steam-bath, and choke you with burning steam? Did theyflog you with birch-rods for having been caught mumbling a Hebrewprayer? Did they make you kneel for hours on sharp stones forhaving refused to kiss the ikon and the crucifix? Did they discoveryou secretly kissing the Arba-Kanfos, and give you as many lashes asthere are treads in the Tzitzis? If you have not passed through allthat, uncover our backs, and count the welts that still mark them!And to this you must add the number of blows I have still to get, simply because my little body could not take in at once all it wasexpected to take in. And yet, not a day passed without our havingrecited our Modeh-Ani. As to eating pork, we abstained from it inspite of the rods. Then they gave up flogging us; but, instead ofthat punishment, they gave us nothing but pork to eat. Two days weheld out; we did not touch any food. We did not get even a drink ofwater. Do you see little Simeon? Well, he tried to eat the grassin the courtyard. . . . On the third day of our fast I saw myfather in my dream. He was dressed in his holiday clothes, andholding the Bible in his hands he quoted the passage, 'Be ye mindfulof your lives. ' Suddenly, the earth burst open, and the Angel ofDeath appeared. He had rods in one hand and a piece of swine'sflesh in the other. He put the piece of pork into my mouth. Ilooked up, terror-stricken, to my father, but he smiled. His smilefilled the place with light. He said to me, 'Eatest thou this ofthy own free will?' Then he began to soar upwards, and called outto me from afar: 'Tell all thy comrades, the Cantonists: Yourreward is great. Every sigh of yours is a prayer, every goodthought of yours is a good action! Only beware, lest you die ofhunger; then surely you will merit eternal punishment!'

"I awoke. Since then we eat all kinds of forbidden food. The mainthing is that we have remained Jews, and that as Jews we shallreturn home to our parents. It is clear to me now that the HolyOne, blessed by He, will not consider all that a sin on our part!"

I felt as if a heavy load had been taken off my shoulders. My eyesbegan to flow with tears of gladness. Then, having once started myconfession, I decided to confess to my second sin also. MeanwhileSimeon had pulled the bread and the meat out of my bag. 

"Glutton!" exclaimed Yekil, angrily. "Have you forgotten that it isthe night of the Fast of the Ninth of Av?"

The boy, ashamed, returned the things to the bag, and moved away afew steps. Then I told Yekil all that had passed between me andMarusya, and tried unconsciously to defend her in every way. Ithink I exaggerated a good deal when I tried to show that Marusyaliked the Jews very much, indeed. 

"And what was the end of it?" asked Yekil, with some fear. "Did shereally kiss you?" The other boys echoed the question. I lookeddown, and said nothing. 

"Is she good-looking?"

I still gave no answer. 

"I have forgotten your name. What is it?"

"Samuel. "

"Now listen, Samuel, this is a very serious affair. It is muchworse than what is told of Joseph the righteous. Do you understand? I do not really know how to make it clear to you. It is verydangerous to find good and true friends right here in exile, in thevery ranks of our enemies. "

"Why?" wondered I. 

"I cannot tell you, but this is how I feel. Insulted and outragedwe have been brought here; insulted and outraged we should departfrom here. Ours is the right of the oppressed; and that right wemust cherish till we return home. "

"I do not understand!"

Jacob looked at me sharply, and said: "Well, I have warned you; keepaway from her. "

His words entered into the depths of my heart. I bowed my headbefore Yekil, and submitted to his authority. That was the way weall felt: Yekil had only to look at us to subject us to his will. It was hard to resist him. 

I felt a great change in myself: I had been relieved of the weightof two sins. Of one I had been absolved completely, and the other Ihad confessed in public and repented of. I gladly joined the littlecongregation, and we returned to our Psalms, which we recitedinstead of Lamentations. At the conclusion I proposed that we chantthe Psalm "By the rivers of Babylon, " which we all knew by heart. 

And we, a congregation of four little Jews, stood up in the valleyon the estate of Peter Khlopov, concealed by steep hills and by thedarkness of the night: thieves for the benefit of our masters, andmourners of Zion on our own account. . . . And we chanted out ofthe depths of our hearts:

"By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept, remembering Zion. ". . . 

We chanted the whole of it, sat down and wept, remembering at thesame time all we had gone through ourselves, and also the positionwe were in at that time. --

Here old Samuel shuddered and stopped abruptly. The sun had set, and he reminded himself that he had forgotten to say his afternoonprayer. He jumped down hastily, washed his hands in a near-by pool, returned to his seat, and became absorbed in his devotion. 

VI

By and by the streaks of light disappeared in the twilight sky, andthe wintry night threw the mantle of thick and misty blackness overus. 

Presently I heard the old man conclude his prayer: "When the worldwill be reclaimed through the kingship of the Almighty; when allmortals will acknowledge Thy name. . . . On that day the Lord willbe One, and His name will be One!"

Out of the darkness came the devout words; they seemed to take wing, as though to pierce the shrouding mist and scatter it; but theythemselves were finally dissolved in the triumph and blackness. . . . 

I did not have to urge the old man to continue his tale. Hisprayers over, he picked up the thread of his narrative, as ifsomething were driving him to give a full account of what he hadpassed through. --

The day I became acquainted with Jacob--continued the old man--Iconsider the beginning of a new period in my life. I becameaccustomed to consider him my superior, whose behavior had to betaken as an example. Jacob spoke as an authority whenever he didspeak, and he never wavered in his decisions. Whenever he happenedto be in doubt, his father would "instruct" him in his dreams. Thuswe lived according to Jacob's decisions and dreams. I got used toeating forbidden food, to breaking the Sabbath, and trespassingagainst all the ordinances of the ritual without compunction. Andyet Jacob used to preach to us, to bear floggings and all kinds ofpunishments rather than turn traitor to our faith. So I got thenotion that our faith is neither prayers, nor a collection ofordinances of varying importance, but something I could not name, nor point to with my finger. Jacob, I thought, certainly knows allabout it; but I do not. All I could was to _feel_ it; so couldAnna. Otherwise she would not have called me Zhid, and would nothave hated me so much, in spite of seeing me break all theordinances of the Jewish ritual. 

At times I thought that I and my comrades were captains in God'sarmy, that all His ordinances were not meant for us, but for theplain soldiers of the line. They, the rank and file, must besubjected to discipline, must know how to submit to authority; allof which does not apply to the commanding officers. It seemed to methat this was what the Holy One, blessed be He, had deigned toreveal to us through the dreams of Jacob: there is another religionfor you, the elect. _You_ will surely know what is forbidden, andwhat is permitted. . . . 

Sometimes, again, I imagined that I might best prove true to myfaith if I set my heart against the temptation that Satan had putbefore me in the person of Marusya. If I turned away from her, Ithought, I might at once gain my share in the future world. So Iarmed myself against Marusya's influence in every possible way. Ifirmly resolved to throw back at her any food she might offer me. If she laid her hand on me, I would push it away from me, and tellher plainly that I was a Jew, and she--a nobody. 

So I fought with her shadow, and, indeed, got the best of it as longas she herself was away. But the moment she appeared, all myweapons became useless. She made me feel like one drunk. I couldnot withstand the wild-fire of her eye, nor the charm of her merrytalk, nor the wonderful attraction of her whole person. At the sametime there was not a trace of deviltry about her: it was simply anattraction which I could not resist. And when she laid her softhand on me, I bent under it, and gave myself up entirely. And shedid what she wanted: where buttons were missing, she sewed them on;and where a patch was needed, she put it in. She was a littlemother to me. She used to bring me all kinds of delicacies andorder me to eat them; and I could not disobey her. In short, shemade me forget Jacob and his teachings. But the moment I met JacobI forgot Marusya's charms, and reminded myself that it was sinful toaccept favors in exile. Then I would repent of my past actions fromthe very depths of my heart--till I again was face to face withMarusya. I was between the hammer and the anvil. 

My meetings with Jacob were regular and frequent. After whataccording to Jacob's calendar was the Ninth of Av, we met nightly inthe valley on Peter's estate, till a disagreement broke out amongus. I would not permit the cattle of the whole neighborhood tobrowse on the estate of my patron, and Simeon and Reuben would notagree to let my patron's horses be brought to the meadows of theirpatrons. Our congregation nearly broke up. But here Jacobintervened with his expert decision. 

"Boys, " said he, "you must know that 'going out for the night' isreally a form of stealing. True, we do not steal for our ownbenefit. Yet, as long as we have a hand in it, we must manage it ina fair way. So let us figure out how many horses every one of ourpatrons possesses. And let us arrange the nights according to thenumber of horses each of the patrons has. According to thiscalculation we shall change places. We shall spend more nights inthe meadows of those who have more horses. That will make 'fairstealing. '"

The plan of Jacob was accepted, not as a proposition, but as anorder. Since that time we began to "steal with justice. " And ourpatrons slept peacefully, delighted with their unpunished thievery, till a Gentile boy, one Serge Ivanovich, joined us on one of his own"nights. " He was the son of the village elder, and a cousin ofPeter Khlopov. He was compelled to obey Jacob, but the next morninghe blabbed about it all over the village. 

Of course, our patrons were angry. Jacob took the whole blame onhimself, and suffered punishment for all of us. Then "Jacob'sKlaus" was closed, because our patrons gave up sending us out "forthe night. "

Well, if you please, their dissatisfaction was not entirelygroundless: they found themselves fooled by us, and cheated in away. For every one of them had been thinking that his horse wouldbring him some profit every night, equal to the value of the horse'sbrowsing. Seven nights, seven times that profit; thirty nights, thirty times that profit. . . . All at once these "profits" hadvanished: it turned out that every horse had been browsing at theexpense of his own master; so the expected profits became a totalloss. Of course, stealing is stealing. But then, they argued, hadthe Zhid youngsters any right to meddle with their affairs? Was ittheir property that was being stolen? As one of my Gentileacquaintances told me once: "The trouble with the Jews is that theyare always pushing themselves in where they are not wanted at all. "

Indeed, it was this fault of ours that Serge kept pointing out to meand berating us for. Well, Jacob's Klaus had been closed. But wemanaged to get together in different places. Once in a while wecame to see one another at our patron's houses, and they did notobject. 

I do not know who told Marusya what kind of a chap Jacob was, andwhat he thought of her; but she hated him from the moment she firstsaw him, when he came to visit me. 

"He is a real savage, " she would say. "I never saw such a Jew. Iam simply afraid of him. I am afraid of those wild eyes of his. Idetest him, anyway. " That is what she used to tell me. 

Whenever Jacob came to see me, and Marusya happened to be in theroom, she would walk out immediately, and would not return before hewas out of the house. I rather liked it. I could not be giving into both of them at the same time. 

Such were the surroundings that shaped my life during those days. Peter befriended me; but Anna kept on worrying me and making memiserable. Marusya loved me as a sister loves a brother, and thefire of her eyes ate into my heart. Jacob kept preaching to me thatit was wrong to accept favors from Gentiles, and that we had tofight for our faith. Serge became my bitter enemy from the time hebetrayed our scheme of "honest stealing. "

To top it all, my sergeant tried to put me through the paces of themilitary drill, and succeeded. 

But my own self seemed to have been totally forgotten and left outof the account. 

By and by the summer passed, and most of the following winter; andin the Khlopov household preparations were made for some holiday, Iforget which. Those days of preparation were our most miserabledays in exile. When Anna was busy on the eve of a holiday, I couldnot help remembering our own Sabbath eves at home, the Sabbath daysin the Klaus, as well as the other holidays, and all the things thatare so dear to the heart of the Jewish boy. That was the time whenI felt especially lonely and homesick; it was as though a fever wereburning within me. Then neither tears nor even Marusya's companydid me any good. I felt as if red-hot coals had been packed upright here in my breast. Did you ever feel that way? I felt likerolling on the ground and pressing my chest against something hard. I felt I was going mad. I felt like jumping, crying, singing, andfighting all at once. I felt as if even lashes would be welcome, simply to get rid of that horrible heartache. 

On that particular day Khlopov was late in coming home. Marusyaremarked that she had seen her father enter the tavern. Then Annabegan to curse "our Moshko, " the tavern keeper. Marusya objected:

"Tut, tut, mother, is it any of Moshko's fault? Does he compel papato go there? Does he compel him to drink?"

Then Anna few into a temper, and poured out a torrent of curses andinsults on Marusya. I don't know what happened to me then. Myblood was up; my fists tightened. It was a dangerous moment; I wasready to pounce upon Anna. I did not know that Marusya had beenwatching me all the while from behind, and understood all that waspassing within me. Presently the door opened, and Khlopov entered, rather tipsy, hopping and jigging. That was his way when in hiscups. When he was under the influence of liquor, his soul seemed tospread beyond its usual limits and light up his face with smiles. At such moments he would be ready to hug, to kiss, or to cry; orelse to curse, to fight, and to laugh at the same time. 

Right here you can see the difference between the Jew and theGentile. The finer soul of the Jew may contract and settle on thevery point of his nose. But the grosser soul of the Gentile needs, as it were, more space to spread over. This, I believe, is whyKhlopov never failed to get a clean shave on the eve of everyholiday. 

As soon as Khlopov had entered the room, he began to play with meand Marusya. He gave us candy, and insisted on dancing a jig withus. 

Anna met him with a frown: "Drunk again?" But this time her eyesseemed to have no power over Khlopov. He could not stand it anylonger, and gave tit for tat. "Zhidovka!" he shouted. I looked atAnna: she turned red. Marusya blushed. Khlopov sobered up, and hissoul shrank to its usual size. Anna went to her room. The spellwas broken. 

The word "Zhidovka" hurled at Anna made me start back. What couldit mean, I wondered. I felt sorry for Khlopov, for Marusya, forAnna, and for the holiday mood that had been spoilt by a singleword. And it seemed to me it was my fault to some extent. Who, Ithought, had anything in common with Zhidovka if not myself? Or wasit Khlopov?--

Here the old man was interrupted by the neighing of the horses. 

The forward horse seemed to be getting proud of the comparativefreedom he enjoyed, and bit his neighbor, only to remind him of it. The latter, unable to turn around in the harness, resented theinsult by kicking. But then the driver plied the whip, and therewas peace again. 

"Would you take the trouble to dismount? Just walk up that hill: itwill do you good to warm yourselves up a little after sitting solong in one place. "

That was the driver's suggestion; and as no one refuses obedience todrivers on the road, we dismounted. 

VII

The next day--resumed the old man--the situation became a littleclearer to me. Marusya told me that according to the gossip of thevillage her mother was a converted Jewess. She, Marusya, was not sosure of it. Her father would call her mother a Jewess once in awhile, but that happened only when he was drunk. So she did notknow whether he merely repeated the village gossip, or had his owninformation in the matter. And when she asked her mother, thelatter would fly into a temper. 

"Papa himself, " said Marusya, "likes Jews; but mother hates them. Ilike papa more than mamma; I also like Jews; I often play withMoshko's girls when mother is not around. I do not understand whymother dislikes Jews so much. "

Then Marusya insisted I should tell her the real truth about theJews, as they are at home: were they like myself, or like Jacob, thewild one? But I stopped listening to her chatter, and began tothink of what she had told me about her mother. For in case it wastrue that Anna was a convert, then--why, then Marusya herself washalf a Jewess. I decided to solve the mystery. 

Now let me tell you that as a result of our Cantonist training wewere not only as bold as eagles, as courageous as lions, as swift asthe deer in doing the will of our patrons, but also as sly as foxesin finding a way out of a difficulty. And, by the way, that wasalso the opinion of our late commander, Colonel Pavel Akimovich. Akeen-eyed commander and a kind-hearted master was he, may his lot bein Paradise among the godly men of the Gentile tribes. Yes, if hewas an eagle, we were his chicks; if he was a lion, we were hiswhelps! This is what he used to say: "In time of need, you have nobetter soldier than the Jew. But then you must know how to use him. Do not give him too many instructions, and do not try to explain itall to him from beginning to end. If you instruct him too much, hewill be afraid to do any scheming on his own hook, and you will bethe loser. Just give him your order, and tell him what the order isfor. Then you may be sure he will get it for you, even if he shouldhave to go to hell for it!" This is what Colonel Pavel Akimovichused to say of us. 

Now, once I decided to find out Anna's secret, I thought it all outbeforehand, as a Cantonist should; and I hit upon a plan. 

That was at the beginning of spring. One day Khlopov left on ajourney to the neighboring villages to collect the taxes. He had tostay away some time. The whole of that day Anna kept worrying me asusual. She sent me on unnecessary errands, she wanted me to be intwo places at the same time. She yelled, she cursed, she shook me, and mauled me, she pulled me by the ears. She knew well how to makeone miserable. When night came, I went to sleep in the anteroom;that was my bedroom. Anna was abed, but not asleep. Marusya hadlong been asleep. Then Anna remembered that she had forgotten toclose the door leading to the anteroom, and she ordered me to get upand close it. I made believe I was sleeping soundly, and began tosnore loudly. She kept on calling me, but I kept on snoring. Suddenly I began to cry, as if from the sleep: "O mother, leaveAnna alone. She too is a mother! Pity her family!"

Anna became silent. I half opened my eyes and looked at her throughthe open door. A candle was burning on the table near her bed, andI could see that she was frightened, and was listening intently. Then I continued, somewhat differently: "I beg of you, mother, isit her fault? Doesn't she feed me? Isn't she a mother too?"

Then I began to cry as if in my sleep. "What?" I asked suddenly, "Anna?! Anna--a Jewess too?!"

Then I noticed that Anna was watching Marusya's bed. I saw she wasafraid Marusya might overhear what was not intended for her ears. She put on her night robe, came to my bed, and began in a whisper:"Are you sleeping? Get up, my boy, wake up!"

I did "wake up, " and put on a frightened appearance. "What did youcry about?" she asked. "I dreamt something terrible. " "What didyou dream about" I kept silent. "Tell me, tell me!" she insisted. "I saw my mother in a dream. " "Is she alive yet?" I told a lie. Isaid my mother was long dead. "And what did she tell you?" "Shesaid that . . . . " "Tell me, tell me!" "I cannot repeat that inRussian. " "Then say it in Yiddish. " I looked with make-believesurprise at Anna. "She said: 'I shall come to Anna at night andchoke her, if she doesn't give up abusing you. '" At this Annaturned red. I continued: "And she said also, 'Anna ought to havepity on Jewish children, because she is a Jewess herself. '" . . . . 

My scheme worked well. Anna began to treat me in an entirelydifferent way, and my position in the house not only improved, butbecame the opposite of what it had been. At times, when no one wasaround, she even spoke Yiddish to me. Apparently she liked toremain alone in the house with me and chat with me. You must know, her position in the village was all but agreeable. She had very fewacquaintances; and she would have been better off without any. Whenshe happened to have visitors, a mutual suspicion at once becameapparent, in their behavior and their talk. There was much moreflattery, much more sweetness of speech than is common among people. One could see that each spoke only to hide her innermost thoughts. Every conversation ended as it began: with gossip about women whowere not zealous enough in matters of church attendance. And whenit came to that, Anna invariably blushed, simply because she wasafraid she might blush. Then, feeling the blood coming to her face, she would try to hide her confusion, and would chatter awayceaselessly, to show how punctual she was herself in church matters. On taking leave, Anna's friends would exchange significant glances, and Anna would have been either too stupid or else too wise not tonotice the sting of those sly looks. 

As to Peter, he treated Anna fairly well; and when they happened toquarrel, it was mostly her own fault. One night--it was long afterI had found out Anna's secret--I happened to be sleepless, and Ioverheard Anna talking angrily to Peter. She was scolding him forhaving forgotten to prepare oil for the lamp before the ikon of somesaint. It was that saint's day, and Khlopov had either forgotten orneglected it. He was very careless in church matters, and Annanever got tired of taking him to task for it. This time she didn'tleave off nagging him, till he lost patience, and said: "Were Ireally as religious as you want me to be, I should have taken towife a woman who--well, who is a real Christian herself. " PerhapsPeter never meant to insult Anna by reminding her of that which shewished to forget. Or perhaps Peter thought he had offered a validexcuse. But Anna was offended and turned around crying. 

The trouble with Anna was that she was very sensitive. That was atrait of hers. When she heard something said about herself, shenever was satisfied with the plain meaning of what was said, buttried to give the words every other possible meaning. Every chanceremark she happened to overhear she took to be meant for herself. Well, this same sensitiveness one may find in most of theCantonists. For instance, in the regiment of General Luders, inwhich I served once, we had many Tatars, some Karaites, and a goodlynumber of Jews. To all appearances there was no trouble; but letone soldier call another "Antichrist, " and every Jew in the regimentwould get excited. The Tatars and the Karaites rather liked to calltheir comrades Antichrist, even if they happened to be Christians. But it was only the Jews whom the word set a-shivering. It is as Itell you--the Jew is painfully sensitive. Well, to cut my storyshort, Anna did not have a happy time of it. She was all alone, surrounded though she was by many people. She became taciturn inspite of herself. And this is a great misfortune when it happenswith womenfolk. Women are naturally great talkers, and you may dothem much harm, if you do not give them a chance to talk. So Ibecame her crony as soon as I discovered her secret. Then she triedto make up for the many years of silence by chattering incessantly. In her long talks she often said things she had denied before. Onceshe told me that she felt a longing to see her relations andtownspeople. But the next time she said that she hated themmightily. Very likely she did not hate them. We all dislike thatwhich has caused us pain and harm. So Anna disliked her relationsfor having caused her remorse, homesickness, and perhaps shame. Once her tongue was loosed, she did not stop until she had pouredout the proverbial nine measures given to woman as her share of theten measures of speech in the world. She spoke Yiddish even in thepresence of Marusya and of Jacob, who used to visit me once in awhile. By and by Anna began to treat him in a very friendly way. Only Marusya avoided him, and never spoke a word to him. She simplyhated him. 

Thus in time the house of Anna became something like a Jewishsettlement, or rather like some sort of a Klaus, especially whenPater was away from home. We all used to gather there, and talkYiddish, just as in a Klaus. For under Anna's roof we feltperfectly free. She became a mother to the homeless Cantonists. Even marusya took to jabbering a little Yiddish. Jacob began tofeel that the leadership of our little community was passing intothe hands of Anna, and he became jealous. He did not see that thevery fact that he too was falling under her spell was influencingour community greatly, and that thus he was stamping it with his owncharacter. 

Anna liked him more than she did any one of us. Moreover, sherespected him. At times it looked as if she were somewhat afraid ofhim. 

Now you must know that at bottom Anna had never deserted herreligion. Instead, she carried the burdens of both religions; tothe fear of the Jewish hell she seemed to have added the fear of theChristian hell. I suspect that she was still in the habit ofreciting her Hebrew prayer before going to sleep. She also believedin dreams. In this respect all women are the same. Of course, shehad her dreams, and Jacob thought himself able to interpret them; heused to seek her company for that purpose. 

So we all began to feel very much at home in Anna's house. 

Once it happened that Peter entered the house at a moment when wewere all so much absorbed in our Yiddish conversation that we didnot notice his presence. He sat down quietly among us and took partin our talk, smiling in his usual manner. He asked us somequestions, and we answered him. Then we asked him something, and heanswered us in pure, good Yiddish, as if there were nothing new orsurprising about it. At last Marusya awoke, and exclaimed with gladsurprise: "Papa, can you speak Yiddish too?" We all shuddered, asif caught stealing. Peter's smile broadened, covering the whole ofhis face. 

"Did you imagine that I do not know it? I wish you could speak itas well as I do. "

That made me suspect that Peter might have been himself a convertfrom Judaism, and I decided to ask Anna bout it. She cleared up mydoubts very soon. She told me that Peter had been brought up in anexclusively Jewish town; he had been employed there as a clerk inthe Town Hall. As he always had to deal with jews, he finallylearned their language. She told me at the same time that Peterrather liked Jews, and that he was a man of more than ordinaryability; otherwise, she said, it would have been very foolish on herpart to leave the religion of her father for the sake of Peter. 

"What did you say was the name of your native town?" I asked out ofsheer curiosity. She named my native town. I felt a shiver gothrough me. "And what was your father's name?" I asked again, trembling. 

"Bendet. "

"Was he a wine-dealer?"

"Yes; and how do you know it? Are you of the same town?"

I told her my father's name, and we clasped hands in surprise. --

While the old man was telling his tale, the clouds dispersed. Ilooked upwards: the dark sky spread vaultlike above us studded withstars, some in groups, some far apart. Then I remembered what theLord had promised to our father Abraham: "And I shall multiply thyseed as the stars in heaven. " And I thought I saw in the sky naughtbut so many groups of Jews: some kept in exile, some confined withinthe nebulae of the Milky Way. . . . But even then, it seemed to me, there was a strong attraction, a deep sympathy between them all, farapart and scattered though they were. Even so they formedaggregations of shining stars--far apart, yet near. . . . 

VIII

The wind began to grow cold; we pressed close to one another to keepwarm. The old man drew his old coat tightly about him, andcontinued his story:--

Well, we of our little community threw off the yoke of the oldTorah, yet refused to accept the yoke of the new Torah. Nevertheless our lives were far from being barren. Our longing forthe things we were forbidden to practise prompted us to invent agood many new usages. For instance, long before we had the freedomof Anna's house, we managed to meet every Saturday to exchange a fewwords in Yiddish; two or three words were sufficient to satisfy oursense of duty. Those meetings were among the things for the sake ofwhich we were ready to run any risk of discovery. Of course, wedared not recite our Modeh-Ani: our patrons might have overheard us, and that meant a sure flogging. But we practised repeating theprayer mentally, and we always managed to do it with our facesturned in the direction from which we thought we had come, and whereour native towns were situated. Jacob had a little piece of cloth, a remnant of an Arba-Kanfos. The Tzitzis had long been torn away, to prevent discovery and avoid punishment; but what was left of itwe kept secretly, and we used to kiss it at opportune moments, as ifit were a scroll of the Torah. 

Then we made a point of abstaining from work at least one hour everySaturday and on the days that were the Jewish holidays according toJacob's calendar. On the other hand, work was considered obligatoryon Sundays and on Christian holidays. Tearing up some papers orstarting a fire was thought sufficient. 

These and many other usages we invented, slowly, one after another. In time we got into the habit of observing them very punctiliously, even after we had made ourselves at home in Anna's house. But overand above all Jacob never gave up preaching to me that it was wrongon the part of an oppressed Jew to accept favors from a non-Jew. And this he preached without ever noticing that he was himselfgiving in to temptation when he accepted favors and kindnesses fromAnna. As to Marusya, he always found a pretext to separate uswhenever he met me in her company. I was very angry with him forthat, but I could not tell him so openly. At last it came to such apass that Marusya lost all patience, and made me the scapegoat. Shestopped having anything to do with me. 

Now that was a real misfortune as far as I was concerned. For onlythen did I come to realize how much I was attached to the girl. Ifelt an utter emptiness in my heart; I began to feel myself a totalstranger in the house. When everybody was talking merrily, I keptquiet, as if I were a mourner. I was always looking for Marusya, Iwas always trying to catch her eye. I hoped that our eyes wouldmeet, that she would at least look at me. But she kept on avoidingme. No, she did not avoid me: she simply did not seem to know thatI was in the house. I was exasperated; and when once I came face toface with Jacob, I lost my temper, and berated him roundly, attacking him on his weakest side:

"Is it on me that you are spying? How many favors, if you please, have you accepted yourself from Anna? Perhaps your father gave youa special dispensation in your dreams?"

To all of this Jacob replied very calmly: "First of all, youranalogy does not hold, for you and Marusya are both youngsters. And, second, even supposing I were sinning, it is your fault then, too; for it is clearly your duty to warn me. At the same time, youcan imagine how much the whole thing grieves me. "

Well, after all, I was ready to forgive him his sins, provided heoverlooked mine. . . . . 

Yes, that happened on a Saturday. We were all standing in line onthe drill grounds. I was in the first line, and Jacob was directlybehind me in the second line. We were going through the paces ofthe so-called three-step exercise. It was this way: the soldier hadto stretch his left leg forward on a somewhat oblique line, so thatthe sole of his foot touched the ground without resting on it. Thatwas the first pace, the hardest of all, as we had to stand on oneleg, with the other a dead weight. In this position we had to keepstanding till the command was given for the second pace. At thatmoment we had to shift to our left leg, and quickly bend the rightleg at the knee-joint at a right angle. Thus we had to stand tillthe command was given for the third pace, when we had to unbend theright leg and bring it forward. On that day we were kept at thefirst pace unusually long. My muscles began to twitch, and I feltas if needles were pricking me from under the skin. Suddenly I feltas if I had lost my footing, and was suspended in the air. Then Ifell. This was my first mishap on that day. The sergeant madebelieve that he did not notice it, and I congratulated myself, hoping it would pass unremarked. 

The sergeant was busy with the last of our line: somehow he did notlike the way he was standing. Just then, in a crazy fit ofcontrariness, I felt a sudden desire to fulfil my duty of talking afew words of Yiddish on Saturday. I turned my head and whispered toJacob in Yiddish: "He is going to keep us here the whole day! Whenshall we have our hour's rest?" At that moment the sergeant passedbetween the lines, and overheard me speaking Yiddish. O yes, theyhave sharp ears, those drill-masters. As you know, speaking Yiddishwas considered a great breach of discipline, which never passedunpunished. It always meant a whipping. So I had made myselfguilty of two offenses. On that day I did not go home empty-handed: I got an order to report the next morning to receive my twentylashes. I received my order like a soldier, saluted, and seemedcool about it--for the time being. That pleased the sergeantgreatly; he was a thorough soldier himself, and heartily hatedtenderfeet and cowards. He looked at me approvingly, and said:"Because you have always been a good soldier, I shall make thepunishment easier for you. You have the privilege of dividing thenumber of lashes in two: ten you get to-morrow, and ten you may putoff for some other time. " That was the customary way of making thepunishment easier in the cases when the Cantonist was either tooweak to take in the whole number of lashes at once, or was thoughtto deserve consideration otherwise. A temporary relief it certainlywas; but in the end the relief was worse than the punishment itself. Between the first half of the punishment and the other half, lifewas a burden to the culprit: he could neither eat, nor drink, norsleep in peace. Every moment he felt as if his back were not hisown, that he merely had borrowed it for a while, and sooner or laterhe would have to stretch himself on the ground, to bear the weightof a rider on his neck and of another on his feet, and have the rodsfall on him with a swish: one, two, three. . . . 

And the pain was awful. It felt as if the skin were being torn awayin strips. A new lash on the fresh cut, and another strip was tornout; then another strip across the two. One felt like yelling, butthe throat was dry. One felt like scratching the ground, but thefinger nails had long become soft. One felt like biting one's ownflesh, but one had no power over himself so long as a man wassitting on his neck and pinning it tight to the ground. It was hardenough to stand the ordeal itself, as hard as hell. But it wasstill harder to bear in mind that such a punishment was coming. Itfelt as if one was being flogged every moment. So, in the stress ofthe moment, I found my speech. "Sir, " said I, saluting, "I wouldrather stand twenty-five lashes at once than have the twenty lashesdivided in two parts. "

"Why?" asked the sergeant. 

"Because a Russian soldier has no time to keep accounts that concernonly his own back. He has no right to forget his military dutieseven for a single moment. "

Here the sergeant gave me an approving smile, and reduced the twentylashes to ten. Then Jacob stepped forward, stood at attention, saluted, and said:

"Sir, it is not his fault, but mine. It was I who spoke to him. Hewas silent. As to his falling during the drill, that was also myfault: I made him stumble. I am ready to stand the punishment, because I am the guilty one. "

The sergeant threw a quick, admiring glance at Jacob, and said:

"Your intentions are certainly good, because you wish to sacrificeyourself for your friend. You might serve as a model for all theyoung soldiers. Boys, do you hear? Love one another as Jacob loveshis guilty friend! But you must know that your sergeant is not tobe fooled; his eyes are everywhere, and he certainly knows theguilty one!"

When I went home, I felt neither glad nor despondent; I felt as if Idid not exist at all--as if my very body did not belong to me, buthad been borrowed for a few hours. That night I woke up many times;I felt as if snakes were crawling over my flesh. I got up early thenext morning. Marusya was yet in bed, half awake. 

"Where are you going?" asked Anna, standing in my way. I keptsilent for a while, then I made a clean breast of it all. Annashook her head at me, and said with tears glistening in her eyes:"Poor fellow, and where are you going to?"

"I am going to the sergeant's; if it has been decreed, let it bedone quickly. "

"Why should you go hungry?"

"That does not matter. " I waved my hand, and walked away slowly. One the way I met some people, but I did not greet them; some peopleovertook me, but I did not even notice them pass. I had nothing inmy mind except my own shoulders and the stinging rods. And for amoment I really lost heart; I acted like a tenderfoot instead of aCantonist. I was ready to cry; my tears were choking me, as if Iwere mamma's only darling. It was about a two hours' walk to thesergeant's. When I arrived there, I stood outside and waited forhim. Then I thought I heard the sound of some not unfamiliar voice:arguments, expostulations, again arguments. Somebody was talkingearnestly behind the closed door. I could not make out what wassaid. Neither did I have any desire to know what it was all about. I was very impatient. I longed for the sergeant to come out and dothe thing he had to do to me. I wished for all to be over and donewith--that I had already been carried to the hospital and beenbandaged; that the days in the hospital had gone; that I hadrecovered and had been dismissed. But at the same time I hoped thesergeant might be a little slow in coming out, and that my painmight be postponed for a little while. In short, I was dividedagainst myself: I had two wishes, one excluding the other. Suddenlythe door opened, and on the threshold was standing--do you know who? Marusya! Yes, dear God, it was Marusya. She was standing at theright of the sergeant. With one hand he was playing with her locks, and in the other he was holding both her hands. Then he turned tome:

"Hourvitz, this young lady has interceded in your favor. And asoldier is in honor bound to respect the request of such a nicegirl. So, for her sake, all is forgiven this time. Go home!"

At that moment I was ready to take forty lashes, if only I mightremove the sergeant's hands from off Marusya. I went home at a veryslow pace, so that Marusya might overtake me on the road. I thoughtshe might talk to me then. I meant to ask her how she had gottenahead of me without my noticing her. The minutes seemed hours; Ithought she would never come out of the house. Then a crazy ideastruck me--to return to the sergeant's house and see what hadhappened to Marusya. After all, I thought, what can the sergeant doto me more than have me whipped? At that moment I thought little ofthe rods; it seemed to me just then that the rods did not hurt somuch after all, and the pain they caused was only temporary; it washardly worth while giving the matter much thought. And, I am sure, for the moment I had lost all sense of pain. Had they flogged methen, I should not have felt any pain. I turned back. Luckily Idid not have to go as far as the sergeant's house; I met Marusya onthe way. She passed me, looking right and left, as if I were a merestone lying on the roadside. 

"Marusya!" I called after her. But she kept on walking ahead, as ifshe had not heard me. "Marusya, " I cried again, "is that the wayyou are going to treat me?! Why, then, did you save me from therods?"

She stopped for a moment, as though thinking of something. Herhandkerchief fell from her hand. She sighed deeply, picked up thehandkerchief, and resumed her walk. I returned to the villagealone. Anna met me with tears of joy in her eyes. I broke out intotears myself, without really knowing why. I caught Marusya's eye, but her look was a puzzle to me. --

Presently our horses began to trot at a lively pace; they felt theroad sloping downhill. The driver, who had long been nodding in hisseat, was suddenly shaken out of his slumbers. He woke up with astart, and flourished his whip; which is a habit acquired in histrade. Uphill or downhill, your coach-drive is bound to work withhis whip. Let him be disturbed, no matter when, --even when he dropsinto a doze in his Klaus on a Yom-Kippur night--he will invariablyshake his hand at the intruder as if swinging his whip. 

As the horses increased their speed, the baying of dogs becameaudible; a village was not far off. Cheering and inviting as thedistant chorus sounded, it resolved itself by and by into singlebarks, and every bark seemed to say, "Away with you, " "Stand back, " "No strangers admitted, " and the like. A gust of wind brought toour nostrils warmish air laden with all kinds of smells: smells ofsmouldering dung, of garbage, and of humanity in general. Soonlights began to twinkle from huddled shanties and from broad-facedhouses, as if welcoming our arrival. It looked as if the villagewere priding itself on its lights, and boasting before Heaven: "Seehow much stronger I am: sunk in the deep slush of a dirty valley, Ihave my own lights, and my own stars within myself. "

The village seemed to have shrunk within the limits of its own nest, glad that it need not know the ills and the hardships of travel. 

The driver ordered an hour's rest. 

IX

After we had warmed ourselves a little in the village inn, wereturned to our seats in the coach, and the drive continued his"talk" with the horses. The old man resumed his story:--

Well, I had fallen into debt; and my two creditors were very hard tosatisfy. Jacob had offered, though vainly, to sacrifice his skinfor mine and suffer the lashes intended for me. Marusya took thetrouble to walk all the way to the sergeant's house and talk withhim, to save me from punishment. Thus I was indebted to both ofthem, but with a difference. While trying to belittle the goodintentions of jacob, I tried at the same time to belittle myobligation to him, whose authority was fast becoming irksome. Marusya, on the other hand, refused to accept my thanks. . . . . 

Well, by that time I had long considered myself a good youngsoldier. I knew I was growing in the favor of my superiors. Thesergeant had praised me repeatedly, in my presence and in myabsence. I began to feel my own worth, to cherish militaryaspirations, and to burn with the ambition of a soldier. Many atime I dreamt I was promoted from the ranks, had become a colonel, and was promoted to a higher rank still. . . . I fought in battles, performed wonderful feats. . . . 

About that time they began to talk in the army about the Turks. Jacob and I had our differences with respect to them. He tried toprove to me that the Turks, being the sons of Ishmael, were ourcousins. But I did not believe it. I did not wish to believe it, in spite of everything. He claimed that the children of Ishmaelwere heroes, brave as lions. But I used to say, "Just give me tenTurks, and I shall put them out of business with one shot!"

On account of these talks Jacob and I began to avoid one another'scompany. He was too hard on me, with his endless contradictions, admonitions, and warnings. 

One day we went out target shooting. Jacob fired twelve shots insuccession, at long range, and every shot was a bull's eye. Heoutdid all his comrades on that day. Then the sergeant put his handon Jacob's shoulder, and said: "Bravo, Jacob! I see a comingofficer in you! Have you a petition to make of me for something Ican grant?" Then Jacob saluted, and asked to be permitted to recitehis Hebrew prayers daily and rest on Saturdays. The sergeantsmiled, and granted Jacob's request. 

I may just as well tell you now that long before this incident theauthorities had lost all hope of getting us converted to the rulingfaith. They became convinced that we did not budge so much as aninch, in spite of all the pressure and tortures we had to stand. They realized at last that only compulsion could make us say certainprayers before the crucifix every morning. So by and by they gaveit up. And Jacob's request was not so hard to grant after all. 

From that moment Jacob became a bitter enemy of the Turks. Hepictured them as midgets, and named his patron's dog "Turk. " Asidefrom all this there was a general change in Jacob's disposition; itwas something that one could only feel, but not exactly see. 

We had a very hard winter that year, quite different from what wehave now. Nowadays the very seasons of the year seem to havesoftened: new generations--new people; new times--new winters. Why, only last mid-winter I saw the rabbi's daughter-in-law pass throughthe streets bareheaded. In the mid-summer she drank hot tea, andcaught a cold in her teeth. It is all the way I am telling you: theword is turned topsyturvy. In olden times a married woman would notdare uncover her hair even in the presence of her husband; it wasalso thought dangerous even for a man to go out bareheaded in wintertime; and nobody ever caught a cold in midsummer. Nowadays thingsare different: only last winter I saw soldiers shiver with cold, while in our time a soldier was ashamed to show he was afraid of thecold. Yes, new generations, new soldiers; new times, new seasons. . . . 

In short, that winter was a very hard one: heavy snowfalls, snow-storms, and no roads. The peasants could not go outside of thevillage; they had to stay home, and being idle and lonesome, theycelebrated their weddings at that convenient season. Many peopleused to go to their weddings merely as sight-seers, I among them, for my sergeant gave me plenty of freedom. I had been excused froma large part of the drill; it was really superfluous as far as I wasconcerned. I had long learned all there was to learn. So I hadmuch leisure to knock about in. Well, my sergeant rather liked usgrown-up Cantonists. We were, with hardly an exception, very goodsoldiers indeed. And, after all, what was the hope of the sergeant, if not the praise of his superior, "Bravo, sergeant!" He liked tohear it, just as we ourselves liked to hear his "Bravo, boys, welldone!"

One of the weddings of that season happened to take place in thehouse of the richest peasant of the village, one of those peasantswho try to rise above their class. It goes without saying thatamong the invited guests was the very cream of the village society:the few Government officials, the village elder, the clerk of thevillage, our sergeant, etc. Yes, as to our sergeant, he was a jollysort of fellow. He enjoyed a good laugh himself, and liked to hearothers laugh. He liked to pass jokes with his soldiers, too. Butthen he was always the first to laugh at his own jokes; it seemed asif he might laugh himself to death. Of course, his hearty laughtermade one laugh with him, joke or no joke. Yes, he was a goodfellow; may he, too, have his place among the righteous in Paradise. True, he had us switched once in a while; but that was the way ofthe world in those days. For he, too, grew up and had been promotedfrom under the birch-rods. You know what all this reminds me of?take this driver, for instance: he is used to belabor his horseswith the whip; and yet he likes them, you may be sure. Of course, our sergeant would scold us once in a while, too. But then hisscolding seemed to hurt him more than us: he looked as if he hadgotten the scolding himself. The jokers of our company used to sayof him, that he stood up every morning before his own uniform, andsaluted it as it hung on the wall. . . . 

In short, he liked to mingle with people and to make merry; then hewas always the happiest of all. 

Of course, he also had been invited to that wedding. 

Marusya, too, was there, and that was against her habit. She keptaway from all kinds of public gatherings and festivities. And rightshe was, too, in staying away. For it was in the company of othergirls that her brooding, melancholy disposition showed itself mostclearly. Did I say melancholy? No it was not exactly melancholy. It was rather the feeling of total isolation, which one could nothelp reading on her face. And a total stranger she certainly was inthat throng. When she kept quiet, her very silence betrayed herpresence among the chattering girls. One could almost hear hersilence. And when she did take part in the conversation, her voicesomehow sounded strange and far away in the chorus of voices. Hervery dress seemed different, though she was dressed just like anyother of the village girls. It was in her gait, her deportment, inher very being that she differed from the rest of the girls. Fromthe moment she entered the house she had to run the gauntlet ofinquisitive looks, which seemed to pierce her very body and made herlook like a sieve, as it were. I looked at Marusya, and it seemedto me that her face had become longer and her lips more compressed;her eyes seemed wider open and lying deeper in her sockets. Shelooked shrunken and contracted, very much like my mother on the eveof the Ninth of Av, when she read aloud the Lamentations for thebenefit of her illiterate women-friends. 

Well, that evening the sergeant danced with Marusya, neglecting theother girls entirely. They kept on refusing the invitations of thecavaliers, in the hope that they might yet have a chance to dancewith the sergeant. The result was that the cavaliers were angrywith the girls; the girls, with Marusya; and I, with the sergeant. 

And when a recess was called, something happened: one of thebachelors, Serge Ivanovich, my old enemy, stood up behind Marusya, and shouted with all his might, "Zhidovka!" Then the envious girlsbroke out into a malicious giggle. 

Marusya turned crimson. She looked first at the sergeant: he wascurling his mustache, and tried to look angry. Then Marusya turnedaway from him, and I caught her eye. Well, that was too much forme. I could not stand it any longer. I sprang at Serge and draggedhim to Marusya. I struck him once and twice, got him by the neck, and belabored him with the hilt of my sword. 

"Apologize!" said I. 

Now, no one is obedient as your Gentile once you have him down. AndSerge Ivanovich did not balk. He apologized in the very words thatI dictated to him. Then I let him go. The sergeant looked at meapprovingly, as if wishing to say, "Well done!" This prevented theyoung men from attacking me. 

Marusya left the house, and I followed her. Once outside, she brokeinto tears. She said something between sobs, but I could not makeout what she meant. I thought she was complaining of someone, probably her mother. I wished very much to comfort her, but I didnot know how. So we walked on in silence. The hard, crisp snow wassqueaking rhythmically under our feet, as if we were trying to playa tune. And from the house snatches of music reached us, mixed withsounds of quarreling and merry-making. It seemed as if all thosesounds were pursuing us: "Zhid! Zhid!" Suddenly a sense ofresentment overtook me, as if I had been called upon to defend theJews. And I blurted out:

"If it is so hard to be insulted once by a youngster who cannotcount his own years yet, how much harder is it to hear insults dayin and day out, year in and year out?"

Marusya looked at me with sparkling eyes. She thought I was angrywith her and meant her. Then she wanted to soothe my feelings, andshe said wonderingly:

"Years? What, pray, did I do to you? I only wanted you not tolisten to Jacob. He is a bad man. He hates me. He is forever onthe lookout to separate us!"

"He is afraid, " said I, "I might yet get converted. "

At this Marusya gave me an irresistible look, the look of a mother, of a loving sister. 

"No, " she said decidedly, "I shall not let you do that. You andyour daughters will be unhappy forever. You know what I havedecided? I have decided never to get married. For I know that myown daughters will always be called Zhidovka. " At this point Ibecame sorry for the turn our conversation had taken, and I cared nomore for the defense of the Jews. After a brief silence Marusyaturned to me:

"Why does mother dislike Jews so much? She surely knows them betterthan papa does. "

"Very likely she fears being called Zhidovka, as they called you. "

"But, then, why did she get herself into that trouble?"

"Ask yourself; she may tell you. " . . . . 

Never mind what passed between us afterwards. It does not suit aman of my age to go into particulars, the way the story-writers do. Suffice it to tell you that our relations became very muchcomplicated. Marusya attached herself to me; she became a sister tome. 

So, after all, Jacob's fears had been well founded from the verybeginning. I felt I had gotten myself into a tangle, but I didnothing to escape from it; on the contrary, I was getting myselfdeeper and deeper into it. --

Here the old man's eyes flashed with a fire that fairly penetratedthe darkness, and for a moment I thought it was but a youth ofeighteen who was sitting opposite me. I was glad that the dark hidthe whiteness of the old man's beard from my view. The white beardwas entirely out of harmony with the youthful ardor of its owner'sspeech. 

There was a silence of a few minutes, and the old man continued hisstory:--

X

Hard as Anna's lot was, Peter himself was not very happy either. Ido not know how things are managed nowadays. As I told you before, new times bring new people with new ways. It never happened in ourday that a Jewish maiden, no matter what class she belonged to, should throw herself at a young Gentile, and tell him, "Now, I amready to leave my faith and my people, if you will marry me. " Inour day there never was a case of apostasy except after a good dealof courting. No Jewish girl ever left her faith, unless there was aproposal of marriage accompanied by much coaxing. It required agreat deal of coaxing and enticing on the part of the man. Onlyextravagant promises and assurances, which never could be made good, could prompt a Jewish maiden to leave her faith. And such had beenthe case with Khlopov, as Anna told me afterwards. 

Anna, or, as she had been called as a Jewess, Hannah, had spent hergirlhood under the rule of a stepmother. Peter was a young manearning a fair salary as a clerk at the Town Hall. He was afrequent visitor at Bendet's wine-shop. And Peter was an expertjudge of the comeliness of Jewish maidens in general and of Anna'sbeauty in particular. So, when Pater did come, he came as averitable angel-protector. He came to save her from the yoke of astepmother and make her his wife. He promised her "golden castles"and a "paradise on earth. " All that would be hers but for oneobstacle: she had to renounce her faith. At first Anna wasunwilling. But the stepmother made Anna as miserable as only humanbeings know how. Then Bendet's business began to go from bad toworse, so that Anna had very slim prospects of ever exchanging theyoke of a stepmother for that of a husband. At the same time Peterurged his suit, coaxing her more and more. Anna warned Peter, thatin her new life she might find misery instead of happiness. She wassure she would be a stranger to the people with whom she would haveto come in contact. Should she happen to be below the other women, they would despise her. Should she happen to be above them, theywould envy and hate her. Here she certainly spoke like aprophetess. But Peter kept on assuring her that she was the verybest of all women, and that he would be her protector in allpossible troubles. Then she argued that he might not be happyhimself; that he would have to fight many a battle. His parentswould surely not agree with him. His relations would shun him. Inshort, he would be isolated. Peter laughed at her, and told herthat all her fears were nothing but the imagination of an unhappymaiden who did not believe in the possibility of ever being happy. He told her also that not all the women in the world were as bad asher stepmother. Still Hannah was unwilling. Then Peter attackedher with a new weapon. He made believe he was ill, and let her knowthat if he should die, it would be her fault; and if he did not die, he would commit suicide, and his last thought would be that the Jewsare cruel, and rejoice in the misfortune of a Christian. Then Hannagave in, did as she was urged, and was renamed Anna. 

Now what Anna found in actual life far exceeded what Hannah hadprophesied. The women of the village kept aloof from her, and formany reasons. The first reason was that she never visited thevillage tavern. She never drank any liquor herself, nor treated hervisitors with it. And nothing in the world brings such peopletogether as liquor does. Then the men hated her for the purity andchastity which she brought from her father's house. Besides, menand women alike envied the prosperity of Khlopov's household, whichwas due only to Anna's thrift. All those reasons, as well as manyothers, were included in the one word "Zhidovka. " So that word maystand for anything you choose. As to Peter's brothers andrelatives, they not only kept away from him but also became his openor secret enemies. 

By and by Peter recognized that Hannah's fears were not the resultof mere imagination, but the true prophecy of a mature young woman, who had foreseen her own future, and he could not help feeling hurt. That bitter thought was possibly the only reason why he frequentedthe establishment of "our Moshko. " He wanted to get rid of theaccursed thought; but he did not succeed. He pined for the timewhen he lived among Jews; but Anna could not possibly return to liveamong them. In the meantime Peter sickened, and took to bed. Annaknew there was still some litigation pending between Khlopov and hisrelations, and his title to the property he held by inheritance wasdisputed. And she always feared the worst: should she survivePeter, his relations would start proceedings against her, dispossessher and Marusya, and let them shift for themselves. Many a time didAnna mention the matter to Peter in a casual, off-hand way; but hemerely smiled his usual smile, listened, and forgot all about it thenext morning. 

Well, that was a weakness of Peter's. Writing official papers hadbeen his lifework, and when he had to do writing in his own behalf, he felt disgusted. He could not touch the pen when his own affairswere involved. Even the writing of a simple letter he used to putoff from day to day. And when it came to clear up the title to hisholding, he would have had to write papers and fill out documentsenough to load two pack-donkeys. Small wonder, then, that he keptputting it off. 

But the time came when it was necessary that Anna should speak tohim about the matter; and yet she could not muster up enough courageto do it. For at times she thought herself nothing but a strangerin the place. Who was she anyway, to inherit the property left byold Simeon Khlopov, deceased? On one occasion she asked me to callPeter's attention to the matter of his title to the property. Ientered the sick-room and began to discuss the matter cautiously, ina roundabout way, so as not to excite the patient by implying thathis end might be near. But my precautions were unnecessary. Hespoke very cooly of the possibility of his end coming at any moment, but at the same time he insisted that there was really no need tohurry, a proper time to settle the matter would be found. 

Now here you see one more difference between Jews and Gentiles. Tolook at the Gentiles, would you ever think them all fools? Why, youmay find many a shrewd man among them, many a man who could get meand you into his net, as the spider the fly. But when it comes totaking care of the next day, the future, they are rather foolish. They do not foresee things as clearly as the Jew does. Forinstance, do I not work hard to save up money for my daughter'sdowry, even though I hardly expect her to get married for two yearsat least? Do I not try hard to pay off the mortgage on my house, soas to leave it to my children free and clear? Say what you will, Ihold to my opinion, that Gentile-folk do not feel the "to-morrow" askeenly as we do. If you like, the whole life of a Jew is nothingbut an anticipation of "to-morrow. " Many a time I went without ameal simply because I forgot to eat, or thought I had eaten already. But I never forget anything that concerns the coming day. I canhardly explain it to you, but many a time I thought, dull as mybrains were made by my soldier's grub, that the Jew is altogether acreature of "to-morrow. "

Well, Peter listened to me; he saw there was reason in what I toldhim; and yet he did not feel that way. He did not feel thenecessity of acting immediately, and he put it off. 

Now, it seems to me that when things come to such a pass between aGentile husband and his Jewish wife, the results are bound to bestrange, unusual, and anything but agreeable. It is all somethinglike--let me see--something like what is written in the Bible aboutthe confusion of tongues, when one could not understand the speechof his fellow. Indeed, had Peter known that it was Anna who sent meto him, he would have resented it surely, and would have thoughtthat she cared more for his inheritance than she cared for him. 

And Peter died, after a long illness. 

Then Anna had to go through an ordeal she had not yet experienced inher life of apostasy: she had to go through the ceremony of mourningaccording to the prescribed rules. And her fears regarding thehouse turned out to have been but too well founded. The villageelder, in the name of the rest of the relatives, disputed Peter'stitle to the property. Anna was given a small sum of money, and thewhole piece of property was deeded over to Serge Ivanovich. As toAnna and Marusya, they had to be satisfied with the little moneythey received. 

In the end it turned out that there was a deeper purpose at thebottom of the whole affair. That scamp, Serge Ivanovich, understoodvery well that in every respect Marusya was above the rest of thevillage girls, and he made up his mind to marry her. To be sure, hehated the Jews: they always managed to intrude where they were leastwanted; and he never missed an opportunity of insulting Anna and herdaughter. But that is just the way they all are: they will spitto-day, to lick it off to-morrow. At the same time he knew wellenough that Marusya would not be willing to have him. Yet, in spiteof it all, he sent some friends with the formal message of aproposal. As an inducement he promised to deed the whole propertyto Anna and Marusya. Anna seemed willing enough to accept theoffer. Then Marusya turned to me. I began to side with Anna. 

"You are a liar!" shouted Marusya, turning to me. And she wasright. Indeed, I did not wish at all to see Marusya marry Serve. But I cannot tell why I had said the opposite. Then Marusya curtlydismissed the representatives of the suitor. 

I decided not to part from the two unhappy women just then and leavethem alone with their misfortune. But Heaven willed otherwise. TheCrimean War had been decided upon, and our regiment was the first tobe sent to the front. So I was taken from my dear friends just whenthey needed me most. --

XI

A mixture of light and darkness appeared in a corner of the easternsky, something like the reflection of a distant conflagration. Thelight spread farther and farther, and swallowed many a star. Itlooked as if some half-extinguished firebrand of a world had blazedup again, and was burning brightly once more. But no! that wasneither a world-catastrophe nor a conflagration: some mysterious newcreation was struggling into existence. And after the noiselessstorm and battle of lights, the moon appeared, angry-looking, andragged-edged. In the light of the moon the speaker too lookedstrange and fantastic, like a relic of a world that is no more. 

The old man continued:--

Well, on that day we turned a new leaf in our lives. Till then wehad been like people who live against their own will, without aim orobject. We had to get up in the morning, because we had gone to bedthe night before. We ate, because we were hungry. We went to ourdrills, because we were ordered to go. And we went to sleep atnight, because we felt tired. All our existence seemed to be onlyfor the sake of discipline; and that discipline, again, seemed athing in itself. But the moment they told us of mobilization andwar, our riddle was solved. It suddenly became clear to us why wehad been caught and brought to where we were, and why we had beensuffering all the time. It looked as if year in, year out, we hadbeen walking in the darkness of some cave, and all of a sudden ourpath became light. And we were happy. 

I saw Jacob: he, too, looked happy, which had not been his way forthe last few years. From the moment he had received permission topray in Hebrew and observe the Sabbath, his mood had changed for theworse: he looked as if he were "possessed. " He complained that hisprayers were not so sweet to him any more as they had been before;and the Sabbath rest was a real burden upon him. Then, his fatherdid not appear in his dreams any more. Besides, he confessed thathe forgot his prayers many a time, and was not very strict as to theSabbath. He feared his prayers were no longer acceptable in Heaven. No, said he, that was not his destiny: the Jewishness of aCantonist lay only in suffering martyrdom. But with the news of thecoming war, a change came over him. He became gay as a child. 

One morning, when we were assembled on the drill grounds before thehouse of the sergeant, I was called into the house. "Hourvitz, "said my good sergeant, turning to me, "three beautiful creatures askme not to send you to the fighting line but to appoint you to someauxiliary company. Ask, and I shall do so. "

"Sir, " said I, "if this be your order, I have but to obey; but if mywish counts for anything, I should prefer to stay with the colorsand go to the fighting line. Otherwise what was our preparation forand our training of many years?"

A smile of satisfaction appeared on the face of the sergeant. 

"And if you fall in battle?"

"I shall not fall, sir, before I make others fall. "

"What makes you feel so sure of it?"

"I cannot tell, sir; but it is enough if I am sure of it. "

"Well, I agree with you. Now let us hear what your fair advocateshave to say. "

He opened the door of an adjoining room, and Anna, Marusya, and thesergeant's wife appeared. Then a dispute began. They insisted ontheir opinion, and I on mine. 

"Let us count votes, " said the sergeant. "I grant you two votes;together with my own vote it makes three against tree. "

Then I looked at Marusya. She thought a little, and added her voteto mine. So the majority prevailed. When I went outside, Marusyafollowed me, and handed me a small parcel. What I found there, among other things, was a small Hebrew prayer book, which Marusyamust have gotten at Moshko's, and a small silver cross which she hadalways worn around her neck. We looked at each other and keptsilent: was there anything to be said?

After she had walked away a few steps, she turned around, as if shehad forgotten something. 

"And if you return . . . ?"

"Then to you I return, " was my answer. She went on, and I turned tolook back in her direction: she also looked back at me. Later Iturned again to look at her, and she, too, kept looking back, untilwe lost sight of each other. 

Before Anna could be dispossessed, Heaven wrought a miracle: SergeIvanovich was drafted into the army. He was attached to ourregiment, and we served in the same company. In the meantime Annaremained in possession of the house. 

XII

So, after all, they had not been mere sport, those years ofdrilling, of exercising, of training to "stand up, " to "lie down, "to "run, " etc. , etc. . . . 

It had been all for the sake of war, and it was to war that we weregoing. My companion in exile, I mean my Barker, did not wish topart from me. Ashamed though I am, I must yet call him "my truefriend. " Human beings as a rule forget favors rendered. This isthe way God has made them. In very truth, it is only your soldier, your fellow in exile, and your dog that are able to serve you andlove you at the risk of their own lives. I chased Barker away, buthe kept on following me. I struck him: he took the blows, andlicked my hands. I struck him over the legs with the stock of mygun. He broke out in a whine, and ran after me, limping. Marusyacaught him and locked him up in the stable. I thought I had gottenrid of him. But some hours later I saw him limping after me. ThenI realized that the dog was fated to share all the troubles ofcampaign life with me. And my Barker became a highly respectabledog. The first day he eyed everybody with a look of suspicion. Thebright buttons and the blue uniforms scared him; possibly becausebuttons and uniforms went with stocks of guns like the one that hadgiven him the lame leg. By and by Barker picked me and Jacob outfrom among the soldiers, and kept near us. They used to say in ourcompany that Barker was a particular friend of jews, and he knew aJew when he saw one. Very likely that was so. But then they neverknew how many slices of bread and meat Barker had gotten from Jewishhands before he knew the difference. 

Just about that time we got other new companions. One of them was acertain Pole, Vassil Stefanovich Zagrubsky, blessed be his memory, Jew-hater though he was. 

The beginning of our acquaintance promised no good. That particularPole was poor but proud--a poor fellow with many wants. Then he wasa smoker, too. I also enjoyed a smoke when I had an extra copper inmy pocket. But Zagrubsky had a passion for smoking, and when he hadno tobacco of his own, he demanded it of others. That was his way:he could not beg; he could only demand. Three of us shared onetent: Zagrubsky, Serge, and myself. Serge was a soldier incomfortable circumstances. He had taken some money with him fromhome, and received a monthly allowance from his parents. He alwayshad excellent tobacco. Once, when he happened to open his tobaccopouch to roll a cigarette, Zagrubsky took notice of it, and putforth his hand to take some tobacco. That was his way: whenever hesaw a tobacco pouch open, he would try to help himself to some ofits contents. But Serge was one of those peasants whose ambitionextends beyond their class. He was painfully proud, prouder thanany of the nobles. Before entering the service he had made up hismind to "rise. " He wanted to become an officer, so that thevillagers would have to stand at attention before him, when hereturned home. Therefore he gave Zagrubsky a supercilious look ofcontempt, and unceremoniously closed the pouch when the Pole wantedto take some tobacco. I was sorry for the Pole, and offered himsome of my own tobacco. He did not fail to take it, but at the sametime I heard him sizzle out "Zhid" from between his tightly closedlips. I looked at him in amazement: how on earth could he guess Iwas a Jew, when I spoke my Russian with the right accent andinflection, while his was lame, broken, and half mixed with Polish?That was a riddle to me. But I had no time to puzzle it out, and Iforgot it on the spot. 

We had long been occupying the same position, waiting for a merrybeginning. All that time seemed to us something like a preparationfor a holiday; but the long tiresome wait was disgusting. In themeantime something extraordinary happened in our camp. Our camp wassurrounded by a cordon of sentries. At some distance from thecordon was the camp of the purveyors, the merchants who supplied thesoldiers with all kinds of necessaries. Without a special permit nopurveyor could pass the line of sentries and enter the camp. 

It happened that one of those purveyors excited the suspicion ofJacob. Without really knowing why, Jacob came to consider him asuspicious character. Even Barker, timid dog that he was, onceviciously attacked that particular man, as if to tear him to pieces. And it was with great difficulty that Jacob saved him from Barker'steeth. But from that time on Jacob began to watch the man closely. That very day we were told that General Luders was going to visitour camp. Jacob was doing sentry duty. Just then the suspiciouspurveyor appeared suddenly, as if he had sprung out of the ground. Jacob had his eye on him. Presently Jacob noticed that the fellowwas hiding behind a bank of earth; he saw him take out a pistol fromhis pocket and aim it somewhere into space. That very momentGeneral Luders appeared on the grounds. Without thinking much, Jacob aimed his gun at the purveyor and shot him dead. Oninvestigation, it turned out that the purveyor was a Pole, who hadsmuggled himself into the camp in order to assassinate the General. 

Then they began to gossip in the regiment about Jacob's "rising. "General Luders patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Bravo, officer!"

A few days later I met Jacob: he looked pale and worn out. Hissmile was more like the frozen smile of the agony of death. I toldhim I had dreamt he was drowning in a river of oil. Then he told meconfidentially that he had promised his superiors to renounce hisfaith. 

Well, in the long run, it appeared that there was much truth inJacob's idea, that a Jew in exile must not accept favors fromGentiles. And the temptation to which Jacob had been exposed wascertainly much harder to stand than a thousand lashes, or even, forthat matter, the whole bitter life of a Cantonist. The pity of it!

A few days later Zagrubsky was appointed to serve Jacob. But whenZagrubsky reported for duty, Jacob dismissed him. It was againstJacob's nature to have others do for him what he could do himself. 

Zagrubsky departed, hissing "Zhid" under his breath. It was the wayhe had treated me. My patience was gone. I put myself in his way, stopped him and asked him: "Now listen, you Pollack, how do you cometo find out so quickly who is a Jew, and who is not? As far as Ican see, you cannot speak Russian correctly yourself: why, then, doyou spy on others? I have not yet forgotten that it was on accountof my tobacco that you recognized I was a Zhid, too. "

"O, that is all very simple, " said he. "I never saw suchlickspittles as the Jews are. They are always ready to obligeothers with their favors and refuse honors due to themselves. Thatis why the authorities favor them so much. Do you wish to know whata Jew is? A Jew is a spendthrift, a liar, a whip-kisser, a sneak. He likes to be trampled on much more than others like to trample onhim. He makes a slave of himself in order to be able to enslaveeverybody else. I hate the Jews, especially those from whom I everget any favors. "

Well, by this time I am ready almost to agree with many of thePole's assertions. The Jew is very lavish in his dealings withGentiles. He is subservient, and always ready to give up what ishis due. All that is a puzzle to the Gentiles, and every Jew whohas been brought up and educated among them knows that as well as Ido. Sometimes they have a queer explanation for it. A gentile whohas ever tasted of Jewish kindness and unselfishness will say tohimself, "Very likely the Jew feels that he owes me much more. "

To be brief: Zagrubsky and I became very much attached to eachother. But we never tried to disguise our feelings. I knew he wasmy enemy, and he knew that I was repaying him in kind, with openenmity. That was just what Zagrubsky liked. We loved our mutualcordial hatred. When one feels like giving vent to his feelings, like hating, cursing, or detesting somebody or something, one'senemy becomes dearer than a hundred friends. 

Then there came a certain day, and that day brought us closertogether for a moment, closer than we should ever be again. Ithappened at night . . . . Cursed be that night! swallowed up thefollowing day! . . . . 

We soldiers had long become tired of our drill and our manoeuvres;we got tired of "attacking" under the feint of a "retreat, " and of"retreating" under the feint of an "attack. " We were disgusted withstanding in line and discharging our guns into the air, without everseeing the enemy. In our days a soldier hated feints andmake-believes. "Get at your enemy and crush his head, or lie downyourself a crushed 'cadaver'"--that was our way of fighting, andthat was the way we won victories. As our general used to say: "Thebullet is a blind fool, but the bayonet is the real thing. "

At last, at last, we heard the quick, nervous notes of the bugle, and the hurried beats of the drum, the same we used to hear year in, year out. But till that moment it was all "make-believe" drill. Itwas like what we mean by the passage in the Passover Haggodah: "Anyone who is in need may come, and partake of the Passah-lamb. . . . "Till that moment we used to attack the air with our bayonets andpierce space right and left, "as if" the enemy had been before us, ready for our steel. We were accustomed to pierce and to vanquishthe air and spirits, and that is all. At the same time there wassomething wonderful, sweet, and terrible in those blasts of thebugle, something that was the very secret of soldiery, somethingthat went right into our souls when we returned home from our drill. . . . 

But on that day it was not drill any more, and not make-believe anymore, no! Before us was the real enemy, looking into our very eyesand thirsting for our blood. 

Then, just for a moment I thought of myself, of my own flesh, whichwas not made proof against the sharp steel. I remembered that I hadmany an account to settle in this world; that I had started many athing and had not finished it; and that there was much more tostart. I thought of my own enemies, whom I had not harmed as yet. I thought of my friends, to whom I had so far done no good. Inshort, I thought I was just in the middle of my lifework, and thatthe proper moment to die had not yet come. But all that came as amere flash. For in the line of battle my own self was dissolved, asit were, and was lost, just like the selves of all who were there. I became a new creature with new feelings and a new consciousness. But the thing cannot be described: one has to be a soldier and standin the line of battle to feel it. You may say, if you like, that Ibelieve that the angel-protectors of warring nations descend from onhigh, and in the hour of battle enter as new souls into the soldiersof the line. 

Then and there an end came also to the vicissitudes of my Barker. Ifound him dead, stretched out at full length on a bank of earth, which was the monument over the grave of the heroes of the firstday's fighting. In the morning they all went to battle in the fullflowering of strength and thirsty for victory, only to be draggeddown at night into that hole, to be buried there. Well, the earthknows no distinction between one race and another; its worms feedalike on Jew and Gentile. But there, in Heaven, they surely knowthe difference between one soul and another, and each one is sent toits appointed place. 

I was told that Jacob was among those buried in the common grave. Quite likely. I whispered a Kaddish over the grave, giving it thebenefit of the doubt. 

Of course, I was not foolish enough to cry over the cadaver of adog; and yet it was a pity. After all, it was a living creature, too; it had shared all kinds of things with me: exile, hunger, rations, blows. And it had loved me, too. . . . 

The next morning we were out again. In a moment line faced line, man faced man, enemy faced enemy. It was a mutual murderousattraction, a bloodthirsty love, a desire to embrace and to kill. 

It was very much like the pull I felt towards Marusya. 

. . . . Lightening. . . . Shots. . . . Thunder. . . . The talk ofthe angel-protectors it is. . . . Snakes of fire flying upward, spreading out . . . . Shrapnel . . . . Bombs a-bursting . . . . Soldiers standing . . . . Reeling . . . . Falling . . . . Crushed, or lapping their own blood. . . . Thinning lines . . . . Breast tobreast. . . . Hellish howls over the field. . . . 

Crashing comes the Russian music, drowning all that hellish chorus, pouring vigor, might, and hope into the hearts of men. . . . 

Alas, the music breaks off. . . . Where is the bugle? . . . . Thetrumpet is silenced. . . . The trombone breaks off in the middle ofa note. . . . Only one horn is left. . . . Higher and higher riseits ringing blasts, chanting, as it were, "Yea, thought I walkthrough the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; forThou art with me!"

In mighty embrace men clasp one another. . . . Stabbing, beingstabbed . . . . Killing, being killed. . . . . 

I work away right and left, I expect my death-blow at every moment, but I seem to be charmed: swords and bayonets surround me, but nevertouch me. . . . 

Yes, it was a critical moment; it could not last much longer; oneside had to give way. 

But the Russians could not retreat, because in their very midst thepriest was standing, the ikon of the Virgin in one hand and thecrucifix in the other. 

The soldiers looked at the images, got up new courage, and didwonders. 

Do you remember the Biblical story of the brazen serpent? That wasjust like it. 

Well, a bullet came flying, whistling, through the air, and thepriest fell. Then the ikon and the crucifix began to wobble thisway and that way, and fell down, too. The soldiers saw it, lostheart, and wanted to run. 

At that moment I felt as if I were made of three different men. 

Just imagine: Samuel the individual, Samuel the soldier, and Samuelthe Jew. 

Says Samuel the individual: "You have done well enough, and it isall over for now. Run for dear life. "

Says Samuel the soldier: "Shame on you, where is your bravery? Theregimental images are falling. Try, perhaps they may be saved yet. "

Says Samuel the Jew: "Of course, save; for a Jew must ever do morethan is expected of him. "

But Samuel the individual replies: "Do you remember how many lashesyou have suffered on account of these very images?"

Says Samuel the Jew again: "Do you know what these images are, andto what race they belong?"

Many such thoughts flashed through my brain; but it was all in amoment. And in a moment I was at the side of the priest. He wasalive; he was only wounded in his hand. I raised him to his feet, put the images into his hands, lifted them up, and supported them. 

"This way, Russians!"

I do not know who shouted these words. Perhaps I did; perhaps someone else; perhaps it was from Heaven. 

However, the victory was ours. 

But I did not remain on my feet a long time; a bullet struck me, andI fell. . . . . 

What happened then, I cannot tell. All I know is that I dreamtsomething very agreeable: I was a little boy again, hanging on tomy father's coat-tails, and standing beside him in the Klaus on aYom-Kippur even, during the most tearful prayers, and a mischievouslittle boy began to play with me, pricking my leg with a needleevery now and then. . . . 

When I came to my senses, I found myself in a sea of howls, groans, and cries, which seemed to be issuing from the very depths of theearth. For a moment I thought I was in purgatory, among the sinnerswho undergo punishment. But pretty soon I recognized everything. Iturned my head, and saw Zagrubsky lying near me, wounded andgroaning. He looked at me, and there was love and hatred mixed inthat look. "Zhid, " said he, with his last breath, and gave up theghost. 

Rest in peace, thou beloved enemy of mine!

From behind I heard someone groaning and moaning; but the voicesounded full and strong. I turned my head in the direction of thevoice, and I saw that Serge Ivanovich was lying on his side andmoaning. He looked around, stood up for a while, and lay downagain. This manoeuvre he repeated several times in succession. Yousee, the rascal was scheming to his own advantage. He knew verywell that in the end he would have to fall down and groan for good. So he thought it was much cheaper and wiser to do it of his own freewill, than to wait for something to throw him down. The scamp hadseen what I had done before I fell. A thought came to him. Hehelped me to my feet, bandaged my wound, and said:

"Now listen, Samuel: you have certainly done a very great thing; butit is worth nothing to you personally. Nay, worse: they might againtry to make you renounce your faith. So it is really a danger toyou. But, if you wish, just say that I have done it, and I shallrepay you handsomely for it. The priest will not know thedifference. "

Well, it is this way: I always hated get-rich-quick schemes. Inever cared a rap for a penny I had not expected and was not readyto earn. Take, for instance, what I did with the priest: Did Iever expect any honors or profits out of it? Such possible honorsand profits I certainly did not like, and did not look for. Besides, who could assure me that they would not try again to coaxme into renouncing my faith? Why, then, should I put myself intosuch trouble? And I said to Serge:

"You want it badly, Serge, do you? You'd like to see yourselfpromoted, to be an officer? Is that so? Very well, then. Make outa paper assigning the house to Marusya. "

"I promise faithfully. "

"I believe no promises. "

"What shall I do?"

"You have paper and pencil in your pocket?"

"Certainly!"

I turned around, supported myself on both my arms and one knee, andmade a sort of a rickety table of myself. And on my back Sergewrote out his paper, and signed it. But all that was reallyunnecessary. He would have kept his word anyway. For he was alwaysafraid I might blurt out the whole story. Not I, though. May Inever have anything in common with those who profit by falsehoods!

As to what happened later, I cannot tell you exactly. For I wastaken away, first to a temporary hospital, and then to a permanentone. I fell into a fever and lost consciousness. I do not know howmany days or weeks passed by: I was in a different world all thattime. How can I describe it to you? Well, it was a world of chaos. It was all jumbled together: father, mother, military service, ikons, lashes, lambs slaughtered, Peter, bullets, etc. , etc. 

It was all in a jumble, all topsyturvy. And in the midst of thatchaos I felt as if I were a thing apart from myself. My head ached, and yet it felt as if it did not belong to me. . . . Finally Ithought I felt mother bathing me; a delicious feeling of moisturespread over my flesh, and my headache disappeared. Then I felt awarm, soft hand pass over my forehead, cheeks, and neck. . . . 

I opened my eyes, the first time since I lost consciousness, and Iexclaimed:

"Marusya!?"

"Yes, yes, " said she, with a smile, while her eyes brimmed withtears, "it is I. " And behind her was another face:

"Anna?!"

"Rest, rest, " said they, warningly. "Thanks to God, the crisis isover. "

I doubted, I thought it was all a dream. But it was no dream. Itwas all very simple: Anna and Marusya had enlisted and were servingas volunteer nurses at the military hospital, and I had knownnothing of it. 

"Marusya, " said I, "please tell me how do I happen to be here?"

Then she began to tell me how they brought me there, and took medown from the wagon as insensible as a log. But she could notfinish her story; she began to choke with tears, and Anna finishedwhat Marusya wanted to tell me. 

I turned to Marusya:

"Where are my clothes?"

"What do you want them for?"

"There is a paper there. "

I insisted, and she brought the paper. 

"Read the paper, Marusya, " said I. She read the document in whichSerge assigned the house to Marusya. The two women looked at mewith glad surprise. 

"How did you ever get it?"

But I had decided to keep the thing a secret from them, and I did. 

When I was discharged from the hospital, the war was long over, anda treaty of peace had been signed. Had they asked me, I should nothave signed it. --

XIII

Here the old man stopped for a while. Apparently he skipped many anincident, and omitted many a thing that he did not care to mention. I saw he was touching upon them mentally. Her resumed:--

Just so, just so. . . . Many, many a thing may take place withinus, without our ever knowing it. I never suspected that I had beenlonging to see my parents. I never wrote to them, simply because Ihad never learned to write my Jewish well enough. Of course, had mybrother Solomon been taken, he would surely have written regularly, for he was a great penman, may he rest in peace. As to Russian, Icertainly might have written in that language; but then it wouldhave been very much like offering salt water to a thirsty person. And that is why I did not write. I thought I had forgotten myparents. But no! Even that was merely a matter of habit. I hadgotten so used to my feeling of longing that I was not aware ofhaving it. That is the way I explain it to myself. By and by thereopened in my heart a dark little corner that had been closed formany a year. That was the longing for my parents, for my home, mixed with just a trace of anger and resentment. I began to pictureto myself how my folks would meet me: there would be kisses, embraces, tears, neighbors. . . . For, like a silly child, Iimagined they were all alive and well yet, and that the Angel ofDeath would wait till I came and repaid them for all the worry I hadcaused them. . . . And, indeed, would they not have been greatlywronged, had they been allowed to die unconsoled, after they hadrent Heaven with their prayers and lamentations?

But the nearer I came to my native town, the less grew my desire tosee it. A feeling of estrangement crept over me at the sight of theneighborhood. No, it was not exactly a feeling of estrangement, butsome other feeling, something akin to what we feel at therecollection of the pain caused by long-forgotten troubles. I canhardly make it clear to you; it was not unlike what an old man feelsafter a bad dream of the days of his youth. 

It was about this time of the year. The roads were just as bad asnow, the slush just as deep. And it was as nauseating to sit in thecoach only to watch the glittering mud and count the slow steps ofthe horses. In a season like this it is certainly much moreagreeable to dismount and walk. That was just what I did. Mynative town was not far away: only once uphill, once downhill, andthere was the inevitable cemetery, which must be passed when oneenters a Jewish village. The horses could hardly move, and Iovertook them very soon, as I took a short cut, and struck into apath across the peasants' fields. I allowed myself that privilege, because at that time I was still wearing my uniform with the brassbuttons shining brightly. When I descended into the valley, Idecided to cross the cemetery, and so shorten my way. The coach wasfar behind, and I was walking very slowly, that it might reach me atthe other side of the cemetery. My path lay among the gravestones, some of them gray with age, dilapidated, bent forward, as if tryingto overhear the talk of the nether world: some clean and upright, asif gazing proudly heavenwards. It was a world of silence I was in;and heavy indeed is the silence I was in; it is really a speakingsilence. I think there is something real in the belief that thedead talk in their graves. To me it seemed as if the gravestoneswere casting evil glances at me for my having disturbed the silentplace with the glitter of my buttons. And it was with difficultythat I could decipher the inscriptions on the stones. I do not knowwhy it was so: either my Hebrew had got rusty, or else graveyardinscriptions make hard reading in general. 

"Here lieth . . . . The righteous man . . . . Modest, pious . . . . Rabbi Simhah . . . . Shohet. . . . "

I read it all, and shuddered: why, under that very stone lay theremains of my own brother Simhah!

I wanted to shed tears, but my tears did not obey me. I read itagain and again, and when I came to the words "modest, " "pious, " Imumbled something to myself, something angry and envious. Then Ithought I felt the tombstone move, the ground shake under me, as ifa shiver were passing through the air. . . 

"Forgive me, forgive me!"

It was not my ears that caught those words; it was my heart. Iunderstood that it was the soul of my brother apologizing to me forthe action of my parents. Tears began to flow from my eyes. I didnot care to read any further, from fear of finding something I didnot wish to find. I was thinking of my parents. 

And when I entered the house of my parents, I could hardly recognizethem. Wrinkled, bent, with sunken cheeks, they had changed entirelyin appearance. 

Father looked at my buttons, removed his cap, and stood bent beforeme. Mother was busying herself at the oven, and began to speak tofather in a mixture of Hebrew and Yiddish: "Sure enough, some sortof taxes again. . . . Much do we need it now. . . . " Then, in afit of spitefulness, I made believe I was a stranger. 

"Old people, " said I, "I have brought you news from your sonSamuel. " As soon as father heard me speak Yiddish, he ran to thewindow, rubbed his hands against the moist pane, by way of washingthem, and shook hands with me. 

"Peace be with you, young man, " said he. Mother left her corner andstood up before me. Father began fumbling for his glasses, andasked me: "News from my son, you say? Where did you see him last?"

"And when did you see him?" asked mother, shivering. 

I mentioned some imaginary place and date. 

"How does he feel? Was he in the war? Is he well? Does he expectto come home?"

Many such questions followed one another in quick succession. Meanwhile father took me aside, and whispered into my ear: "Howabout . . . . How about religion?" Out of sheer spitefulness Iwanted to worry the poor old folks a little; may the Lord notconsider it a sin on my part. 

I said: "Had Rabbi Simhah the Shohet been in his place, he surelywould have withstood all temptations!" . . . . 

"What, converted?!"

I kept silent, and the old people took it as a sign of affirmation. 

They hung their heads despondently, and kept silent, too. Thenfather asked me once more:

"Married a Gentile? Has children?" I still kept silent. My oldmother wept silently. My heart melted within me, but I bracedmyself up and kept silent. I felt as if a lump in my throat waschoking me, but I swallowed it. I heard mother talking to herself:"O Master of the Universe, Father who art in Heaven, Thou Mercifuland Righteous!" . . . . As she said it, she shook her head, as ifaccepting God's verdict and complaining at the same time. 

The old man stood up, his beard a-quiver. His hand shook nervously, and he said in a tone of dry, cold despair:

"Ett. . . . Blessed be the righteous Judge!" as though I had toldhim the news of his son's death. With that he took out a pocketknife, and wanted to make the "mourning cut. " At that moment my earcaught the sound of the heartrending singsong of the Psalms. Thevoice was old and tremulous. It was an old man, evidently a lodger, who was reading his Psalter in an adjoining room:

"For the Lord knoweth the path of the righteous. . . . "

The memories of the long past overtook me, and I told my parents whoI was. . . . . 

And yet--continued Samuel after some thought--and yet they were notat peace, fearing I had deceived them. And they never rested tillthey got me married to my Rebekah, "according to the laws of Mosesand Israel. "

Well, two years passed after my wedding, and troubles began; I got atoothache, may you be spared the pain! That is the way of the Jew:no sooner does he wed a woman and beget children, than all kinds ofills come upon him. 

Some one told me, there was a nurse at the city hospital who knewhow to treat aching teeth and all kinds of ills better than afull-fledged doctor. 

I went to the hospital, and asked for the nurse. 

A young woman came out. . . . 

"Marusya?!"

"Samuel?!"

We were both taken aback. 

"And where is your husband, Marusya?" asked I, after I had caught mybreath. 

"And you, Samuel, are you married?"

"Yes. "

"But I am single yet. "

Yes, yes, she was a good soul! She died long ago. . . . May itplease the Lord to give her a goodly portion in Paradise!--

Here the old man broke off his story with a deep sigh escaping fromhis breast. 

We waved his hand at the son, who was dozing away unconcerned, lurching from side to side. The old man looked at his son, shookhis head, and said:

"Yes, yes, those were times, those were soldiers. . . . It is alldifferent now: new times, new people, new soldiers. . . . 

"It is all make-believe nowadays! . . . . "

 NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR

Av. The month in the Jewish calendar corresponding to July-August. On the ninth day of Av the Temple was taken and destroyed by Titus. 

Arba-Kanfos. Literally "four corners. " A rectangular piece of cloth about one foot wide and three feet long, with an aperture in the middle large enough to pass it over the head. The front part of the garment falls over the chest, the other part covers the shoulders. To its four corners "Tzitzis, " or fringes, are attached in prescribed manner. When made of wool, the Arba-Kanfos is usually called TALLIS-KOTON (which see). 

Bar-Mitzwah. Literally "man of duty. " A Jewish boy who has passed his thirteenth birthday, and has thus attained his religious majority. 

Beadle. The functions of this officer in a Jewish community were somewhat similar to those of the constable in some American villages. 

Candles. The Sabbath is ushered in by lighting the Sabbath candles, accompanied by a short prayer. 

Cantonists. A term applied to Jewish boys drafted into military service during the reign of Nicholas I of Russia (1825-1855). Every Jewish community had to supply its quota; but as parents did not surrender their children willingly, they were secured by kidnappers specially appointed by the Community for the purpose. See CATCHER. The same term was applied to the children of Russian soldiers who were educated for the army in the so-called District, or Canton, Schools. Hence the name. 

Catcher. An agent of the Jewish community prior to the introduction, in 1874, of general military duty in Russia. 

Havdolah. Ceremonial with wine, candles, and spices, accompanied by a prayer, at the end of the Sabbath. 

Haggodah. The ritual used at the Passover eve home service. 

Hallah. In commemoration of the priest's tithe at the time of the Temple. The ceremonial consists of taking a piece of the bread dough before it is baked and throwing it into the fire; a prayer is recited at the same time. 

Heder. Literally, "a room. " Specifically, a school in which Bible and Talmud are taught. 

Kaddish. Literally, "sanctification. " A prayer recited in commemoration of the dead. 

Karaites. Members of a Jewish sect that does not recognize the authority of the Talmud. 

Kosher. Literally, "right, " "fit. " Specifically applied to food prepared in accordance with the Jewish dietary laws. 

Klaus. A synagogue to which students of the Talmud resort for study and discussion. 

Lamdan. A scholar learned in the Torah. 

Mezuzah. Literally, "door-post. " A piece of parchment, inscribed with the SHEMA (which see), together with Deut. 11:13-21, rolled up, and enclosed in an oblong box, which is attached in a prescribed way to the door-post of a dwelling. 

Modeh-Ani. Literally "I affirm. " The opening words of a brief confession of faith. 

Shaatnez. Cloth or a garment made of linen and wool woven together; or a wool garment sewed with linen thread; or a linen garment sewed with wool. 

Shema. Literally, "listen, " The opening words of Deut. 6:4-9. 

Shemad. Literally, "extermination. " Applied figuratively to renunciation of the Jewish faith, whether forced or voluntary. 

Shohet. A slaughterer of cattle licensed by a rabbi. He must examine the viscera of cattle according to the rules laid down in the Talmud. 

Tallis-koton. Literally, "the little Tallis, " or prayer shawl. Worn by some Jews. See ARBA-KANFOS. 

Torah. Literally, "doctrine. " A term applied to the Pentateuch, and to the Talmud with its commentaries. 

Tzitzis. See ARBA-KANFOS. 

Yom-Kippur. Day of Atonement. 

Zhid (fem. Zhidovka: zh sounded like z in azure). Literally, "Judean. " Russian equivalent of English "sheeny. "

__________________________ TRANSCRIBER'S DISCUSSION

The book presents a softer side of Cantonist life than historyrecords. The abducted children (as young as eight) were usuallyraised in barracks ('Cantonments') under brutal conditions designedto break their Jewishness. Speaking Yiddish, or any sign ofJewishness or religious practice, was punished by starvation, beatings, and if that failed outright tortures, resulting in manydeaths, as well as suicides. At age 18, the lads began a 25 yearterm in the army. Reversion to Judaism at any time thereafter was acrime. At its height, in 1854, official records show 7, 515Cantonists conscripted into the Russian army. The Cantonist lawswere ended in 1856 by Tsar Alexander II, almost as soon as he cameto power. 

Alexander II created a general draft in 1874, affecting allRussians. One message of the book is clear; whatever worries Jewishparents may have regarding their drafted child's ability to maintaintheir religion, this modern draft was vastly preferable to theCantonist system, and might even be welcomed for its fairness. 

In retrospect, Steinberg was really using the Cantonist topic as abackdrop for a cultural study. He presents us with severalcharacters, each at a different place in the gray zone betweenJewish and Christian cultures: two Cantonists, one clinging to theJewish side (Jacob); one closer to the non-Jewish side (Samuel, thenarrator); as well as a Jewish convert unhappy with her lot (Anna, whose abuse of Samuel we later understand as the 'self-disdain'often seen among those who had left Judaism); her daughter Marusya, who although fully Christian is ostracized as being a Jewess, andstruggles unsuccessfully to find her place in life; and PeterKhlopov, a full Christian who finds Jewish culture agreeable. Steinberg's portrayal of Samuel makes it clear, even in the firstfew pages, that Samuel, although Jewish, thinks very much like aRussian peasant; in a very real way he straddles that fringe zonebetween the two distinct societies. 

_____________________ TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

Serge Ivanovich acute accent over the a, throughout the text

At such moments he would be ready to hug "be" was erroneously "he" in source text

Zhidovka acute accent over the o, throughout the text

nebulae ae written as a ligature

Vassil Stefanovich Zagrubsky acute accent over the u, throughout the text

manoeuvres oe written as a ligature