iliii
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES

 
 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 A BOOK OF SHORT STORIES
 
 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 A BOOK OF SHORT STORIES 
 
 BY 
 
 DAVID PINSKI 
 
 AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION FROM 
 THE YIDDISH BY 
 
 DR. ISAAC GOLDBERG 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 BRENTANO'S 
 1919
 
 Copyright, 1919, by 
 BRENTANO'S
 
 
 SI 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 vii 
 
 Introduction 
 
 Beruriah 3 
 
 The Temptations of Rabbi Akiba ... 83 
 
 JOHANAN THE HiGH FrIEST . . • • • • lO^ 
 
 Zerubbabel ^31 
 
 Drabkin: a Novelette of Proletarian Life 171 
 
 The Black Cat ^55 
 
 A Tale of a Hungry Man 277 
 
 In the Storm 3^ 
 
 LIBRARY
 
 T 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 HE same traits that distinguish David 
 _ Pinski as a playwright characterise him 
 also as a writer of short fiction. The noted 
 Yiddish author is concerned chiefly with the 
 probing of the human soul,— not that intangible 
 and inconsequential theme of so many vapour- 
 ings, dubbed mystic and symbolistic by the 
 literary labellers,— but the hidden mainspring 
 that initiates, and often guides, our actions. 
 Pinski seeks to penetrate into the secret of 
 human motive. It is not enough for him to 
 depict the deed; he would plumb, if possible, the 
 genetic impulse. That is why, if he must be 
 classified, one places him among the psychologi- 
 cal realists. He is at his best faithful to both 
 the inner and the outer life. 
 
 Thus we find, in his numerous stories and 
 plays, very little of the conventional heroism 
 
 vu
 
 vIH INTRODUCTION 
 
 and villainlsm with which most authors are con- 
 cerned, and very much of the deeply human at 
 which the majority of authors shake their heads. 
 This is not to say that Pinski's work lacks heroic 
 figures; on the contrary, in a measure it consti- 
 tutes a series of noble and ennobling portraits, 
 representing men and women who meet life face 
 to face and are scorched by its flames. So, too, 
 there are less inspiring personages who compro- 
 mise with life and their better selves. And in 
 the background lurks our common humanity, 
 faintly quick with the potentiahties of ignominy 
 or greatness. 
 
 Despite his growing fame as one of the most 
 significant dramatists now active, PinskI began 
 his career as a writer of short stories. He has 
 been recognised as the first Yiddish author to 
 give artistic treatment to the Yiddish prole- 
 tariat, and no small part of his life has been 
 sacrificed to the cause of the oppressed and the 
 disinherited. His earlier works, both in fiction 
 and in the drama, were devoted to the depiction 
 of life among the lowly, and it is characteristic
 
 INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 of the man that he does not allow his personal 
 views to mar his artistic product. 
 
 It may be said that three chief periods have 
 thus far appeared in the labours of the Yiddish 
 author. First there is his proletarian "manner" 
 in which the life, problems and aspirations of 
 the Jewish workingman are portrayed in such 
 masterly dramas as "Isaac Sheftel" (written at 
 the age of twenty-seven) and such incisive com- 
 mentaries as the best of the early tales, "Drab- 
 kin." Then there is the genre of the biblical re- 
 construction, in which ancient themes are util- 
 ised for the purpose of producing thoroughly 
 contemporary works of art. Among his plays 
 "The Dumb Messiah" and "Mary Magdalen" 
 represent this phase of his skill, while among 
 the stories, "Zerubbabel" and "Beruriah" 
 would come under this category. 
 
 There is also the treatment of sex problems, 
 as evidenced by such plays as "Jacob the Black- 
 smith" and "Gabri and the Women," and tales 
 like "The Awakening" and "The Black Cat."
 
 X INTRODUCTION 
 
 I must confess that I am not greatly con- 
 cerned with the periods and "manners" of au- 
 thors; classification has little to do with genuine 
 literary appreciation. This is all the more true 
 in a case like Pinskl's, since the various phases 
 of his work follow no chronological order, and 
 often appear side by side, as it were, in the same 
 work. Take for instance the first tale in this 
 book, "Beruriah," which I consider one of the 
 greatest short stories ever written, insofar as 
 the wide reading of a single person in some half 
 dozen or more languages can substantiate such a 
 statement. Who shall say that the tale is mere 
 reconstruction or elaboration of a Talmudic 
 legend, or a problem In love, or a psychological 
 study, or even a symbolic story? It Is all of 
 these, and something more. Who shall say that 
 "Drabkin" Is merely a proletarian narrative? 
 To be sure, the background is furnished by the 
 humble Jewish operatives, but is the tale itself 
 any the less universal on that account? Is it any 
 the less a problem in love? Is it any the less a 
 satire upon human foibles, with the same essen-
 
 INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 tial theme as Pinskl's remarkable work of 
 genius, "The Treasure,"— one of the outstand- 
 ing dramas of the century? 
 
 The truth is that Pinski harmonises and ren- 
 ders universal almost everything he touches. 
 From an insignificant three or four line sugges- 
 tion in the Talmud he elaborates a "Beruriah," 
 producing one of the most striking female por- 
 traits that has come from an author peculiarly 
 rich in well-drawn women. Out of various 
 strands from Jewish history he weaves a 
 "Zerubbabel," which flames with a Jewish pa- 
 triotism particularly contemporary in applica- 
 tion. Nor is this intense devotion any more ex- 
 clusively Jewish than the crumbling of world- 
 philosophies depicted in the epic play, "The 
 
 Last Jew." 
 
 This human and universal touch is rendered 
 all the more evident by the author's attitude, 
 both in life and in the stories that are the prod- 
 uct of his actual experience, toward the op- 
 pressed and the disinherited whose champion he 
 is. With him the independence of the writer is
 
 xii INTRODUCTION 
 
 almost a religion; so much so that he is just as 
 ready to voice fearlessly the faults of his own 
 people as he is to glorify their historic and 
 racial virtues. He reveals them to themselves, 
 and Is as little compromising with them as with 
 any other. If he knows their nobility, he knows, 
 too, their pettiness; he sees them in their chmb 
 up Mount Sinai to talk with the Lord, and in 
 their grovelling over the heaps of mire called 
 money-making. 
 
 Yet It Is no part of his art or his purpose to 
 sit In judgment. Indeed, one of the noblest 
 notes arising from the author's work as a whole 
 Is the spirit of "Judge not." This human note 
 rings from "Mary Magdalene" (an entirely 
 original treatment of the fecund theme, supe- 
 rior, In my opinion, to both Paul Heyse's and 
 Maurice Maeterlinck's plays upon the same sub- 
 ject) as from the excellent tales "The Tempta- 
 tion of Rabbi Akiba" and "High Priest Jo- 
 hanan." He who beholds in such stories as 
 these only a biblical or religious strain, misses 
 more than half of their beauty. Rabbi Akiba
 
 INTRODUCTION xiii 
 
 and High Priest Johanan are not spirits of an 
 ancient age, individuals of a departed civilisa- 
 tion. Far from it. They are you and I. 
 "Beruriah" is by no means the virtuous wife of 
 an overwrought Rabbi. She is an eternal type; 
 she can be found In the Talmud, in the Icelandic 
 sagas, in a play by Ibsen, in a novel by Hardy; 
 she is Antigone, she is Candida; she is the soul 
 of woman clothed in tragic beauty. 
 
 Pinski's tales, then, of which the following 
 comprise the first series, demand universal ap- 
 preciation but little less than his dramas. 
 Theirs is that rare beauty which is an indis- 
 soluble union of manner and matter. In the 
 original, they represent the mo9t melodious 
 Yiddish that has been written, — a powerful ref- 
 utation of the unthinking scorn of those who 
 refer to the tongue as a jargon. They are for 
 men and women who read with the mind as well 
 as the eye. 
 
 Isaac Goldberg. 
 
 Roxbury, Mass. 
 
 March, 19 19.
 
 BERURIAH
 
 DEDICATED 
 
 TO THE EVERLASTING MEMORY OF 
 MY BELOVED LITTLE SON 
 
 GABRI 
 
 (Born March ii, 1909; Died August 14, 1916) 
 
 This tale, which I began forty-two hours before 
 his death, in the happy certainty that his slight 
 illness would quickly pass, and without the 
 slightest presentiment that I and his wonderful 
 mother would scon have to seek consolation in it. 
 
 The Author
 
 BERURIAH 
 
 BLESSED with all the virtues was Beru- 
 riah, wife of the noted Master, Rabbi 
 Mayer. It was at the time that God's heart 
 was filled with pity for the Jewish people, which 
 had just lost its independence and its freedom, 
 and from under His heavenly throne He sum- 
 moned her soul, and sent her down to earth. 
 "Go, and rejoice the hearts of the wretched 
 and exiled. Go, and bring gladness to the sad 
 and mournful. Let him that beholds you know 
 that life is worth the living, and understand 
 that he has an Almighty Lord who can create 
 glory, and let him praise and bless my Name." 
 And therefore was she called Beruriah, — 
 the chosen of God. The Romans, however, 
 
 called her Valeria, — the blessed one. 
 
 3
 
 4 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 So beautiful she was, that at the most glo« 
 rious sunset, the eyes of the worshipful onlook- 
 ers wandered from the sun to her and from her 
 to the sun, and none could be sure which was 
 the greater beauty or which the greater miracle. 
 But at the consecration of the moon she dare 
 not show herself upon the street, lest the moon 
 take flight before the greater beauty, and pious 
 Jews be helpless quite to bless It. Whenever 
 she walked along the way, all passers-by stood 
 still, lest they fall Into a ditch at their feet or 
 stumble across a rock In their path, for all 
 eyes were turned only upon her. And those who 
 tolled heavily were wont to say, when they had 
 beheld her, "The sight was even as balm to 
 our weary limbs. Now will our labours once 
 again seem light." And those who sat within 
 doors also said, "Was not our house just ra- 
 diant with a loving glow? Beruriah must have 
 passed beneath our window." And then the 
 sages introduced a new blessing, with which 
 Jews should hymn the praises of the Lord for 
 having shared His beauty with a mortal.
 
 BERURIAH 5 
 
 Wise was she, too; so that the old men of 
 her time queried, "Shall we not don women's 
 garb and surrender our men's habits to her? 
 For before her we are like old women in whom 
 the little sense they had has long evaporated, 
 while she possesses the wisdom of all our years 
 added together." And when a husband scolded 
 his wife, saying that women had much hair but 
 little brains, the wife would retort: "And what 
 of Beruriah?" Then the husband would see 
 that he had been hasty, and that his own wife 
 was more clever than he, since she had so 
 cunningly reminded him of Beruriah. Where- 
 upon the sages introduced a new blessing, with 
 which Jews should chant the praises of the 
 Lord for having shared His wisdom with a 
 mortal. 
 
 But Beruriah was deeply learned, too. In 
 the written lore of the Holy Law she was as 
 sure as if she trod upon a beaten path, and the 
 oral commentaries reposed within her as se- 
 curely as sacred books within their closet. 
 Great keenness of intellect in her was merged
 
 6 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 with clear simplicity, and the Torah is a field 
 that may be worked with these tools alone. 
 Many a tangle did Beruriah unravel, and many 
 an obscure spot did she illuminate. Her word 
 and her interpretations were esteemed as highly 
 as those of her own husband, the renowned 
 Talmudist Rabbi Mayer. But of this same 
 Rabbi Mayer, who was the greatest of his 
 epoch, and who was so subtle that he could 
 demonstrate the purity of a reptile in one hun- 
 dred and fifty different ways, it was said: 
 "Small wonder that he knows so much and that 
 he is so acute. For Beruriah is his wifel" 
 
 Rabbi Mayer, however, heeded the words 
 but little, and felt no affront, for he was very 
 proud of her and loved her boundlessly. And 
 every day he would utter in his prayers, "A 
 wondrous jewel hast Thou created, and of all 
 Thy servants. Thou hast chosen me to be illu- 
 minated by its brilliancy. How shall I thank 
 Thee, God?"
 
 BERURIAH 7 
 
 II 
 
 And Rabble Mayer's students said, "Beru- 
 riah has been blessed with all the virtues, 
 and she is to Rabbi Mayer a wondrous jewel 
 with which God has chosen to glorify our mas- 
 ter; yet is not her heart but the weak heart of a 
 woman? And even as the flashes of the jewel, 
 do not human passions play and contend within 
 her? Who can assure us that her ears are 
 sealed against the seductive speeches that fall 
 upon her like glowing sparks and melt her heart 
 like wax? Blessed, too, with all the virtues was 
 Mother Eve, of whom all later generations of 
 women are but a reflection, and yet her ears 
 were open to the serpent. And where Eve suc- 
 cumbed, surely Beruriah will not be able to 
 resist." 
 
 Thus spoke Rabbi Mayer's pupils among 
 themselves, until at last it came to the ears of 
 the great Teacher. At first he was deeply In- 
 censed and his anger boiled like the seething 
 waters of a fiery cauldron. He wished to con-
 
 8 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 front his disciples in all his fury and drive them 
 forth. How dare they question her virtue 
 and her purity, — her will of steel against all 
 tempting tongues! Was not Beruriah a holi- 
 day-child of God's, and did not he who insulted 
 her desecrate the holy day, — was he not a sin- 
 ner unworthy of sitting before Rabbi Mayer, 
 hearing him expound the Torah? 
 
 But he who could demonstrate the purity of 
 a reptile In one hundred and fifty different ways, 
 soon changed his course of thought. Were he 
 to drive forth his disciples for the doubt they 
 had uttered regarding Beruriah, they would 
 take leave and declare, "Had we been wrong in 
 our doubts Rabbi Mayer would have laughed 
 us to scorn, and would soon have forgotten our 
 words. But because they are well-founded he 
 flew at once into a rage and cast us forth from 
 him." 
 
 His seething anger became now an immense 
 scorn, but his sharp mind kept thinking further : 
 Wicked Is man's tongue and low the doubts of 
 his heart. To prove the purity of a reptile one
 
 BERURIAH 9 
 
 must be a Rabbi Mayer, but to render a Beru- 
 rlah impure, one need be merely a reptile. They 
 would not cease talking until the day on which 
 she died, and when her glorious soul would de- 
 part from her glorious body, unsullied and pure 
 of sin, they would say, "She died pure, because 
 no serpent tested her, — because the Lord never 
 tried her with temptations." And they would 
 speak even more: "God tries the strong alone; 
 and knowing how weak was Beruriah's heart 
 against the tempter, He did not try her and 
 shielded her from seduction." 
 
 At this thought an oppressive weakness over- 
 powered his entire body, and his high forehead 
 was bedewed with sweat. What was he to do 
 to keep the venomous tongues from stinging 
 Beruriah? How was he to act so that every 
 thought of her should be as pure as her own 
 heart? 
 
 His deep wisdom pondered, and soon whis- 
 pered a reply: "Let them test her I" 
 
 A shudder rippled through him, and it was 
 as if he must feel shame before the four walls
 
 lo TEMPTATIONS 
 
 in whose shelter he had dared to think such 
 thoughts. Yet he could not free himself from 
 that one suggestion; it was the one way out. 
 Through such a test of Beruriah all evil mouths 
 would be stopped forever, and all would see 
 that his wife Beruriah had a heart as pure as 
 her spirit, — that her virtue was as great as her 
 beauty, — that her fidelity to him was as great 
 as her wisdom. And then indeed would they 
 behold how great was God's grace to their 
 generation, in which Beruriah lived, — and how 
 great was he himself in the eyes of the Lord 
 that he should have been given her for a wife. 
 And Rabbi Mayer pondered for one day, and 
 two, and three. He lost all desire for food, 
 and sleep forsook him. Ideas multiplied within 
 him with the rapidity of lightning; one thought 
 generated another, supported It, refuted it. 
 Mountains and mountains of thoughts, — deep, 
 keen, far-reaching. And among them were 
 thoughts that shamed him in his own eyes, — 
 that stirred his unrest and kindled a wrath 
 against his very self. How did they ever come
 
 BERURIAH 1 1 
 
 to him? These doubts, — how could they ever 
 have entered his soul? How could he, — he, of 
 all men, who knew her heart so well and to 
 whom her thoughts were as an open book? 
 Had she not shown enough how pious and 
 strong she was, at the death of her two chil- 
 dren? Had not all the world then seen that his 
 Beruriah was unparalleled? 
 
 But the pious Master who had compared the 
 power of Satan with the power of the Lord, 
 and had issued a thousand admonitions against 
 the Evil One, tremblingly sought protection for 
 him and his one fear of the Evil Spirit. And 
 in shame, with quivering lips, he whispered, 
 "Forgive me, Beruriah, my holy one. But let 
 them now subject you to the test!" 
 
 Ill 
 
 Whereupon Rabbi Mayer assembled all his 
 students, and spoke to them. 
 
 "Your words about my wife Beruriah have 
 reached me, and your doubts concerning her 
 have come to my ears. When one feels doubt
 
 12 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 about his companion groundlessly, what is that 
 companion to do? Shall he not come and say, 
 'What is the ground for your suspicion, and 
 how have I called forth your misgivings?' And 
 shall he not say, Tou are a wicked comrade, 
 else should you have raised no doubts against 
 me, since there Is no foundation for them.' 
 Shall I not tell you all that you are evil minds, 
 unworthy of sitting before me, since your own 
 thoughts are base and you yourselves are a toy 
 in the hands of seduction? Wherefore you 
 doubt, too, the purity of my wife Beruriah? 
 Would I not be right to dismiss you all from 
 me, damming the stream of my learning against 
 
 you?" 
 
 A terror descended upon the disciples and 
 they were tossed in deep disquietude. Those 
 among them who, more than the others, had 
 uttered the doubts and spread them, sat rooted, 
 with downcast eyes, abashed and crestfallen. 
 But those who had simply listened to the doubts, 
 without repeating them, looked about in fear 
 and consternation, as if seeking the guilty. And
 
 BERURIAH 13 
 
 one arose, saying, "Rabbi, surely you will not 
 punish those who listened, even as those who 
 uttered?" 
 
 Rabbi Mayer replied, "The same penalty for 
 those who listened as for those who spoke. For 
 not alone is the mouse the thief, but the hole 
 also." 
 
 Whereupon the disciples began to murmur, 
 softly and sheepishly, "But we doubt no 
 longer." 
 
 Rabbi Mayer laughed. 
 
 "Wise pupils have I in you, and to think that 
 you will spread the Law through Israel! Such 
 as you will prove a reptile pure in only one way: 
 when it will profit you." 
 
 The disciples were now dejected more than 
 ever. And Rabbi Mayer spoke again to them, 
 as was his practice, through a parable. 
 
 "A fox met a hen, and said to her, 'I have 
 heard that you doubt my being the most virtu- 
 ous of creatures. For that I will straightway 
 devour you.' The hen was seized with fear 
 and cried, entreatingly, *I do not doubt it, and
 
 14 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 If I ever did, I will never doubt it again.' And 
 the fox, who was In a pleasant humour because 
 his stomach was full, spoke again to her : 'This 
 time I let you free. But remember, should 
 you ever in future express the slightest doubt, 
 you will be as good as dead.' Whereupon the 
 hen took oath that never should she express the 
 slightest doubt. But when the fox had released 
 her and gone on his way, she snuggled her head 
 in between her wings and furtively thought to 
 herself that there was none so wicked as the 
 fox." 
 
 And now Rabbi Mayer raised his voice and 
 said, "No, not with Intimidation would I banish 
 the doubts you feel concerning my wife Beru- 
 rlah. For after all, you will take refuge deep 
 In your hearts, and admonish your thoughts 
 never to dare rise to your lips. You will tell 
 yourselves that you are right, but that because 
 you did not wish to lose me, you pretended to be 
 convinced. I wish, however, that all doubts 
 truly cease, — that they be driven from your 
 hearts and that your souls be cleansed of them."
 
 BERURIAH 15 
 
 The disciples sat still, as if considering how 
 this might come to pass, and one among them 
 who was not over careful, blurted out, "If you 
 will cease to doubt, so will we, too." 
 
 At first Rabbi Mayer's face grew fiery red, 
 but he uttered not a word, as if to refrain from 
 speaking in great anger. Then his countenance 
 turned ghastly pale, sunken and wan from surg- 
 ing, volcanic wrath. Then he spoke : 
 
 "Woe unto him whose thoughts are those of 
 a fool, but greater woe still if he master not 
 his lips. Did you then doubt, at first, because 
 / doubted? Who of you will dare to rise and 
 say that Rabbi Mayer doubted his wife Beru- 
 riah? But those doubts which you could not 
 conceal within yourselves, and had to drool out 
 and pour Into others' ears, even as venomous 
 snakes, have become like the source of a plague, 
 spreading pestilence to right and to left, near 
 and afar. Even I have caught the contagion of 
 your doubt, and, as you speak, so speak I now 
 myself. 'Perhaps Beruriah is true to me be- 
 cause no tempter ever sought her ear.* "
 
 i6 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 Those of the disciples who had been first to 
 sow the seed of doubt wished to lift their heads 
 in triumph, but they refrained, content to smile 
 within their hearts, and barely able to keep 
 the smile from prancing to their lips. But the 
 wise Rabbi Mayer had noticed the spark of 
 triumph that had flashed in their eyes, and 
 thundered forth in tones that scattered terror: 
 
 "Never have I entertained doubt of my wife 
 Beruriah. Nor has the shghtest suspicion as- 
 sailed me as to the purity of her heart. But 
 your evil venom has corroded my being, and 
 the stench of your words has grown foul 
 thoughts within me. Now I tell myself, 'The 
 apple is wondrous fair, but who can say what 
 passes in its heart?' This have you wrought 
 with the poison of your doubts: that Rabbi 
 Mayer should feel uncertainty as to the virtue 
 of Beruriah, his wife. Shall I not drive you 
 from me with rods and curses? But no. I 
 have determined otherwise. What does one do 
 to learn whether the beautiful apple be sound at 
 the core? He cuts it open. I, too, will cut 

 
 BERURIAH 17 
 
 open, will peer into, Beruriah's heart; I will 
 test her soul. And hear, now, what I have re- 
 solved upon: For thirty days I will not appear 
 to her in Tiberias, — and thirty days, I believe, 
 will be enough to test the power of a woman's 
 virtue, when her husband is absent from her. 
 And you — choose from among you one who 
 shall take it upon himself to be her tempter — ." 
 
 IV 
 
 More than one heart quaked as Rabbi 
 Mayer uttered these words. The possible 
 companionship with the wonderful Beruriah 
 coursed like a hot stream from head to 
 foot in many a student. But strongest of all 
 beat the heart of handsome Simeon, son of 
 Rabbi Ismael, and he had to close his eyes be- 
 cause of the flood of passion that inundated 
 him. 
 
 Most handsome of all the disciples was Sim- 
 eon, son of Rabbi Ismael. Once a Roman 
 matron had beheld him, and it seemed to her as 
 if Adonis,, the Greek god of strength and youth
 
 i8 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 and beauty, had turned Jew and given himself 
 up to the study of the fathomless Torah. And 
 she called him "the Adonis who turned Jew." 
 He was tall, slender and agile; the hair of his 
 head and of his small beard was reddish; his 
 eyes were of a colour that changed with the time 
 of day and the temper of his moods, and none 
 could withstand his glance. Out of piety he 
 would shut his eyes on passing a woman, lest 
 unholy thoughts be born in a Jewish daughter's 
 bosom. But once, on passing Beruriah, he had 
 not shut his eyes, and instead of igniting an- 
 other, he was himself set on fire, and on his eyes 
 was impressed her image, inextinguishably, even 
 as a seal impresses the burning wax. From that 
 time he saw only her before him; she was his 
 dream by night, his thought by day, nor did his 
 holy studies avail him aught. His striking mas- 
 culine beauty had found its mate in Beruriah, 
 and he hungered after her as for something that 
 had always belonged to him, — something that 
 ever had been destined for him. He had been 
 pious all his years, had known most ardent pray-
 
 BERURIAH 19 
 
 ers and tormenting fasts, bodily tortures and 
 cleansing of the soul. But now his prayers no 
 longer were horror of sin, but plaints and griev- 
 ances. It was as though the Lord withheld what 
 was justly Simeon's; as if God had taken away 
 his rightful property, and his alone. And why 
 had God placed Beruriah in his path? Why had 
 the Lord not closed his eyes at their meeting? 
 And in his restless, often feverish thoughts he 
 showed God how he, Simeon, might come to 
 her who was destined to be his. Rabbi Mayer 
 might die, and he would inherit Beruriah; or if 
 God did not wish the death of the holy man, 
 Beruriah could forsake her learned husband, 
 — divorce him and fly to the arms of her twin 
 in beauty. Could not almighty God bring this 
 to pass? 
 
 And now that Rabbi Mayer had announced 
 his resolution, it was as if God had answered 
 Simeon's prayers, knowing that he would be 
 the one to execute the purpose of the Rabbi, 
 which was in reality the hidden purpose of the 
 Almighty. And Rabbi Mayer, after uttering
 
 20 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 his plan, turned his glance to Simeon, son of 
 Rabbi Ismael, as if Simeon were he upon whom 
 had fallen the dangerous embassy. But the 
 sage said nothing to indicate any choice on his 
 part. He departed from the Yeshiva at once, 
 leaving the disciples alone to choose the tempter 
 from their number. 
 
 And although many eyes sought out Simeon, 
 son of Rabbi Ismael, his selection was In no 
 wise unanimous. For several others wished to 
 assume the mission, and these were the students 
 who had most openly expressed their doubts as 
 to Berurlah's constancy. 
 
 And one of them spoke : 
 
 "In order to seduce Beruriah one need 
 not be the most handsome, but the most subtle. 
 One can steal Into her heart, not through her 
 eyes, but through her ears. Her eyes she can 
 close before the most beautiful picture, but 
 there is naught that can seal her ears against 
 subtle speech. The beautiful picture that 
 meets her gaze will vanish the moment 
 she turns her head, but the guileful word will
 
 BERURIAH 21 
 
 remain in her heart, and delve and burrow. 
 Remember, that even our mother Eve was con- 
 quered by wily words from the subtle serpent's 
 mouth. As the Bible says, 'Now the serpent 
 was more subtle than any beast of the field.' 
 And if Beruriah withstand the subtle word, 
 then is her virtue beyond uncertainty." 
 
 And he spoke in such a way that all might see 
 he was most subtle and should be their choice. 
 
 But a second arose and spoke: 
 
 "In order to win Beruriah one need be 
 neither the handsomest nor the most subtle, 
 but the strongest. For what is the beauty of 
 our most beautiful against her beauty? And 
 what is the guile of our most subtle against her 
 subtlety? Our handsomest will quail before 
 her, asking, 'Why am I so ugly?' And our 
 cleverest will confront her like a helpless simple- 
 ton. But the presence of a powerful man will 
 descend upon her senses like a cloud; the breath 
 of immense masculine power will penetrate her 
 like wine and intoxicate her. To make a woman 
 bite into a forbidden apple, it takes a wily ser-
 
 22 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 pent; but to make a woman lust for a man 
 other than her husband, it requires one whose 
 strength will work upon her like the pressure of 
 two mill-stones. And if Beruriah withstand 
 great masculine strength, then is her virtue be- 
 yond uncertainty." 
 
 And he spoke in such a way that all might see 
 he was the strongest and should be their choice. 
 
 But a third arose and spoke: 
 
 "In order to gain Beruriah, one need not be 
 the handsomest, the wiliest or the strongest, 
 but the most learned. For if our fellow-student 
 is right in all he says as to the wisest and the 
 wiliest then must he surely recognise that 
 not even masculine strength will touch Beru- 
 riah's soul. For she will tell herself, *An un- 
 tamed bull is stronger; and what man is more 
 powerful than a lion? Shall I then languish 
 with desire for the wild bull, the lion, and the 
 elephant?' But the most learned of us will 
 know how to call forth her admiration, and will 
 win her heart through his skill in holy lore. 
 And if her husband, our master Rabbi Mayer,
 
 BERURIAH 23 
 
 can demonstrate the purity of a reptile in one 
 hundred and fifty different ways, then her 
 seducer will have to be able, in twice one- 
 hundred and fifty ways, to prove that Reuben 
 did not sin with Bilhah, the wife of his father 
 Jacob, — that King David did not sin with Bath- 
 sheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite, and that 
 Beruriah's sin against her husband will likewise 
 be no sin. And if Beruriah withstand the great 
 interpretative power of our most learned asso- 
 ciate, then is her virtue beyond uncertainty." 
 And he spoke in such a way that all might 
 see he was most learned and should be their 
 choice. 
 
 Whereupon a fourth arose and spoke : 
 "In order to triumph over Beruriah, one need 
 be neither the handsomest nor the wiliest, nor 
 yet the strongest or the most learned. For the 
 sum of his learning will be as naught against 
 her own, and who dare assure us that he will 
 not be left sitting before her like a pupil before 
 a master? And will she not say that in our 
 Yeshiva we study Torah only to make that
 
 24 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 which is sinful appear pure? Therefore I say 
 to you that in order to triumph over Beiuriah 
 one must be the most illustrious. And who is 
 most illustrious if not he who can add to his per- 
 sonal gifts and to his own good name the pedi- 
 gree of his noted family? Our master, Rabbi 
 Mayer, Beruriah's husband, is endowed with 
 many virtues. But he springs from lowly, con- 
 vert stock, and his origin is but an impure 
 source. How Beruriah's heart will melt with 
 consuming desire when she feels the presence 
 of one whose ancestry dates back to the kings 
 of the House of David! And only after she 
 has withstood the fascination of a genuine des- 
 cendant from such illustrious forebears will her 
 virtue have been proved beyond all doubt." 
 
 That by these words he meant to indicate 
 himself there was not the slightest question, for 
 he was one who claimed to be descended from 
 the kings of the House of David, and flaunted 
 his ancestry as a peacock displays its tail. 
 
 And now there arose one whom all viewed in 
 the greatest astonishment, their eyes distended
 
 BERURIAH 25 
 
 and their mouths agape, for none could believe 
 that he, too, would rise to speak. And he said: 
 
 "In order to seduce Beruriah, one must be 
 the unhappiest of men." 
 
 And because the intense stupefaction with 
 which his rising had been greeted dissolved now 
 into uproarious laughter, he continued with 
 louder voice and vehement gestures : 
 
 "Yes, the most unhappy and most wretched! 
 You will succeed in approaching Beruriah's 
 heart only through compassion. I need only 
 relate to her, with tears in my voice and suffer- 
 ing in my eyes, how the words 'father, mother' 
 were never uttered by my lips because my father 
 died before I was born, and my mother died 
 giving birth to me, — how I do not even know 
 who brought me up, because I passed from hand 
 to hand, one stumbling across me on the thresh- 
 old of his home, another coming upon me be- 
 fore his door, in the darkness of black night. 
 By day the sun scorched me, and by night the 
 cold pierced my flesh, and I stilled my hunger 
 with my cries. In all the world not one soul
 
 26 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 could be found who would adopt me as a son; 
 they saw in me an evil visitation and only fear 
 of God and His commandments held them back 
 from putting me to death. And thus I grew 
 up in hunger, necessity, and misery, without 
 caresses, without a kiss, without a kind word, 
 without a tender glance, without the slightest 
 token of love, yet with a burning desire for 
 affection and endearments. And I tell you that 
 if Beruriah does not burst into flames of sinful 
 lust out of compassion for me, then is her virtue 
 indeed beyond uncertainty." 
 
 And because his words created a sensation, 
 he was sure that he would be the chosen one. 
 
 But now the first to speak began anew, and 
 after him the second, and then the third, and 
 following them the fourth one and the fifth. 
 And then all at the same time. Each tried to 
 drown out the voices of the rest, to annihilate 
 the others. And still others intruded into the 
 discussion, until the Yeshiva resounded with 
 such a tumult as rises from a crowded market- 
 place on a busy day.
 
 BERURIAH 27 
 
 Simeon, son of Rabbi Ismael, alone was 
 silent. He was certain that he would be the 
 chosen one, for thus had Rabbi Mayer spoken 
 with his glance, and such was the will of God. 
 And again, because Simeon, in addition to his 
 great beauty, possessed the other qualities 
 necessary to win Beruriah. For he felt that he 
 was also the most unhappy. Who, indeed, could 
 be more unhappy than he, whom God had been 
 so unkind as to deprive of what should have 
 been his, afterwards revealing to him what he 
 had lost and filling his heart with hopelessness 
 and grief? And let but the time arrive when he 
 could tell Beruriah the tale of all his woes, — 
 the trials that he had undergone for her, — then 
 would she be overcome by pity, and in her heart 
 compassion would pave the way for future love. 
 
 And Simeon smiled amidst the wordy din, 
 and spoke no word. When, for a moment, the 
 arguments subsided, again a host of eyes was 
 turned to his. And they recalled that Rabbi 
 Mayer's glance had really singled him out, and 
 suddenly realised that no fitter messenger than
 
 28 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 Simeon could be sent. And if Beruriah could 
 withstand the fascination of the Adonis who 
 had turned Jew, then was her virtue indeed be- 
 yond uncertainty. 
 
 And now from various sides the cry arose, 
 "Let Simeon go! The handsome Simeon! 
 The beautiful son of Rabbi Ismael!" 
 
 Thus was Simeon, the son of Rabbi Ismael, 
 chosen to be the touchstone which should test 
 the constancy and purity of the heart of Beru- 
 riah, wife of the Master, Rabbi Mayer. 
 
 V 
 
 He came to her with a letter from her hus- 
 band, and the letter read, very simply: "The 
 bearer, one of my students, will explain every- 
 thing." 
 
 He found her in the garden before her house, 
 alone with her thoughts, and she said, some- 
 what disturbed by a presentiment of evil ti- 
 dings, "Pardon my not inviting you into my 
 home to offer you refreshment and rest, for 
 I am very anxious and impatient."
 
 BERURIAH 29 
 
 Simeon paused a moment to catch his breath 
 and gain sufficient time thus to recall what had 
 been planned and conspired in the Yeshiva, that 
 the tale he bore should carry confidence and 
 sound as if it were the very truth. Beruriah 
 might be struck by a suspicion of intrigue and 
 bring the plan to naught. Then he began, with 
 a soft, flattering, reassuring voice, glancing 
 downwards, as became a pious student of the 
 Torah, a disciple of the pious Rabbi Mayer. 
 
 "Evil decrees are hatching against the Jews. 
 The times of Emperor Hadrian threaten to re- 
 turn. Circumcision may be forbidden, and 
 keeping the Sabbath. The study of the Torah 
 may be proscribed." 
 
 Beruriah's answer echoed with deep pain: 
 "The rumour aspires to evil reality." 
 
 "Agents have been sent out to seize the Ye- 
 shiva heads. Rabbi Mayer, Rabbi Simeon, son 
 of luhai and Rabbi Judah, son of Ileal. The 
 authorities wish to cut off the heads, thus de- 
 stroying the body."
 
 30 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 Beruriah, pale and trembling, cried in fright, 
 "Have the Rabbis been caught?" 
 
 "No. The agents have not yet appeared. 
 Perhaps the rumour concerning them is false, 
 and they will never come. But already Rabbi 
 Simeon, son of luhai, has gone into hiding and 
 Rabbi Judah has closed his Academy and dis- 
 missed his students until the storm rolls by. 
 Rabbi Mayer alone refuses to retreat from the 
 spot where God has placed him and has de- 
 vised a plan to outwit the authorities." 
 
 Beruriah, who had closed her eyes and raised 
 her head to heaven, her heart filled with thanks 
 that her husband was not so timorous as the 
 others, now opened her eyes wide, piercing 
 Simeon with their glance and awaiting with in- 
 tense curiosity the details of Rabbi Mayer's 
 plan. 
 
 Simeon recounted the project In a calm voice, 
 with all the self-assurance of speaking the truth, 
 yet with a certain wariness and fear of the In- 
 quiring look In her keen eyes. 
 
 "One of his students Is to go to Rabbi
 
 BERURIAH 31 
 
 Mayer's home in Tiberias and live there near 
 Beruriah, his wife. And when the agents come 
 for Rabbi Mayer, his students are to declare 
 that for a long time they have been wandering 
 about like sheep without a shepherd, because 
 Rabbi Mayer has forsaken them, and may be 
 found at Tiberias, at home with Beruriah, his 
 wife. When the pursuers come to Rabbi May- 
 er's home, they will find his scholar, whom they 
 will naturally take for Rabbi Mayer, since he 
 dwells under the same roof as Beruriah. Thus 
 Rabbi Mayer will be able to continue expound- 
 ing the Holy Law to his students, which is so 
 necessary to the existence of the Jewish people, 
 especially in times of sorrow." 
 
 Beruriah was disillusioned. Her heart was 
 not in the plan. There was so much about it 
 that was strange and suspicious. She thought 
 for a moment, seeking some objection, and 
 finally asked, "Suppose the agents know Rabbi 
 Mayer?" 
 
 But the reply to this objection had been pre-
 
 32 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 pared beforehand, and Simeon made answer In 
 reassuring tones. 
 
 "Did you not hear me say 'his students are 
 to declare' ? If the agents come to the Academy 
 they win not find Rabbi Mayer, for a hiding- 
 place has already been secured, and guards will 
 be on the lookout. And should the agents come 
 here and recognise that I am not Rabbi Mayer, 
 you can misdirect their steps and Rabbi Mayer 
 will meanwhile seek new deliverance. But con- 
 sider, If they do not know him, and If they take 
 me for Rabbi Mayer?" 
 
 And Simeon drew himself to his full height, 
 raising his head and showing her his eyes, which 
 were deep brown In the glow of the setting sun 
 that shone through the tall, green trees. 
 
 Berurlah thought, "It would be small won- 
 der If the agents did take this man to be Rabbi 
 Mayer." Yet this made her heart no lighter, 
 and she asked, with quivering spirit, "How 
 long win this have to endure?" 
 
 The answer to this was ready in advance. 
 
 Thirty days. If, at the end of thirty days
 
 BERURIAH 33 
 
 the agents should not appear, then the rumour 
 concerning them had been unfounded. 
 
 Simeon was waxing jubilant. The plan had 
 so far easily succeeded and been accepted, and 
 now his thirty days were to begin, — destined to 
 be the richest, happiest days of all his life. 
 
 But Beruriah sighed heavily. Thirty days 
 of uncertainty and terror, of sorrow and 
 yearning. Then she asked, still sadder than 
 before, "Will Rabbi Mayer not come home at 
 all, in all the thirty days?" 
 
 Simeon, piously, almost with reproach, re- 
 plied, "Would you have him steal time from the 
 Holy Law and give it to you? It may be that 
 the days of our Academy are numbered, and 
 the days of the Torah in it." 
 
 Utterly downcast, she was barely able to 
 whisper, "Will Rabbi Mayer not even send a 
 messenger with news of himself?" 
 
 Simeon replied curtly, "Only in case Rabbi 
 Mayer should meet with misfortune may you 
 expect a messenger." 
 
 Sad and dissatisfied, she shook her head, ill
 
 34 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 content with the plan her husband had devised. 
 But she did not care to question further, and 
 recalled her duties as hostess. And thus she 
 took in under her roof him who had been sent 
 as the touchstone of her virtue, and gave him 
 the room of Rabbi Mayer her husband. If the 
 agents should come, there could be no doubt 
 that he was Rabbi Mayer, head of the Yeshiva, 
 who had left his Academy and his students and 
 was living a secluded life at home, in the com- 
 pany of his beautiful wife. 
 
 VI 
 
 Simeon entered into Rabbi Mayer's dwell- 
 ing, which was^ to be his own for all of 
 thirty days, and sat down to study. He knew 
 that his voice was sweet and clear, and very 
 masculine, so he began to read from the sacred 
 books aloud. And it seemed to him that were 
 he to draw aside the curtain which separated 
 Rabbi Mayer's study from the other rooms he 
 would discover Beruriah listening to his voice 
 as he read. He felt her presence, heard her
 
 BERURIAH 35 
 
 breathing, inhaled her perfume. But he rubbed 
 his forehead to banish these alien thoughts. He 
 desired to study zealously, that Beruriah might 
 detect nothing artificial in his actions, and yet 
 in such wise, too, that the Holy Law be not 
 affronted, and God cherish no anger against 
 him. 
 
 For the first three days they saw nothing of 
 each other. His food was brought to him by 
 the aged servant, and whenever he left his room 
 he would walk to the outside door with lowered 
 eyes, looking neither to right nor to left, as one 
 engrossed in deep and ponderous thoughts, 
 afraid to be disturbed. Only on the evening of 
 the fourth day did they meet, for it was the 
 Sabbath eve and he recited grace and sang holy 
 songs, blessing God for their food in a pious 
 voice that was at once inspired and inspiring. 
 And he knew that he was very beautiful, and 
 that the sight of him was as balm to the soul, 
 and that his voice was glorious, — a Sabbath-joy 
 to hear. He looked but rarely at Beruriah; 
 when, however, he raised his eyes to hers, she
 
 36 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 was pierced by a vague, deep glance, filled with 
 a manly power, yet very sad. And the colour 
 of his eyes was as deeply dark as night, within 
 them dancing the many hghts that shone in the 
 room and on the table, doing honour to the 
 Sabbath. 
 
 And at night, on his couch, he began to sing, 
 into the darkness of his room, various passages 
 from the Bible, which he knew by heart. 
 Among these were many of the most passionate 
 lines of the Song of Songs. He sang with re- 
 pressed tones, so that he disturb the sleep of 
 none, — yet his voice filled the entire dwelling 
 with sweet melancholy and deep unrest. 
 
 Beruriah lay yearning for Rabbi Mayer, her 
 husband. And because it is not permitted to 
 weep upon the Sabbath she banished from her 
 soul all grief and longing, repeating softly the 
 passages that reached her ear from Simeon, 
 telling herself he was a most remarkable per- 
 son, — this disciple of her husband, — and that 
 of a certainty he must be one of the most il- 
 lustrious of Rabbi Mayer's disciples, since he
 
 BERURIAH 37 
 
 had been chosen to impersonate his master. She 
 thought, "If every Jew, however lowly, has yet 
 within him a share of God above, how great 
 indeed must be the share of him who possesses 
 Torah and wisdom and beauty, a sweet voice 
 and utmost refinement?" 
 
 The next day they met again at the Sab- 
 bath table. He recited grace and sang his pious 
 songs, blessing the Lord for the food with ex- 
 alted. Sabbath voice, which quivered, however, 
 with a certain inquietude and sadness. Again 
 he looked but rarely at Beruriah, with his 
 vague, deep glance so full of manly power and 
 yet so spiritless. And the colour of his eyes 
 was a brilliant blue, even as the sky without, and 
 they were radiant with will indomitable and 
 pride of mastery. And at every glance of his 
 Beruriah trembled with an unpleasant feeling, 
 and she would think that it were better far If 
 Rabbi Mayer were sitting there with her. She 
 was happy that the Sabbath would soon be past, 
 and that for another week she would not meet
 
 38 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 Simeon, — this remarkable man who possessed 
 so great a share of God — 
 
 After the prayer that closed the Sabbath she 
 accompanied him to his room with a glance from 
 the corner of her eye, and it seemed to her 
 that she was being freed of care. But suddenly 
 he stopped upon the threshold, and turned to 
 her with exceeding tenderness. 
 
 "Forgive me the glances, my hostess, that I 
 cast upon you yester eve and to-day." 
 
 She answered sternly and indifferently: 
 
 "And were they glances such as call for 
 pardon?" 
 
 "Did you not feel them?" 
 
 "They did not offend me." 
 
 He stepped toward her. 
 
 "Oh, surely they did not offend you. How, 
 indeed, could they? But they should have 
 pained you." 
 
 "Pained me?" 
 
 She did not understand him. 
 
 "Your mother-heart." 
 
 He pronounced the words softly, with a sigh
 
 BERURIAH 39 
 
 and an abject countenance. Yet still she did not 
 understand. Could It be that he referred to 
 her two children, who had died on the same 
 day, — a Sabbath day? His looks were sad 
 Indeed, yet how could she behold In them grief 
 for her children or condolence with her? She 
 spoke once more, quite drily: 
 
 "Even now I do not understand you." 
 Then he told her the tale of a great misfor- 
 tune that had befallen a mother, and the even 
 greater heroism she had displayed. He spoke 
 with deep sorrow and emotion In his voice and 
 his eyes peered Into the distance as If they be- 
 held there a vision of a divine miracle. This 
 was her own grievous misfortune, — her own 
 heroism, but he told It as a tale that had once 
 occurred, — as a miracle that had once taken 
 place. 
 
 There was once a Jewish woman, the wife of 
 a renowned Talmudic sage, and she had two 
 sons of wondrous beauty. Little sons, yet al- 
 ready great hopes. Their father was gifted,
 
 40 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 yet it could easily be seen that they were still 
 more gifted. Whoever beheld them surren- 
 ered to their charm. The sight of them brought 
 joy to all hearts and caused warmth to surge 
 throughout one's being. And the mother was 
 at a loss for thanks to God for the precious 
 gifts that he had sent to her. When suddenly 
 a plague assailed the town in which she dwelt 
 and on a Sabbath day both her sons died while 
 their father was at a House of Study, reciting 
 the Holy Law before his fellow Jews. In 
 order not to spoil her husband's Sabbath when 
 he came home, she laid her two sons out in a 
 distant room, covering them with a black 
 shroud, and then sat down to await her hus- 
 band's coming, dressed in her Sabbath clothes 
 and on her face a Sabbath air. And when her 
 husband came he could not read from her bear- 
 ing that a thunderbolt had struck their home, 
 destroying its most treasured possessions. 
 
 Accustomed to see his children at the Sab- 
 bath table, he asked "Where are our sons?"
 
 BERURIAH 41 
 
 The first time she told him a lie and her voice 
 was calm and reassuring: 
 
 "Soldiers marched through the town with 
 drums and music, and the children were anxious 
 to see the gay parade. They begged so prettily 
 I could not say them nay, and let them go to- 
 gether with the old servant." 
 
 Her husband eyed her In astonishment. 
 
 "A children's disease Is epidemic here; the 
 angel of death lurks now In every street; and 
 you have let our sons trail after a procession?" 
 
 She lay her head against his bosom as if to 
 win his pardon, and said, "If God so wills It, 
 Death plucks his victims even in the greatest 
 seclusion." 
 
 The hours of the day passed and he asked 
 again, "Why have our little sons not yet re- 
 turned?" 
 
 And again she answered calmly, with re- 
 assurance, "The procession cannot be over yet; 
 or else, they have stopped somewhere to play." 
 
 And she asked him to forgive them for hav- 
 ing so childishly forgotten their home, and per-
 
 42 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 suaded him to harbour no uneasiness. Could 
 he not see that she was calm? 
 
 But when evening had fallen and time for the 
 closing prayer of Sabbath had come, he be- 
 came once more uneasy, and exclaimed, "I do 
 not understand you. How can you be so calm? 
 It is already so dark, and still our sons are not 
 here." 
 
 And again she answered serenely and sooth- 
 ingly : 
 
 "I am at ease because I know that God is 
 with them on all their ways." 
 
 Now he was ashamed to feel uneasiness, and 
 recited the closing prayers. When he had fin- 
 ished, she turned to him quietly: 
 
 "I have a question to propound to you, my 
 husband. Some one has entrusted to my keep- 
 ing two jewels, with permission to use them and 
 take joy in them. And I have really used them 
 and taken in them much joy. They were my 
 adornment and my playthings, my infinite hap- 
 piness for many a year. Now the owner has
 
 BERURL\H 43 
 
 come and asks their return. Shall I give them 
 back or keep them for my own?" 
 
 In wonder, her husband looked at her and 
 replied, with astonishment, "You ask? And 
 can there be a question here? Be thankful to 
 him for the pleasure that he brought you with 
 these two jewels for so many years, and give 
 them back." 
 
 Whereupon she took him by the hand and 
 led him to the room where lay their sons, and 
 uncovered them. 
 
 "See, God gave us in trust two wondrous 
 jewels. To-day he came to us and asked them 
 back. Let us be grateful to Him for the joy 
 He has given. . . ." 
 
 Simeon could bear to speak no longer. His 
 emotions rose; his voice was choked with tears. 
 
 Beruriah, however, through all this time, had 
 not interrupted the telling of the tale. His 
 voice was so sweet, so touching, and had so 
 strangely reopened her old wound and renewed 
 her great grief. And she followed his every
 
 44 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 word and the great grief within her, farther 
 and farther, more engrossed, more intent than 
 ever. When, overcome by his own emotion, 
 he had interrupted his tale, she was very pale, 
 her eyes staring vaguely before her. In a voice 
 that came from a parched throat and dry lips, 
 she asked, "Why have you told me the tale of 
 my own misfortune? Why have you opened my 
 wound anew? Do you think, then, that I did 
 not love my sons? Do you imagine I have 
 forgotten them?" 
 
 Simeon made answer, "Forgive me if I have 
 hurt you. But ever since I heard from your 
 husband, Rabbi Mayer, the story of your won- 
 derful composure, I have longed to know 
 whence you received the courage ; and the over- 
 whelming strength, — how came it to you? And 
 as I sat before the Sabbath table yester eve 
 and to-day, my eyes sought the answer in your 
 mother-heart." 
 
 He looked at her, filled with pity, and after 
 a brief silence she said to him, "You forget that 
 I am the daughter of the martyr Hanino Tra-
 
 BERURIAH 45 
 
 dinus. When the Roman executioner was tor- 
 turing him in slow flames, he lay on his pyre 
 reciting from the Torah as if he felt no pain. 
 Do you really believe that he was free of pain? 
 Do you think that he did not feel the tongues 
 of fire ? But God was great and powerful with- 
 in him, and He is no less powerful in me." 
 
 Simeon closed his eyes, for a deep pang had 
 rent his heart; he kneeled and kissed the hem 
 of her garment. Beruriah reddened and whis- 
 pered, scarce audibly, "And I love my husband 
 passionately. It was for his consolation that I 
 found sufficient strength in me to restrain my 
 grief and not drown in my tears." 
 
 Simeon left the room without a word, like a 
 blind man groping his way, his heart a prey 
 to pain and his every limb atremble. 
 
 Beruriah, however, buried her head in her 
 hands and remained seated as if rooted to the 
 spot alone with her two departed ones that she 
 had never ceased to love. Her glance was fixed 
 upon the distance, brimming with sorrow and 
 yearning for past joys and hopes forever lost,
 
 46 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 her heart wailing, almost breaking, but without 
 a tear in her burning eyes, 
 
 God had given; God had taken away. 
 Blessed be His Name. 
 
 No, she would not weep, although her wound 
 and her grief had been renewed in so touching 
 a manner. 
 
 And suddenly her thoughts turned to him 
 who had awakened her wound and her grief in 
 so appealing a fashion, — to his voice and his 
 eyes and his countenance, with its expression of 
 deep condolence. 
 
 But Simeon knew nothing of this. Deeply 
 wounded, he strode into the dense, black dark- 
 ness of his room, and stood there motionless, 
 his head bowed, his eyes closed. His love 
 would awaken no response. The hopes he had 
 built were vain. This wonderful woman, who 
 had been able to master the keenest grief be- 
 cause she was as strong as a giant in her God 
 and In her love for her husband, would surely 
 be able to withstand all the wiles of seduction 
 and all thoughts of lust. She would not behold
 
 BERURIAH 47 
 
 his beauty; she would not be impressed by his 
 learning. Her eyes would be sealed against 
 him, and even if she looked at him she would 
 not see him. And if his heart bled she would 
 say: "He deserves his punishment." What 
 was there now to do? Why should he remain 
 any longer? He must go back, — return to the 
 Yeshiva and bring the certainty that there was 
 no stronger woman than Beruriah. Then he 
 would bury his own grief within him forever. 
 He stretched forth his hands in the gloom as 
 if to cry out, and clinched his fists as if thus to 
 crush his woe, and at the same moment felt that 
 he would not return. His longing for Beruriah 
 was great, and who could measure the worth 
 of thirty days spent in her company? To see 
 her and hear her for thirty days! Who could 
 appraise that boon? And if he should return 
 so soon, his comrades would say, "We all knew 
 how strong was Beruriah on the day her two 
 sons died, and yet we sent you as a touchstone 
 to test her strength and purity. And since we 
 knew that three days were too few, we stipu-
 
 48 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 lated all of thirty." And who could tell? 
 Perhaps her heart had weakened under the 
 grievous burden that Death had laid upon it, 
 and now she would be unable any longer to 
 resist love? 
 
 At this last thought it seemed that the dark- 
 ness of his room was flooded with brightness. 
 And see, the servant had really brought in a 
 light. He was overjoyed and sat down to his 
 books. And in his voice there rang a certain 
 note that surely must convey to Beruriah the 
 depth of desire which was in his heart. 
 
 VII 
 
 He considered his future attitude and 
 planned his campaign. He would not appear 
 before her until the following Sabbath; 
 but he would let her hear his voice. From early 
 morn till late at night let her hear his voice — 
 his voice that was so charming and melodious, 
 so masculine. Let it follow her about through 
 all the rooms, into the garden before the house, 
 into the seclusion of her bed. Let it ac-
 
 BERURIAH 49 
 
 company her in her thoughts and sing with her 
 in all her prayers. And always, in case of ac- 
 cidental meeting, his beard would be well 
 combed and his head-covering would sit so well 
 over his high forehead that his beauty would 
 compel her eyes, and the bearing of his body 
 would summon to her the same thoughts that 
 had occurred to the Roman matron. 
 
 The first day of that week his voice and his 
 reciting sounded very mournful, and on the 
 second and third days it was likewise very sad. 
 And on those days his distant gaze, at their 
 accidental meetings, was full of pity and sor- 
 row. But on the fourth day a change came over 
 his voice. It rang with joy and a zest for life, 
 and when by accident they met he looked at her 
 most ardently, with glad rapture; she stopped 
 and followed him with her eyes, unable to 
 understand the great change. The sadness of 
 his voice and the longing in his glance she had 
 understood, and had explained in divers ways. 
 His own life was surely no happy one; all Israel 
 suffered eternal persecution; her home was
 
 50 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 a house of mourning. Then how could a per- 
 son be happy beneath its roof? Her very 
 proximity must inspire sadness. But the re- 
 joicing in his voice and the rapture of his glance 
 she could neither understand nor justify. And 
 all that day his voice disquieted her; at night 
 it weighed still heavier upon her in the lone- 
 someness of her bed. Why was he so happy? 
 What was chanting so joyously in his heart? 
 "How do his eyes look now?" she asked herself, 
 and grew ashamed at her thoughts, directing 
 them to Rabbi Mayer. She longed for him, 
 hoping that the thirty days would fly by as 
 soon as possible. 
 
 On the next day and the day following the 
 great joy was with him still. Beruriah's 
 astonishment likewise continued. Once and 
 again she wished to stop him at one of their ac- 
 cidental meetings and ask the significance of the 
 great change that had come over him. But ^ 
 
 Beruriah would not ask. Not the wife of 
 Rabbi Mayer. What was this student, after 
 all, to her? Why should she be at all con-
 
 BERURIAH 51 
 
 ceraed with what was passing In the heart of 
 this strange man? She was neither his mother 
 nor his sister ; not even a friend of former years. 
 Did it become Berurlah to be inquisitive? Was 
 Rabbi Mayer's wife, then, like other women? 
 But she noticed that the stranger had become 
 even handsomer, more powerful, more mas- 
 culine. 
 
 Sabbath eve came once again and he said 
 grace and sang the holy songs, blessing the Lord 
 with a voice more exalted than ever, more filled 
 than ever with the Sabbath spirit, more than 
 ever inspired and Inspiring. Again he looked 
 not often at his hostess, but when he raised his 
 eyes to seek her glance, they had a farawav look 
 filled with admiration and ecstasy, and their 
 colour was the colour of a flaming ruby set in 
 black, as If the Sabbath candles glowed within 
 them. 
 
 And again that night on his couch he sang 
 into the darkness of his room various passages 
 from the Bible, which he knew bv heart, and in 
 particular many verses from the Song of Songs,
 
 52 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 the song of love and passion and Infinite yearn* 
 Ing. His voice throbbed with joy and yet it 
 quivered with a deep unrest; and a great yearn- 
 ing spoke In it, as If calling for something that 
 could render Its happiness complete. 
 
 And Beruriah lay quite restless in her place. 
 The singer's voice inundated her being, nor 
 could she banish its magnetic sound. She tried 
 to think of Rabbi Mayer, but instead found 
 herself repeating the passages that came to her 
 from Simeon's room. And suddenly there 
 flashed upon her the Idea that Rabbi Ismael's 
 son must cherish a love in his heart. It must be 
 a wife or a sweetheart; either he loved her with 
 intense passion or was longing for her endlessly. 
 And If his voice was now so joyful it must be 
 that of the thirty days a third had already 
 passed, and he would soon return to his be- 
 loved. 
 
 Now, however, she could no longer repeat 
 after him the verses from the Song of Songs, 
 from him to her^ — his beloved; his wife or his 
 sweetheart. Beruriah buried her head in her
 
 BERURIAH 53 
 
 pillows, pulled the coverlet over It, and stopped 
 her ears with her hands so as to keep out 
 Simeon's voice and his love verses; she turned 
 all her thoughts to Rabbi Mayer and began 
 to recite the other passages from the Song of 
 Songs, — the passages from her to him, and her 
 heart languished for him, for her husband, for 
 her beloved, for her great love and yearning. 
 
 And once more, after the Sabbath closing 
 prayers, before he went into his room he turned 
 to her with great tenderness. 
 
 "Forgive me the glances, my hostess, that I 
 cast upon you yester eve and to-day." 
 
 She shuddered at the unexpectedness of his 
 words, and could not understand his begging 
 pardon. 
 
 "What manner of glances were they?" she 
 asked. 
 
 He whispered softly, "Then you did not 
 notice them?" 
 
 "They were glances of intensest exaltation, 
 filled with wonderment and deep-felt ardour. 
 However, they did not belong to me."
 
 54 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 "You are wrong. To you !" 
 
 "To me?" 
 
 She rose to her full height and her face grew 
 pale and austere. 
 
 He, in ecstasy, proclaimed, "Yes, to you! — 
 Have you beheld how joyous I have been these 
 last few days?" 
 
 "I heard it in your voice." 
 
 "And do you know the cause?" 
 
 "Have you, then, told me?" 
 
 "I'll tell you now. The cause was you 
 alone." 
 
 Her face assumed an even colder expression, 
 and her eyes became even sterner. The shadow 
 of anger crossed her forehead and her brows, 
 and he cried out, with delight, as if to drive 
 away the evil shadow : 
 
 "Oh, Beruriah, hear me out! For three 
 days and three nights I was filled with the grief 
 of your grief; for three days and three nights 
 I have not ceased to ask why you were so 
 heavily punished with the death of your two 
 little ones — You, the chosen of God, — ^you, the
 
 BERURIAH S5 
 
 blessed one! If I asked that even before I 
 knew you, how then must it have cried aloud 
 within me when the greatness of your soul was 
 discovered to me in all its splendour? To think 
 that you of all should be martyred so ! That 
 you should be the victim of a never-ending sor- 
 row! And my heart rebelled within me, and 
 like Job I could see no justice in the ways of 
 God. And when one ceases to behold justice 
 in the ways of God, how dark and dreary must 
 the world become! But suddenly, on the 
 fourth day, it seemed to me as if God must 
 have raised a trifle the veil that screens the 
 purpose of His deeds and allowed me to gaze 
 upon their goal. How would the world have 
 realised the grandeur of your soul, if not 
 through the great grief that befell you? How 
 should we have known what Beruriah was, if 
 her heart had not been delivered into the hands 
 of the torturer? Your two sons, had they 
 lived, would have made mankind richer by two 
 living beings, — perhaps worthless ones, un- 
 necessary, unhappy; but through their death
 
 56 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 they made humanity the richer by 'a living Beru- 
 riah. Now for the first time do we conceive 
 what we possess in you; now for the first time 
 do we know your worth. That which lay veiled 
 in darkness has been illuminated by a glorious 
 light. Boundless treasures that have lain buried 
 have been brought forth for the use of all. We 
 have all grown richer through you, and future 
 generations will enjoy that wealth. As from 
 a spring of life humanity will imbibe its power 
 from you, its consolation. 'See,' they will say, 
 'how Beruriah mastered her enormous grief, 
 her double bereavement. Emulate her and be 
 consoled!' Oh, Beruriah, when this flashed 
 upon me, how could I help feel joyous, and how 
 could I keep my glances from betraying exalta- 
 tion and admiration for you?" 
 
 And before Beruriah could open her lips to 
 make reply, he fell to his knees and kissed the 
 hem of her garment, pressing it to his lips far 
 longer than the first time ; then he arose and left 
 the room, holding his head erect, half-dancing, 
 in token of his jubilation. And soon his voice
 
 BERURIAH 57 
 
 was resounding through the house, — a ringing, 
 singing, joyous, jubilant voice, filled with power 
 and fervour. Was not Beruriah now full of 
 him ? Had he not won her now ? 
 
 Beruriah sat in confusion, indeed full of his 
 voice and his presence, and at times it seemed as 
 if an angel from heaven were addressing her. 
 Only when she was able to give thought to what 
 he had said could she liberate herself from his 
 spell. Her mind grew clearer and with a sigh 
 she rose. And this is what she told her un- 
 happy mother-heart: 
 
 "It is possible that the world has been made 
 richer, and that such was the purpose of God 
 when he took from me my two children. He 
 has His goal and His aims, and His ways are 
 hidden from our sight. But I have become so 
 poor, so poor. . . ." 
 
 VIII 
 
 During the whole of the first day of the 
 new week his voice was scarcely heard, and 
 Beruriah wondered. Had anything hap-
 
 58 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 pened to him? She fairly longed for his voice. 
 The aged servant, however, brought her the 
 news that the guest, for the most part, paced 
 back and forth In his room. And when he 
 seated himself at his table, he burled his head 
 in his arms and remained thus motionless. 
 
 And Beruriah said that surely he had en- 
 countered a difficult passage In the Torah. 
 Rabbi Mayer, too, was in the habit of acting 
 so when confronted by a perplexing problem, 
 and the student must take after the master. 
 
 Yet that same evening his voice was heard 
 again, but altogether altered. There was in it 
 nothing of its former joyousness, and nothing 
 of its still earlier sorrow. There was, how- 
 ever, a certain something that made Beruriah 
 listen, pouring unrest into her soul. It was 
 a note of yearning, and a note of entreaty. A 
 sort of petulance, as if from a pampered child, 
 and a kind of supplication, like a beggar at the 
 door. What did his voice wish now to say? 
 What did It mean now ? To whom was he now 
 speaking? To God? To his own heart? In
 
 BERURIAH 59 
 
 what measure was she, Berurlah, here in- 
 volved? If at first it had been she who sounded 
 in his voice, what did he wish of her now? 
 Was he praying to God in her behalf? What 
 did he ask of God for her? 
 
 She tossed from side to side upon her bed, 
 and thought how really wondrous was this man. 
 She saw him stand before her in all his beauty, 
 with his sadness and his fervour, and with his 
 eyes in which the colours dissolved; she heard 
 his voice, which penetrated her heart and her 
 very soul; she exiled her thoughts with the 
 ardent prayer that the thirty days should pass 
 as quickly as possible. 
 
 But the days that followed dragged on 
 frightfully, for they were filled with a rising 
 pathos and plaintiveness in Simeon's voice, — 
 with increasing supplication and entreaty. It 
 rose to an ever louder appeal for pity, an ever 
 more languishing cry for love. The air in 
 Beruriah's room became difficult for her to 
 breathe and she began to seek calm in long 
 walks and frequent visits, but she was haunted
 
 6o TEMPTATIONS 
 
 by the sensation that there In her room re- 
 sounded Simeon's yearning, Imploring voice. 
 And the voice followed her Into the distant 
 streets, walked with her Into the strangers' 
 houses, took part In all her conversations. Re- 
 turning to her home became for Beruriah a trial. 
 She could not bear to listen to the voice; she 
 feared It, and feared even more an accidental 
 meeting with him, for the far-off gaze of his 
 eyes, which had now become quite black, 
 gleamed with such desire and love-entreaty that 
 It was Impossible for a human soul to bear It. 
 She awaited the Sabbath eve with a throb- 
 bing bosom. The approach of the holy day 
 brought her no pleasure. Her first thought 
 was to have notified him that she was 111 and 
 could not come to table. But her second 
 thought was that Beruriah, the wife of Rabbi 
 Mayer, should not resort to pretexts, or hide 
 from any one. What, Indeed, was Simeon to 
 her? What mattered to her the unrest of his 
 heart? She should never have noticed the 
 quality of his voice or the colour of his eyes.
 
 BERURIAH 61 
 
 And If he should ask again whether she had 
 remarked his glances, she would reply that she 
 did not wish to be questioned so, since his 
 glances were of no concern to her. Let him 
 better ask of Rabbi Mayer whether he might 
 inquire of her about his glances. 
 
 And thus she remained to hear his Sabbath 
 blessings and his Sabbath songs. 
 
 But his voice no longer rang with its Sab- 
 bath tones. It was like a melodious violin 
 that had cracked. He thanked God and 
 blessed Him, but as one who must thank and 
 must bless, and whose heart is not in his deeds, 
 because he is discontent and wronged. He ate, 
 too, as one who compels himself, without ap- 
 petite, against his will and sparingly. His 
 cloud-grey eyes looked less at the food before 
 him than at Beruriah, and his glances were De- 
 sire itself, — Yearning itself. 
 
 And when, in the darkness of the night, 
 there began to resound through the house 
 verses from the Song of Songs, in a voice as of 
 doves cooing, like the cry of a heart dissolving
 
 62 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 in desire, Beruriah laid her pillow upon her 
 head and placed her fingers in her ears, and her 
 heart began to beat most rapidly. She knew 
 that the verses were meant for her, were sent to 
 her, spoke to her, longed for her, implored her. 
 And as she lay, she spoke to her heavy heart: 
 "Lord of the universe, is it not enough that 
 Thou hast punished my heart? Must Thou 
 punish another heart through me? If I am to 
 be a consolation unto them who believe in Thee, 
 how dost Thou now wish to make me the great 
 grief and the despair of one of Thy worship- 
 pers? Lord of the universe, was Beruriah, 
 Thy chosen one. Thy blessed one, born to ex- 
 perience misfortune and to spread it? Lord 
 God, I wept not on Thy holy Sabbath, when 
 both my little children passed away. Wouldst 
 Thou have me now to weep before Thee? Oh, 
 God of Abraham, turn his heart from me, and 
 turn his thoughts to Thee. Reveal me that 
 infinite grace. Lord of the universe !" 
 
 And because Simeon, at this juncture, ceased 
 his singing, overcome by grief and weariness as
 
 BERURIAH 63 
 
 sleep, like a heavy burden, pressed his lids, it 
 seemed to Beruriah that God had heard her 
 prayer. She now remov^ed the pillow from her 
 head and placed it underneath with a sigh of 
 relief, filled with gratitude. Then she fell Into 
 a peaceful slumber. 
 
 On the following day, however, Beruriah 
 saw that God had not heard her prayer nor 
 answered It. For the voice of Rabbi Ismael's 
 son was charged with supplication and his eyes 
 brimmed over with desire. And it was after 
 the closing prayers, when Simeon had turned 
 to Beruriah to ask about his glances. Beruriah 
 was not to be seen. She had disappeared, be- 
 cause she knew that his mouth could be stopped 
 and his lips sealed by neither sharp speech nor 
 angry rebuke. His accumulated yearning would 
 find a way, and his passion would burst from his 
 heart; he would sin grievously against God with 
 his words and his deeds. And how would she 
 then be able to keep him under her roof? And 
 the thirty days were not yet over. 
 
 But Simeon knew that Beruriah had noticed
 
 64 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 his glances and interpreted his voice aright. 
 His heart was therefore flooded with joy and 
 hope. She had disappeared because she felt 
 her weakness ; her strength had begun to waver. 
 The struggle within her had already com- 
 menced, and he would be her conqueror. 
 
 IX 
 
 For three days longer the yearning and the 
 entreaty continued. And of a sudden the 
 voice was transformed into a wild, unbearable 
 shrieking. Simeon had fallen into despair. 
 The thirty days were fast drawing to a close 
 and his love for Beruriah had flamed up like 
 the fires of hell. He lost his peace of mind 
 entirely, and his body began to be consumed by 
 passion. His cheeks grew thin, his eyes looked 
 sunken, reddish-yellow, ill. It seemed to him 
 as if his body were incessantly smitten, and 
 within, his being cried aloud its pain. His 
 voice took up the cry. But it was the cry 
 of the ox for the cow, — only more passionate, 
 more pain-stricken, more excruciating.
 
 BERURIAH 65 
 
 When Beruriah heard such a voice she was 
 seized with trembling; a feeling of disgust 
 surged over her. For days at a time she 
 shunned her very dwelling, but the suffering of 
 repulsion she carried plainly with her. Who- 
 ever met her said, "Beruriah is stricken with an 
 evil illness." And her friends questioned her, 
 "Wha«t has befallen you?" She avoided all 
 encounter with Simeon, and at night in her room 
 she had her aged servant stay with her. Fri- 
 day evening she had Simeon notified that she 
 could not come to table, but that she would 
 hear his saying of grace from where she lay. 
 His saying of grace, however, caused her to 
 shudder. He groaned it rather than recited it. 
 His breath came like that of an animal wounded 
 unto death. His voice was hoarse and choked 
 with angry tears. He barely approached his 
 food and looked around with savage eyes. The 
 old domestic heaved a sigh of thankfulness 
 when Simeon dashed from the dining-room. 
 Had he sung the Sabbath songs? Had he 
 blessed the Lord? Or had he been uttering
 
 66 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 blasphemy altogether? His voice rang more 
 with upbraiding than with benediction. Now 
 he knew that God had forsaken him, and had 
 showed him Beruriah only to crush him. Need 
 he restrain himself? Need he pretend? Let 
 the woman know how he was suffering through 
 her, — how he lov^ed her, how he desired her. 
 
 And amidst the gloom of his room, he re- 
 peated in a voice made hoarse with lust, pas- 
 sages from the Song of Songs, — those impreg- 
 nated with most love and passion. 
 
 "How fair and how pleasant art thou, Oh 
 love, for delights! This thy stature is like to 
 a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of 
 grapes. I said, I will go up to the palm tree, 
 I will take hold of the branches thereof: now 
 also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine, 
 and the smell of thy nose hke apples." 
 
 He sang them again and again, wildly, pas- 
 sionately, lustfully. 
 
 And Beruriah was engulfed in still deeper 
 loathing. It was as though some one had made 
 her body unclean. She huddled together, shud-
 
 BERURIAH 67 
 
 dering. She opened her eyes wide, peering into 
 the dense darkness, speaking to God as if she 
 beheld Him there before her, in the gloom. 
 
 "I accepted as a boon the grievous sorrow 
 Thou sentest unto me. But this indignity I 
 cannot suffer. How have I merited it? What 
 is Thy aim? How have I sinned that Thou so 
 shouldst humble me? My heart is weak and 
 wracked; wouldst Thou rend it utterly? Then 
 tear it out, Oh Lord, and I will thank Thee. 
 But remove from me the burden of this insult. 
 Deliver me from this uncleanliness." 
 
 The lustful voice, however, did not cease. 
 Indeed, it rang with even greater lust, grovelling 
 before her, embracing her, clawing her. And 
 Beruriah groaned like a wounded deer, taking 
 refuge beneath her pillow and her coverlet, as 
 if to smother herself, prepared to die — 
 
 All that Sabbath day she remained in her 
 room, behind lock and key, — indignant, over- 
 come by aversion, anger, fury. Too, on 
 the other days she avoided Simeon, even as a
 
 68 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 nauseating leper is tremblingly shunned. But 
 on the thirtieth day Simeon lay in waiting, and 
 late in the afternoon met her face to face. He 
 was dressed ready for his departure, staff in 
 hand and wallet across his shoulder. But not 
 the proud, handsome Simeon stood before her; 
 not the Adonis who had turned Jew. He was 
 wan, thin, bent; his face sallow, his eyes sunken, 
 feverish and red; his beard unkempt; his head- 
 covering awry. Adonis had forgotten to be 
 beautiful. Adonis had become infirm and old. 
 Adonis bore in his heart a fatal wound. 
 
 Beruriah straightened up in all her pride, in 
 all her beauty, and looked at him ruthlessly, 
 haughtily, wishing to pass him by. But he 
 barred her way. A moment they eyed each 
 other without a word; then he opened his lips 
 and spoke to her: 
 
 "Cursed be the day when I first gazed upon 
 you, but sevenfold accursed be the day on which 
 my companions chose me to be your touchstone, 
 and seventy-seven times accursed be the day on 
 which I crossed the threshold of your home.
 
 BERURIAH 69 
 
 May these days be obliterated from God's year, 
 and may the memory of them be a curse for 
 generations. May they be days of calam- 
 ity " 
 
 Beruriah interrupted his malediction, speak- 
 ing with merciless austerity: 
 
 "Job, too, did once the same and cursed a 
 day of God's. You may spare yourself this 
 art of imprecation. Go your way and thank 
 God that he led you to Beruriah's home, and 
 brought you not to greater sin, — Thank Him 
 that two souls were rescued from eternal per- 
 dition. But before you leave, explain one 
 thing to me. What do you mean when you say 
 that your companions chose you to be my touch- 
 stone? If I understand you aright " 
 
 Her glance was sharp and deeply penetrating, 
 and Simeon replied, "You have understood me 
 aright!" 
 
 With eyes agape and quickening breath she 
 questioned further. 
 
 "And the story of the agents was a lie?"
 
 70 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 Simeon answered feverishly, trembling in 
 every limb. 
 
 "The tale was false from the beginning to 
 the end. No single word of truth was in it. 
 The Academy, who knew the fortitude of your 
 heart against death, wished to know, too, the 
 strength of your heart against love. And they 
 chose me " 
 
 Again she interrupted his account, with star- 
 ing eyes and breath that came in gasps. 
 
 "And— Rabbi— Mayer ?" 
 
 "i/^ devised the plan." 
 
 She uttered a shriek as if her heart had sud- 
 denly been pierced, breathed heavily and shut 
 her eyes. A moment later she asked, with her 
 eyes still closed, "Did Rabbi Mayer, too, de- 
 sire to know the fortitude of my heart against 
 sinful love?" 
 
 And Simeon answered weakly, wearily: 
 
 "At first he flew into a fury against the stu- 
 dents for their doubts as to your virtue, but 
 afterwards their mistrust became his mistrust."
 
 BERURIAH 71 
 
 Beruriah, astounded, groaned with pain, and 
 Simeon continued his account: 
 
 " 'The apple Is wondrous fair,' said Rabbi 
 Mayer, 'but who can say what passes In Its 
 heart?'" 
 
 Beruriah moaned, more heavily grieved than 
 ever. And Simeon, mercilessly, indifferently, 
 wearily added, "And he said, 'What does one 
 do to learn whether the beautiful apple Is sound 
 at the core? He cuts it open ' " 
 
 Beruriah turned, wincing as if under knives, 
 and suddenly wailed In a voice that was not her 
 own, "Go!" Then she rushed into her room, 
 her eyes closed, stupefied, stunned. 
 
 And Simeon went forth upon his way, slowly, 
 exhaustedly, his head bowed and his limbs 
 heavy, like one who has been banished Into 
 exile, — homeless and forlorn. 
 
 X 
 
 Beruriah stood In her room, pressing her 
 hands to her face, to her eyes, as if seeking 
 to drive something away, — a nightmare,
 
 72 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 an evil vision. She closed her eyes, sud- 
 denly, and as suddenly opened them wide — 
 once, twice, three times; her heart beat wildly 
 and shrieked strange things within her. 
 
 *'//^ had doubts about me ! He sent a man 
 to test me! Is It possible? Is it possible?" 
 
 She ran In pursuit of Simeon. She must 
 question him further. Perhaps he had told her 
 a lie? Perhaps this tale of testing was his own 
 Invention? Perhaps the story about the agents 
 was the truth ? Perhaps she had heard wrong? 
 May It not all have been a fiction of her 
 imagination? Maybe it was all an evil dream? 
 
 Simeon was far along the road, walking with 
 heavy step, as If grown old. She wished to call 
 to him, to run after him, but suddenly it came 
 to her that this was neither an evil dream nor 
 her fantasy, — ^that this time the son of Rabbi 
 Ismael had not deceived her. The curse that 
 he had called down upon the second day had 
 surely not been feigned. The words he had 
 put into Rabbi Mayer's mouth came surely 
 from Rabbi Mayer.
 
 BERURIAH 73 
 
 Tears began to oppress her and she hastened 
 back to her room, threw herself upon the bed 
 and burst into long and bitter weeping. She 
 tore her hair, sank her nails into her cheeks, 
 bit the bed-clothes beneath her, wailing and 
 lamenting. But when she heard the steps of 
 her aged servant, she mastered herself, grew 
 quiet and lay there calmly. She placed herself 
 so that it might appear she lay there thus, 
 asleep. 
 
 The servant brought in lights and reminded 
 her that it was time to eat the evening meal. 
 Beruriah stammered she was feeling ill that 
 evening and that food would do her harm. But 
 the kind old servant tempted her with some 
 dainties and asked whether the mistress would 
 want her company that night, too, in the bed- 
 room. Receiving the answer "No," she wished 
 Beruriah good-night and walked away to her 
 usual place. 
 
 Beruriah lay with open eyes and gazed into 
 the shadows of the half-lighted room. Her 
 head was in a maze; she could not think a single
 
 74 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 definite thought. She only knew that a terrible 
 misfortune had befallen her, — a misfortune 
 greater far than the loss of her two sons, — a 
 catastrophe great beyond all explanation. She 
 could not yet conceive it; it was such as must 
 undo her evermore, — must work the pro- 
 foundest transformation in her life. 
 
 And all at once she wearily arose, her eyes 
 dilated, gazing straight ahead. 
 
 Yes. Even so. Rabbi Mayer could be her 
 husband no longer. 
 
 She clenched her teeth and fortified her 
 heart; her distended eyes still fixed their glance 
 before her. Now she could think quite clearly. 
 
 Had Rabbi Mayer himself betrayed no 
 doubt, but simply yielded to the doubts of 
 others, she would have felt no insult and her 
 heart would have remained quite calm. She 
 would have rejoiced at the strength of his 
 faith in her. And her own strength, too, 
 would have been a double boon. She would 
 have twitted him upon the daring step he had 
 taken, and told him that such a course was
 
 BERURIAH 75 
 
 foolish, and would have aided him to triumph 
 over the evil cavillers, who had dared to drag 
 her down into the mire of their suspicions. 
 
 But he alone had doubted! He alone had 
 desired the test, to support his faith In her. 
 He alone had dared be unassured of his Beru- 
 riah's strength! Her own husband had not 
 known her heart and had sullied its purity with 
 the filth of doubt! 
 
 Suppose she had not triumphed over the test? 
 The peril had been great; the handsome 
 Simeon, too, was very dangerous. Yet Rabbi 
 Mayer had not feared to lose her. He had 
 risked her in a game, — had led her to sacri- 
 fice! 
 
 He could be her husband no longer I 
 
 She repeated this over and over again, in- 
 sistently, with raging harshness cutting it into 
 her soul. 
 
 He should have to grant her a divorce; she 
 should remain alone. All alone, — all, all alone. 
 
 A bitter grief assailed her, making her close 
 her eyes, and a great wretchedness enfolded
 
 76 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 her. She was seized with a deep yearning for 
 her departed children; her heart went out to 
 them; she stretched forth her hands to them, 
 and pressed her hands to her bosom, shaking 
 her head; the tears came fast as she whispered 
 fond endearments and mother-words. 
 
 She saw them before her, just as they looked 
 In the final days before their sudden death. 
 Playful, laughing, bright. She felt their pres- 
 ence so plainly that she looked around for 
 them. No. They were not there. They were 
 dead. They lay In the distant graveyard, deep 
 In the cold earth, encased in boards. Strewn 
 with earth. Alone they lay there, so forsaken, 
 — her little darlings, — and were longing per- 
 haps for their mother, even as their mother 
 longed for them. 
 
 This thought sank deep and took root in her 
 heart. At last she began to weep softly, con- 
 vulsively: 
 
 "My children need me, and I have need of 
 them." 
 
 And when she had wept out all her tears she
 
 BERURIAH 77 
 
 made a resolution. Once this was determined 
 upon she turned to God. 
 
 "What I am about to do is a great trans- 
 gression. I will disobey Thy sacred command- 
 ment and violate Thy counsel. But I cannot do 
 otherwise. God in heaven, I can live no longer. 
 May the good merits of my father intercede for 
 me. The worth of my father, the holy martyr, 
 who refused the offer of the executioner to 
 hasten his horrible death, lest the forced hasten- 
 ing resemble, in Thine eyes, self-murder. May 
 he protect me. Thou wilt have to grant his 
 daughter forgiveness for taking her own life 
 in order all the sooner to meet her children. 
 Eternal God, take me to them; part us never- 
 more. Punish me not after death as severely 
 as Thou hast punished me in my life. I sur- 
 render my soul into Thy merciful hands. I 
 go to Thee and to my children." 
 
 Now she arose from her bed and garbed her- 
 self in purest white, writing with firm hand 
 something upon a tablet. Then from a casket 
 she drew a small, sharp knife, testing its blade
 
 78 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 upon her finger-nail. Calmly and piously she 
 prayed "Hear, Oh Israel," and severed the 
 veins of both her arms. With blood streaming 
 from her, and without a cry of pain, she ex- 
 tinguished the light, stretched herself out upon 
 the bed, and began the journey to her little 
 ones. 
 
 She kept her eyes wide open as she lay there 
 bleeding to death, and beheld her children be- 
 fore her. Far off there in the graveyard, in 
 their graves, they had sat up, white and steeped 
 in sadness, awaiting her arrival. And she said 
 to them, "Wait, I come to you, my darling 
 sons ! Soon I shall be with you, precious 
 hearts!" Endlessly she whispered fond en- 
 dearments, mother-words. 
 
 Not for a moment did she give a thought to 
 the olden days. She could behold only her 
 children and the road to them. Only at the 
 end, when the long, long sleep was coming over 
 her and the vision of her children and the way 
 to them grew blurred and dim, did she utter in
 
 BERURIAH 79 
 
 peaceful yearning, with silent tears, "Mayer! 
 Mayer!" 
 
 XI 
 
 And it happened that when the handsome 
 Simeon returned to the Yeshiva the stu- 
 dents there cried out in horror at his altered 
 looks. 
 
 "See," he exclaimed, "what has overtaken 
 me because for thirty days I dashed myself 
 against the stony strength of Beruriah. Her 
 strength and purity are above all uncertainty, 
 but I am utterly undone." 
 
 And Rabbi Mayer glowered triumphantly at 
 his disciples, took his staff and wallet and left 
 to seek Beruriah. But he found her dead, — 
 gone to join her children. And on the tablet 
 were written these few words: "He who cuts 
 open the apple also destroys it." 
 
 He seized his temples, his eyes expanded 
 wildly, and he burst forth Into a heart-break- 
 ing, soul-rending wail: "Beruriah!"
 
 THE TEMPTATIONS OF RABBI AKIBA
 
 THE TEMPTATIONS OF RABBI AKIBA 
 
 HEAVENS, how stern and pious a Jew 
 this Rabbi Akiba was! Scarcely his 
 peer to be found in all Judea. 
 
 He devoted all his days and all his nights to 
 the Holy Law, studying it himself and ex- 
 pounding it to others. The number of his 
 disciples was a veritable army, and whoever 
 heard the Torah from his lips felt that he 
 drank from the very source of life. 
 
 Not only did he teach the Torah's word, but 
 also how to live its very spirit, how to purge 
 oneself of gaiety; for laughter, play and mirth 
 all led to sin. 
 
 He, too, dwelt in all simplicity, renouncing 
 every earthly pleasure. He was deeply in love 
 with his wife, the beautiful Rachel, the wise and 
 learned daughter of Kalba-Sabua. But in order 
 to belong entirely to the Torah he even parted 
 
 83
 
 84 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 from his sweet beloved and became an ascetic. 
 
 This was a sore burden to him. He longed 
 ueeply for his wife, and he was still a man in the 
 very prime of life. In order not to weaken, 
 and to make sure of maintaining this separa- 
 tion and his pious seclusion, he made a vow to 
 himself that he should not return to his wife un- 
 til he acquired twelve thousand disciples. This 
 he did because he held that an oath was as a 
 wall around holy retirement. He would have 
 to keep his word and his absence from his wife 
 would thus be ensured. 
 
 This fortitude, however, caused him to be 
 unrelenting toward every one else. What he 
 could do, all must be able to do. And he de- 
 manded of all the strictest abstention from the 
 sins of the flesh, excoriating with barbed words 
 the desire for women in the hearts of men. 
 
 Whereupon the weaklings — those who could 
 not withstand the woman-lust in their hearts 
 and were wracked by the sins of the flesh — 
 spoke thus of Akiba : 
 
 "Merely because he was able to part from
 
 TEMPTATIONS OF RABBI AKIBA 85 
 
 his wife is no proof that he is above tempta- 
 tion. Let Satan but approach him in the form 
 of a naked woman and lust will suddenly befall 
 him like an enemy from ambush, and rob him 
 of all his senses, even as a thief robs his victim 
 In the night." 
 
 And they added to their prayers an entreaty 
 that God should lead the Rabbi into such 
 temptation. And, to their own punishment, 
 God heard their prayers. 
 
 When Rabbi Akiba left his wife he also left 
 the city in which she dwelt. This he did, not 
 so much from personal choice, lest the proxim- 
 ity of his wife allure him, but rather for her 
 sake, lest his nearness too much affect her. And 
 in order that his wife, in her feminine weakness, 
 should not follow him to the new place in which 
 he intended to settle, he did not for a long 
 time establish himself anywhere, journeying 
 from city to city and from land to land. 
 
 And once, in his peregrinations, he came to a 
 land in which remarkable customs and manners
 
 86 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 prevailed. One of these customs was to sweet- 
 en the nights of the honoured guests with the 
 company of women. 
 
 And it happened that when the ruler of this 
 land learned of Rabbi Akiba's arrival and the 
 importance of his guest, he sent to him for the 
 night two beautiful damsels, the most beautiful 
 in his realms. In the manner of women both 
 beauties did their best to heighten their charms 
 and increase the power of their attraction. 
 They freshened themselves in the bath; the 
 enchanting odour of their youthful bodies they 
 rendered more intoxicating than ever with rare 
 perfumes; they arrayed themselves seductively 
 like brides on the wedding night. And they 
 came to Rabbi Akiba in radiant half-nakedness, 
 with an inviting smile upon their cherry 
 lips, with the fire of passion and voluptuousness 
 in their sparkling eyes. 
 
 They knew that they were going to a highly 
 honoured guest, but they did tiot know that 
 they would encounter a very handsome man of 
 gigantic stature. When they beheld him their
 
 TEMPTATIONS OF RABBI AKIBA 87 
 
 passion flamed still higher, and each tried to 
 display before him the most enticing allure- 
 ments of her person. 
 
 "Come to me," said one. 
 
 "Come to me," invited the other. 
 
 And they passed close to him with their 
 naked bodies, and each praised her person and 
 its charms, and the pleasures it afforded. 
 
 "My body is as white as the full moon." 
 
 "And my body is as rosy as the rising sun." 
 
 "In my embrace you will lie as softly as in 
 warm down." 
 
 "And in my arms you will feel the tender 
 warmth of newly-shorn lambs' wool." 
 
 "The kiss of my lips is like the wine of 
 Damascus." 
 
 "And my lips are like the round grapes in 
 which the sunbeams have chosen their home." 
 
 And thus they continued, — the firmness of 
 their breasts, the velvety softness of their skin, 
 the ravishing delight of their legs, and the in- 
 toxication of their tenderness. One wrapped 
 him about with her dark hair; the blonde
 
 88 te:mptations 
 
 tresses of the other likewise enmeshed him. 
 And with the passing of the hours their lust 
 increased; their naked bodies turned and 
 writhed, wracked and tortured by rising desire. 
 
 "Come, take me!" implored the one. 
 
 "Come, take me!" panted the other. 
 
 But Rabbi Akiba sat between them and — 
 spat. For a whole night he sat between them 
 and spat, looking neither upon one nor the 
 other. He did not try to distract his mind 
 with Torah thoughts, for he did not wish to 
 bring the Torah into the company of two naked 
 women. He simply tried to work himself into 
 a feeling of repulsion, to rouse within him a 
 powerful resistance. 
 
 And thus he sat and spat — more vehemently, 
 more impatiently than ever, with rising disgust, 
 with increasing aversion. At last, however, he 
 became calm, indifferent, ice-cold. 
 
 At first the two beautiful damsels looked at 
 him in astonishment. Why was he spitting so? 
 Why did he not touch them? Was he a fool? 
 Was he crazy? Were they not beautiful
 
 TEMPTATIONS OF RABBI AKIBA 89 
 
 enough? Not young enough? Not passionate 
 enough? 
 
 They questioned him; he vouchsafed no 
 reply. Then they were on the point of leaving 
 him, when they looked at him again and saw 
 how handsome he was, and gazed once more 
 into his eyes and saw wisdom itself beaming 
 out of them. Then they forgot his remarkable 
 behaviour, disregarded his incessant spitting, 
 threw their nakedness and the fire of their 
 bodies upon him, and pleaded and begged and 
 groaned, calling to him in their intoxication. 
 
 "Take 7ner 
 
 "Take meV 
 
 The whole night passed in this way. In the 
 morning, weary and exhausted, they went to the 
 ruler and complained to him against Rabbi 
 Akiba. In despair, they cried out, "Sooner 
 death than another time with that man!" 
 
 The ruler sent for Rabbi Akiba and ques- 
 tioned him. 
 
 "Why did you not act toward the women I 
 sent in to you as the sons of man act with
 
 90 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 women? Are they not beautiful? Are they 
 not human, like you? Has not He, who created 
 you, likewise created them?" 
 
 If Rabbi Akiba had replied that, in spending 
 the night with them in the manner of the sons 
 of man with woman, he would have committed 
 a sin, then the ruler would surely become angry. 
 Did his hospitality then lead to sin? Was his 
 hospitality an incentive to wrong-doing? 
 
 Rabbi Akiba's wisdom saw this at once, and 
 with an altogether innocent expression he re- 
 plied, "What could I do? Before they came 
 to me they must surely have eaten impure 
 things, and the odour from them was that of 
 carrion-meat, impurities, reptiles." 
 
 And Rabbi Akiba quickly left this land with 
 its remarkable hospitality, happy in the con- 
 sciousness that he had overcome the greatest of 
 temptations, — filled with thanks to God for 
 having so wonderfully given strength to his 
 heart. 
 
 As the number of his disciples at this time 
 had reached to twelve thousand, and as the
 
 TEMPTATIONS OF RABBI AKIBA 91 
 
 wall that separated him from his wife thereby 
 crumbled, he went back to her. As he came 
 to the door of his house he heard a strange 
 woman say to his wife, "Are you happy that 
 your husband Is returning after having ac- 
 quired twelve thousand disciples?" 
 
 "I should be still happier," answered his 
 wife, "If he returned with twenty-four thou- 
 sand." 
 
 And Rabbi Akiba did not open the door of 
 his house, nor did he go in to his wife. Once 
 again he Imposed upon himself separation from 
 his m.ate, and erected a new wall about himself, 
 with a vow that he should not approach his 
 wife until he acquired four and twenty thou- 
 sand disciples. And again he left, to wander 
 through cities and lands, to spread the word of 
 God and assemble disciples. 
 
 From now on he became more severe than 
 ever In his religious demands, and his con- 
 demnations grew harsher. One who, like him, 
 had triumphed over such great temptations, had 
 full right to demand similar continence and will-
 
 92 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 power on the part of others. And he was wont 
 to mock, jeer and jest at all who committed a 
 sin. 
 
 He had forgotten the saying: "Believe not 
 thyself until the day of thy death." And in 
 Heaven it was decreed that he should be re- 
 minded of it. 
 
 One day his travels led him to a beautiful 
 spot, through woods and fields. It was a won- 
 derful day. The sun, midway in the sky, did 
 not burn, but laughed and sang of the splendour 
 of existence, pouring out joy upon the entire 
 land, upon wood and field, upon tree and grass. 
 All the birds and beasts and insects laughed and 
 sang together with it. Rabbi Akiba, filled with 
 the great gladness, forgot the passage of the 
 Torah that was running through his mind and 
 across his lips but a moment before, and could 
 not remove his glance from the sunny splen- 
 dours that surrounded him. 
 
 Suddenly it seemed as if some one had thrust 
 him backward. But it was nobody. It was
 
 TEMPTATIONS OF RABBI AKIBA 93 
 
 his own blood, and the blow that he had felt was 
 the throb of his own heart. 
 
 Were not his eyes deceiving him? He 
 opened them wide and looked again, intently. 
 
 No. His eyes saw clearly. A wondrously 
 beautiful naked girl at the top of a palm tree. 
 
 He could not believe his eyes, but there was 
 the girl looking down at him, smiling at him so 
 enticingly, intoxicating him with the pearly 
 whiteness of her teeth. 
 
 She was so beautiful and entrancing that the 
 sun had forgot its wedding-procession. It had 
 stopped in its path — this shining star — and had 
 enfolded the maiden's naked body in its rays, 
 colouring it a rosy red and fiUing its veins with 
 red wine. 
 
 Rabbi Akiba, too, stopped in his path, unable 
 to move from the spot, unable to tear himself 
 away from the dazzling vision. His heart 
 palpitated, his body burned, his tongue became 
 dry. He stood dumbfounded, and could not 
 himself hear how he barely managed to utter, 
 "Who are you?"
 
 
 94 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 And the vision upon the tree laughed seduc- 
 tively down to him. 
 
 "Come up and I will tell you." 
 
 "What are you doing there?" 
 
 "Come up, and you shall see." 
 'Are you gathering dates?" 
 'What need have I of them? I feed myself 
 and feed others with my own sweetness. Do 
 you not wish to taste it?" 
 
 "Why are you naked?" 
 
 "So that the sunbeams may enjoy me, and 
 the wind, and the hills, and the valleys, and the 
 heavens, and God." 
 
 "How can you he there so?" 
 • "I have a couch here made of leaves and 
 branches, — a soft couch for me and for those 
 whom I invite to enjoy me. Soft is my bed and 
 fragrant, — but even softer and more fragrant 
 am I. Will you not feel us?" 
 
 And in utter forgetfulness, filled with a 
 single intense desire. Rabbi Akiba approached 
 very close to the tree and scarcely had breath 
 to ask, "How can I get to you?"
 
 TEMPTATIONS OF RABBI AKIBA 95 
 
 The glorious vision uttered a magic laugh. 
 
 "Were you, then, never a little boy? What 
 did you do when a tempting apple nodded to 
 you from among the branches of an apple-tree? 
 You removed your clothes, made yourself as 
 light as possible, and climbed up the tree after 
 the beautiful, ripening fruit. Am I less than 
 the fruit? Is it not worth while to climb up 
 after me? Or are you old, and have your 
 bones become hard, and is climbing now be- 
 yond your years and your strength? Take off 
 your clothes; you will have no need of them in 
 any case, up here. Make yourself light, and 
 with all the youth that has now been born anew 
 in you, climb up to me. ..." 
 
 Enchanted and intoxicated, as hastily as pos- 
 sible, whipped on by driving impatience, Rabbi 
 Akiba cast off his clothes and seized the trunk 
 of the palm-tree, beginning to climb aloft. With 
 his naked hands and feet around the shaggy 
 bark, with his burning eyes riveted upon her 
 above, drinking in her beauty, sucking in the 
 warm ruddiness of her veins. He did not
 
 96 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 notice that his skin was being scratched and 
 torn by the bark of the tree, and that blood was 
 beginning to flow over his body. He climbed 
 higher, ever higher. 
 
 And her magic eyes drew him on as if with 
 ropes and her fascinating voice was as a guide 
 to him. From between her pearly teeth it 
 poured forth like wine that robbed the senses. 
 "Come! Co-o-ome! Co-o-ome!" 
 But when he had climbed half the height of 
 the palm he suddenly came to himself. It 
 was as if a cold wind had icily bedewed him 
 and had blown something away from before 
 his eyes, making him see the complete ludicrous- 
 ness and unworthiness of his position. He, 
 the renowned Master, teacher and judge among 
 the Jews, climbing, half-naked, up a tall tree, 
 driven and goaded on by lust! He threw him- 
 self down, rather than descended, from the 
 tree, rolled himself into a ball at its foot, and 
 burst into bitter tears. 
 
 A malicious, mocking voice spoke above him : 
 "Had it not been decreed in Heaven that you
 
 TEMPTATIONS OF RABBI AKIBA 97 
 
 and your Torah should be protected, your life 
 at this moment would not be worth a straw." 
 
 Rabbi Akiba wept more bitterly than ever, 
 striking his breasts and beating his head. 
 
 He dressed and continued on his way. The 
 sun no longer shone; heaven and earth were 
 veiled In greyish fog, and the laughter and 
 song of the surrounding scene now ceased. Or 
 perhaps it merely seemed so to him because 
 his heart was bitter and his soul grieved; he 
 looked neither to right nor to left and his ears 
 were deaf to the outer world. 
 
 He felt ashamed and debased. And he knew 
 that henceforth he would not mock those 
 who had committed sin. 
 
 Now he understood the weakness of man, 
 and how plentifully life was strewn with dan- 
 gers, and his lips muttered acridly, "All of us 
 here below are even as criminals who are re- 
 leased on bail, and a net of transgression Is 
 spread over all existence."
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST 
 
 JOHANAN the High Priest was eighty 
 years of age. Sound in spirit and strong 
 in body had he attained to that ripe old age, 
 at one with himself and his God. For from his 
 earliest childhood days he had been taught to 
 walk upon the Lord's ways, nor did he forsake 
 them. He guarded himself against all trans- 
 gression, and he built around him one wall 
 within another. To the old commandments 
 he added new, and was strict with himself in 
 fulfilling them. His words were: "The body 
 is nothing, the soul is all. The body is dust 
 and clay, the soul is eternity. Live not for 
 your bodies, live for your soul alone. Heed 
 not what time brings forth; turn all your 
 thoughts and your efforts to the everlasting." 
 
 lOl
 
 102 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 And as he preached, so did he live. Word 
 and deed were to him the same. And although 
 he was High Priest, — the leader of his people 
 and the wealthiest and mightiest of his breth- 
 ren, — his body knew nothing of the pleasures 
 of this world. 
 
 The inhabitants of Jerusalem, however, 
 revered him greatly for his steadfast consist- 
 ency. Although it was very difficult to follow 
 in his footsteps, and very few did so, his entire 
 people could not cease to marvel at him, and 
 their admiration rose to reverence and venera- 
 tion. 
 
 And because he was so beloved and respected, 
 his eightieth birthday became a holiday for all 
 the city. Every house was beautifully be- 
 decked, and all the inhabitants dressed in fes- 
 tive array; from every corner of the land men 
 and women in holiday mood made pilgrimages 
 to him, riding thither or coming on foot. And 
 there came to him from afar and near his 
 friends and admirers, with music and song, ask- 
 ing him to walk with them through the streets
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST 103 
 
 of Jerusalem. Let him see how the whole 
 people rejoiced In his longevity; let him feel 
 how beloved he was. The road was laid with 
 carpets, and little children ran ahead strewing 
 his path with flowers and crying, "Life ever- 
 lasting to our master the High Priest!" All 
 the streets were packed with festive crowds, 
 men and women; all the roofs were thronged 
 with denizens of Jerusalem; every window was 
 besieged, and the city resounded with the cry, 
 "Life everlasting to our master the High 
 Priest!" And the fair daughters of ZIon, with 
 graceful gestures and virtuous blushes, show- 
 ered him with flowers and wreaths. 
 
 And as he passed thus through the streets of 
 Jerusalem, amid the jubilation of the people, he 
 heard behind him the voice of a woman, saying, 
 "How handsome Is the old man, and how strong 
 he still Is ! A girl could fall In love with him !" 
 And because his heart was filled with pleasure 
 and forbearance, he turned his face toward the 
 gossiping woman, with a fatherly smile upon 
 his face. It was a young maiden, as beautiful
 
 104 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 as a picture, of medium build and buxom pres- 
 ence, and she received his glance with eyes out 
 of which beamed the sun. It was as if she had 
 been waiting for him to look upon her, reserv- 
 ing for him her most penetrating glance. He 
 was abashed at her look, and the genial, father- 
 ly smile upon his lips faded into embarrassment, 
 not knowing what to do with itself and at last 
 lengthening to a grimace. 
 
 And as he turned his head away from her he 
 heard the voice of a man, saying, "What has he 
 had, pray, of all his long life, his beauty and 
 his strength?" The voice came from the 
 vicinity of the beautiful woman, and in it echoed 
 a certain insolence, as if the speaker had meant 
 to strike him and hurt him with the words. 
 And yet there was deep pity in the voice. And 
 it seemed to the aged High Priest as if an arrow 
 had grazed his breast. He rose to his full 
 height, the smile vanished entirely from his 
 lips, his forehead became wrinkled and his 
 countenance grew dark. 
 
 His assistant, the vice High Priest, who
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST 105 
 
 walked beside him, noticed the change that had 
 come over the sage's face, and whispered to 
 him, angrily, "That is Jason, the son of Mes- 
 hulem, and the woman at his side is his sweet- 
 heart, Athaliah." 
 
 Johanan, however, affected not to hear what 
 his subordinate whispered to him. He raised 
 his head proudly and walked with firmer tread 
 than before. His entire exterior bore the 
 answer to Jason's words. His countenance 
 grew stern and the look in his eyes sharp. 
 Every moment spoke of his strength and of the 
 consciousness that he had nothing to regret in 
 his life. Jason understood this mute reply and 
 smiled back ironically yet sadly, but all the 
 people looked with great veneration upon the 
 proud, giant-strong figure of the High Priest. 
 They made way for him with trembling in their 
 hearts; piety and reverence echoed in their 
 incessant cries of "Life everlasting to our mas- 
 ter, the High Priest!" 
 
 His proud bearing did not forsake him dur- 
 ing all the time that he walked through the
 
 io6 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 streets, nor even later, as he sat with his 
 Intimate friends at the banquet given in his 
 honour. 
 
 II 
 
 That night, however, the High Priest could 
 not fall asleep. The small quantity of wine that 
 he had permitted himself to drink at the table 
 and the excitement kept sleep away from him. 
 A confusion of human figures and dwellings and 
 streets passed before his eyes; his ears buzzed 
 with the endless hum of voices and instruments. 
 But soon, from all the figures emerged that of 
 Athaliah, and he could hear distinctly what she 
 said and what Jason replied. At first It came to 
 him unawares, like a dim remembrance, a slight 
 impression. At once, however, the sight and 
 the voice grew clear to him, and he became un- 
 easy. He scowled angrily, as If trying to banish 
 form and voice, and soon he began to toss from 
 side to side. In vain! Athaliah stood before 
 him, with her eyes that beamed with the sun 
 transfixing him with her penetrating glance. He
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST 107 
 
 experienced a sensation that had come to his 
 body many a time during his life, — one that he 
 always feared as much as deadly sin, trying to 
 drive it from him by his strong will, long 
 prayers and severe fasting. 
 
 His being cried within him: he, he the octo- 
 genarian! How does he come to this? He 
 raged against himself and thought of himself 
 with scorn. Eighty years old and a High 
 Priest! He directed his thoughts to God; his 
 lips began to whisper a prayer. Yet the great 
 crowds continued to pass before his eyes, and 
 from the multitude, clear and well-defined, 
 there stood out Jason's sweetheart, the wonder- 
 fully beautiful Athaliah. Impossible to drive 
 her from his thoughts! Impossible! 
 
 Suddenly Jason's words caused his blood to 
 boil. A curse upon the wretch's mouth ! 
 What had he had of all his long life, his beauty 
 and his strength I He had devoted these to 
 God! God had given them to him and he was 
 God's debtor, and he had paid back God like 
 an honest man. His life was God's, and he
 
 io8 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 lived for God. Whoever lived otherwise was a 
 wicked man, a sinner against God, a debtor that 
 evades his debts. 
 
 These thoughts made him strong. It was as 
 if his muscles had become iron and his veins, 
 steel. 
 
 But despite everything, Athaliah's image did 
 not disappear. She stood before him in all her 
 beauty, with her radiant eyes, and that glance 
 which penetrated into his bones and his very 
 brain. He looked at her with ire and scorn; 
 he even spat in disgust. All this was of no 
 avail to banish the vision. 
 
 He lay calm, free of thoughts, and pretend- 
 ing to see nothing. His scorn of the feminine 
 form knew no bounds. Soon, however, he arose 
 and lighted a candle. The light must surely 
 banish the evil vision. Seated on the side of 
 the bed, his bare feet resting on the cold earth, 
 he began to murmur a prayer. He was angry, 
 utterly broken in body and soul. How came 
 this to him, the aged man? Woe, woe, he had
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST 109 
 
 not lived righteously after all. The bodily, the 
 fleshly, the sinful, still ruled over him. 
 
 He arose and stretched himself. Something 
 now grew clear to him. As long as the soul 
 dwells in the body, it must wage strife against 
 the body. Thus was God's will. And he 
 would give battle! His will was strong. He 
 even stamped his foot. Yes, his will was 
 strong! 
 
 And on that night he did not return to his 
 bed. He unrolled the Torah in the light of 
 the candle and sat down to study. He knew 
 that the form of the beautiful woman had not 
 yet vanished. He needed but to close his eyes 
 and he could see her. He needed but to turn his 
 head away from the sacred scroll and he would 
 behold her, feel her presence distinctly. But he 
 was calm. He knew that he would conquer in 
 the struggle with the vision, which came from 
 the Evil One. She would disappear. And his 
 voice, as it intoned the holy passages, was touch- 
 ing.
 
 no TEMPTATIONS 
 
 III 
 
 The following morning he went into the 
 wilderness, into the desert of Judea. He 
 said that he desired to be all alone after 
 the excitement of the previous day; far from 
 human beings and his own affairs he wished to 
 take account of his deeds: it was already high 
 time he did so, for he was very old. He went 
 into the desert, however, in reality to fast and 
 to torture his body in combat against a desire 
 that comes from Satan. He went barefoot over 
 the burning sand, on jagged rocks and through 
 thorns, under the scorching rays of a July sun, 
 without food or drink, granting himself no rest. 
 Yet the beautiful Athaliah hovered still before 
 him and behind. Many a time he cast himself 
 to earth, groaning frightfully. Not from 
 fatigue, not from hunger or thirst, however, but 
 from despair. Why did she not disappear? 
 He beat his heart and tore at his breasts. 
 "Lord God, why drivest Thou not from me this 
 visitation from Satan!"
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST in 
 
 But he little knew what was still In store for 
 him. When, that evening, after a meal of figs 
 and water, he lay down upon hard stones, 
 in a rocky hollow, tired, despairing, wracked 
 by a burning desire for the beautiful Athaliah, 
 a terrible thought assailed him. It came al- 
 together unexpectedly, like an enemy from be- 
 hind concealment. 
 
 What had he had of all his years, his beauty 
 and his strength? 
 
 These were Jason's words, but the High 
 Priest no longer knew it. The thought came 
 to him so overwhelmingly that he groaned and 
 commenced to tremble, as if he were exposed 
 upon the snow-capped summit of Mount 
 Lebanon. 
 
 He no longer remembered what he had 
 thought the previous night upon his bed, — what 
 had then made him so strong. One thought 
 alone kept gnawicig at him incessantly: "What 
 have I had of all my life, of my beauty and my 
 strength?" He even cried to God: "Lord,
 
 112 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 what have I had of all my life, of my beauty 
 and my strength?" 
 
 Under the stress of unfulfilled passion his en- 
 tire life seemed to him now like a desert. Harsh 
 and ascetic, thorns and stones. Nothing but 
 debts and debts paid. The body had been 
 nothing; the soul all. The soul! Who was it 
 crying so within him now? Who was longing 
 within him now? Was it the soul or the body? 
 
 His head sank back and he lay weary and 
 hopeless. All at once he started up. With 
 frightened eyes he gazed before him and delved 
 into his soul : How did he know that the truth 
 had been with him, — that his life had been the 
 true life ordained by God? 
 
 He stretched himself out upon his stomach, 
 his chin propped on his hands, his eyes staring 
 into the desolate night, burrowing, burrowing 
 into his soul. Somewhere in the distance 
 jackals were howling; a lion of the desert bel- 
 lowed with hunger. Johanan heard nothing. 
 He was cold, and his heart and soul were rent 
 asunder by bloody claws. The entire people
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST 113 
 
 lived altogether differently from him. Were 
 they all wicked sinners, and was he alone the 
 righteous man? But there was no righteous 
 man upon earth who had never sinned. What 
 was sin? They had often ridiculed his severity, 
 crying out against it. Had he really been too 
 severe? Where was the proper boundary? 
 
 He looked up to the sky. He half expected 
 that the heavens would now open and that he 
 would behold God and hear Him. Then he 
 would know the whole truth. God would re- 
 veal to him everything. To him alone. He 
 did not remove his eyes from heaven, and a 
 yearning enfolded him. He longed to see God, 
 to hear Him. He was eighty years old, and 
 for the greater part of his life had been a High 
 Priest, yet God had never revealed Himself 
 to him either in reality or in a dream. What 
 he knew, he knew from others, those who had 
 come before him. From Moses and the 
 Prophets. And, too, from himself alone, — 
 from what his heart had told him. But now 
 he wanted to hear it from God's own lips. Had
 
 1 14 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 he, then, not earned it? But hour after hour 
 went by, yet the heavens parted not, nor did 
 God reveal Himself. The stars twinkled peace- 
 fully in the high heavens and from afar came 
 the howling of the jackals and the roaring of 
 a lion. 
 
 He cast his face upon his arm and burst into 
 tears. Like a petulant child; and like a child, 
 too, he fell asleep in his tears. 
 
 His slumber was restless and short. Queer 
 dreams wove and interwove themselves in his 
 mind, and on waking he could not recall them. 
 And he knew that not even in his dreams had 
 God revealed Himself. His heart became very 
 heavy, and he accompanied his morning pray- 
 ers with deep sobs. Athaliah's figure was as if 
 veiled by a cloud; that which had driven him 
 into the desert had disappeared and been for- 
 gotten. Now he had one great yearning: to 
 experience a moment of revelation, — to hear 
 God's voice, God's word. With sighs and 
 tears he proceeded further into the desert, to 
 torture his body with prayer and fasting. He
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST 115 
 
 strode along In expectancy, his eyes directed to 
 heaven, his ears wide open. Often he would 
 stop short with bated breath, for It seemed to 
 him that already he saw or heard something. 
 Each time, however, after a brief waiting, he 
 would continue on his way with a deep groan. 
 
 His prayers did not cease. "From the depths 
 of my heart I call out to Thee, Oh God. Lord, 
 hear my entreaty, and bend Thine ear to the 
 voice of my supplications." And he discoursed 
 learnedly with God. He believed In Moses and 
 the Prophets. He knew for a surety that God 
 had discovered Himself to them and had spok- 
 en to them. But If He spoke to these others 
 and revealed his will, then why not to himf If 
 he was unworthy of this grace, he wished to 
 know why. If none might look upon God and 
 remain thereafter alive, he did not care. He 
 was ready to die. With all his heart he desired 
 such a death. Almighty God, this very mo- 
 ment. 
 
 He stopped and waited. Sadly he then con- 
 tinued on his way. At last he began to call.
 
 ii6 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 "God, if Thou Thyself desirest not to reveal 
 Thyself unto me, then send me Thy messen- 
 ger!" 
 
 But day after day passed by. He travelled 
 the length and breadth of the desert; his body 
 became cadaverous, his face sunken, and his 
 weary, extinguished eyes sat in deep sockets. — 
 Then he turned back to the city, which was 
 much agitated by his disappearance, and where 
 he was received with cries of fright and wring- 
 ing of hands because of his wretched appear- 
 ance. With still greater fright did they leave 
 him, for he refused to reply to all questions; 
 his mouth was sealed, his look severe and dis- 
 tant. His wife and children, and all his friends 
 in the city went about distracted and in de- 
 spair, for they could not tell what was the 
 trouble with the aged High Priest. The only 
 words he vouchsafed were addressed to the 
 guardian of the keys, from whom he took the 
 key to the Temple, admonishing him to permit 
 none to follow the High Priest. The entire
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST 117 
 
 city was plunged Into deeper consternation than 
 ever. 
 
 IV 
 
 Only once per year — on the Day of Atone- 
 ment — was the High Priest permitted to enter 
 the Holy of Holies, the most sacred room of 
 God's house. Only this once, without being 
 punished on the spot by a bolt from the Al- 
 mighty. Yet it was to the Holy of Holies that 
 Johanan now directed his steps. He desired to 
 see God, and death held no terrors for him. 
 His heart was embittered, his spirit downcast. 
 He was not of God's chosen few. What mat- 
 tered to him a continuance of life in unworthi- 
 ness? 
 
 He prepared himself with ablutions and per- 
 formance of sacrifice, and clothed himself in 
 white. Before the entrance to the Holy of 
 Holies he paused for a moment. In fear, but 
 also in expectation : perhaps God would yet 
 send him a token. It was everywhere so still, 
 and the semi-darkness of the room in which 
 he stood was as though peopled with spirits.
 
 ii8 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 He looked in horror about him and his heart 
 beat wildly. He did not retreat, however, nor 
 did he desist from his firm purpose. With un- 
 bending will, yet with trembling hand, he 
 opened the heavy door to the Holy of Holies, 
 and dashed, rather than walked, into it. His 
 eyes were as if dazzled, his legs sagged beneath 
 him, his heart was almost rent. He leaned 
 against the wall to keep from falling. He 
 neither saw nor heard anything. He stood 
 rooted in great terror. 
 
 Gradually he recovered his composure. How 
 long had he been there? And he was still 
 alive? His eyes opened wide with astonish- 
 ment; he tore himself away from the wall and 
 surveyed his surroundings. All was silent and 
 calm in the dark solitude of the room. The 
 Satijah stone, the Rock of the World, which 
 stood there in place of the vanished Holy Ark, 
 he felt rather than saw. Silence. A vast si- 
 lence. He rolled his eyes about, listening in- 
 tently. Nothing. Four bare walls, the Satijah 
 Stone and he alone. And nothing else. He
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST 119 
 
 cried aloud with amazement. And his present 
 stupefaction was even greater than his previous 
 terror. He straightened himself out, proud 
 and arrogant. His countenance grew stern 
 and ireful. He began, from force of habit, to 
 go out with his back to the entrance and with 
 his face to the Ark, but at once he wheeled 
 about and with firm steps left the Holy of 
 Holies and the Temple. 
 
 He went to Athaliah, the beloved of Jason, 
 son of Meshulem. 
 
 She looked at him in surprise and fright. 
 The High Priest in her home ! 
 
 "I have come for your love," he said. 
 
 She screamed and recoiled from him with 
 hand upraised to defend herself. 
 
 "I am handsome and strong and capable of 
 inspiring a woman's passion. You yourself 
 said so, and I have come for your love." 
 
 She tried to flee but firmly he barred her way. 
 
 "I have had nothing of all my life. Nothing 
 of my beauty and strength. Your own Jason 
 said so. Now I desire to enjoy what I have
 
 120 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 missed as long as strength and beauty remain 
 with me." 
 
 She wished to make an outcry, but her throat 
 was as if tightened with fetters. 
 
 He embraced her with a powerful arm and 
 she turned and writhed as though a snake were 
 coihng about her. 
 
 And he spoke : 
 
 *'I have come for your love. Are you afraid 
 of me? Do I arouse your aversion? Am I 
 too old for you? My white hair recalls the 
 snowy cold of death. But I still live and am 
 strong and passionate, and I have come for 
 your love." 
 
 Athaliah, ghastly pale, squirmed in his arms 
 and gasped, in fright and loathing. "Let me 
 gol Let me go!" 
 
 But he took her in his arms and with his keen 
 eyes seemed to devour her beauty. 
 
 "I'll have your love. You shall have to be- 
 long to me. If not willingly, then by force. I 
 am all-powerful; you know that. Your life is 
 in my hands, and the life of your sweetheart,
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST 121 
 
 and the life of all those near and dear to you." 
 Athaliah now regained her voice. "No! 
 No!" she shrieked. "Kill me! Slay me 
 alone!" 
 
 "You shall belong to me. I do not wish your 
 death. I desire you in your living beauty. 1 
 am very wealthy, — the richest of all our peo- 
 ple. I will clothe you in gold and silver, and 
 bedeck you with precious stones. Ask what you 
 wish and it shall be granted. Why do you 
 fear me so? I am old in years, but strong in 
 body, and I wish to enjoy that strength. Be 
 mine and you shall never regret it." 
 
 His words, which echoed with gold, and his 
 arm, which spoke of great masculine strength, 
 changed Athaliah's mind. She became the mis- 
 tress of the High Priest, but for a few days 
 only. For a savage fury befell the High Priest; 
 he desired to enjoy the pleasures of the senses 
 more and more, and he changed his mistresses 
 every day, intoxicated with lust and wine. 
 Then, to the great horror of his people, he also 
 took to drinking.
 
 122 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 His wife, his children, and all those who 
 were truly pious and decent, together with all 
 to whom the honour of their people was very 
 dear, tried with despair in their hearts to turn 
 him from the terrible life he had begun to lead. 
 They also tried to learn how all this had so 
 suddenly come to him, — how he could so com- 
 pletely have forgotten God. But he did not 
 speak to them; he was as one dumb. And it 
 seemed that no invocation of God or the Torah 
 could touch his heart or his ear. 
 
 And many who were not decent, and to whom 
 the honour of their people was worth less than 
 the smallest coin that fell into their purses, be- 
 came his flatterers and pandered to his desires. 
 For he was prodigal with his gold, and that 
 was all they desired of him; the deeper he sank 
 into lust and dissipation, the more gold came 
 into their clutches. 
 
 Soon, however, his eighty years began to 
 tell. He grew weak and impotent, but he could 
 still guzzle and he became a disgust and a 
 fright.
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST 123 
 
 The people felt that they must be freed of 
 him, and his death was decided upon. They 
 remembered, however, what he had been for 
 eighty years and none cared to lay hands upon 
 him. It was resolved that his death should be 
 an honourable one, happening as if by accident. 
 And once, on an evening in which he had drunk 
 more than usual, he was abducted from his 
 sycophants, taken into the mountains and left 
 lying upon the brink of a precipice over a deep 
 sea. No one's hand was lifted to thrust him 
 over the edge, and with tears In their eyes and 
 sad shakings of their heads they abandoned him 
 to his fate. 
 
 He lay motionless, sunk In a deep sleep. But 
 the first rays of the rising sun awakened him. 
 He stretched out his arms as If to reach for 
 the wine that stood now always before him. 
 He grasped only the air. He groped and 
 groped about and at last opened his eyes. He 
 opened them wider and wider, distending them 
 more and more. Where was he? He looked 
 around, to this side and to that, above and be-
 
 124 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 low. He saw the abyss. Slowly and gradually 
 It dawned upon him that he lay upon the brink 
 of a high precipice. How had he come hither? 
 Who had brought him? Slowly and leisurely 
 he looked over the edge. If he should fall 
 in. . . . Then he understood. This was his 
 death-sentence. He had been condemned to 
 death and the hands of his judges were to 
 remain clean. His blood boiled. He wished 
 to arise at once, but he was not strong enough. 
 He rolled his head about, thumped the earth 
 with his fists, gnashed his teeth. Weary and 
 utterly exhausted, he remained lying there and 
 somewhat later began to gaze around him. 
 Where on earth was he? 
 
 He beheld before him a large sea girded by 
 green mountains. It looked like a huge caul- 
 dron, over which arose the queen of day, pure, 
 youthful and flaming. From the mountain for- 
 ests far and near there wafted up to her a thin 
 blue mist. The earth was uncovering itself 
 before the sun, receiving its beams with delight, 
 shouting to her in radiant green. Quite near
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST 125 
 
 to him there sparkled dazzlingly the snow- 
 capped peak of Mount Lebanon, mischievously 
 reflecting with all the colours of the rainbow 
 its lance-like rays of the sun. And the calm, 
 deep sea received into its bosom all the light 
 of heaven and earth and redoubled their splen- 
 dour. 
 
 Johanan lay and gazed without taking Into 
 account what he saw, but he was Inundated 
 with the surrounding splendour. And suddenly 
 his lips began to murmur, "Bless the Lord, O 
 my soul. O Lord, my God, Thou art very 
 great; thou art clothed with honour and maj- 
 esty. Who coverest Thyself with light as with 
 a garment; who stretchest out the heavens like a 
 
 curtain." 
 
 Thus he murmured and his spirit was not 
 with him. He did not know what issued from 
 his lips. He repeated It several times. Always 
 the same passages. "Bless the Lord, O my 
 soul. O Lord, my God, Thou art very great; 
 Thou art clothed with honour and maj-
 
 126 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 esty. . . ." And his heart became softer and 
 softer. 
 
 Then he suddenly became aware of what he 
 was saying and was startled. God's name upon 
 his lips! He, full of God, — of God, against 
 whom he had spoken, against whom he had re- 
 belled so arrogantly! He burst into tears. 
 Ever so softly, without the slightest sound, but 
 his heart was torn, rent asunder. He was 
 weeping over the last few weeks, over the 
 wretched life he had been leading, and his sub- 
 dued crying was filled with deep lamentation, 
 filled with regret and repentance, yet his eyes 
 did not turn from the great beauty and glory 
 around him. It seemed to him that now, for 
 the first time, he grasped that which all his life 
 he had not known. He who creates such a 
 wealth of beauty and splendour cannot be 
 merely austere and harsh. And in his dejection 
 he was consoled by the hope that God was 
 good, merciful and loving. 
 
 He tried to arise, return to his people and 
 tell them what he had there discovered, but his
 
 JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST 127 
 
 strength abandoned him. Then he knew that 
 his end had come. He was terrified. God! 
 Anything but to be left lying there in the ugli- 
 ness of death! But soon he composed himself. 
 He began to murmur a prayer, opening his 
 eyes wide in contemplation of God's beautiful 
 world. And when he felt that his eyes were 
 growing heavy, he made only a single move- 
 ment — and he fell like lead into the deep 
 waters.
 
 ZERUBBABEL
 
 ZERUBBABEL 
 
 I 
 
 IT came to pass In the days of Ahasuerus, — 
 that Ahasuerus who reigned from India 
 even to Ethiopia, over a hundred and seven and 
 twenty provinces. In the third year of his reign 
 he waxed wroth against Vashti his wife, be- 
 cause she had once refused to do his bidding, 
 and banished her from him. And after his 
 wrath was appeased he regretted exceedingly 
 what he had done and his heart was filled with 
 yearning for Vashti. And his servants said, 
 "Let there be fair young virgins sought for the 
 king throughout all his provinces. And let the 
 maiden who pleases the king be queen Instead 
 of Vashti." And the plan pleased the king and 
 he had it executed. 
 
 A Jewish youth dwelt in the city of Shushan, 
 
 131
 
 132 TExMPTATIONS 
 
 and his name was Zerubbabel, son of Sheal- 
 tiel. He was descended from the royal house 
 of David, — a grandchild of the last of the 
 Jewish kings, — and royal was his mien. He 
 was tall in build and broad-shouldered; in his 
 deep black eyes shone the glance of a ruler, 
 and the long black hair that flowed over his 
 neck bore witness to his strength. Whoever 
 saw him grew fond of him and was inspired 
 with respect, and the Jews were proud of him. 
 He recalled to them their independence, lost 
 but a short time since, and awoke in them 
 thoughts of a better, an independent future. 
 And there was a young Jewish maiden in Shu- 
 shan, and she was called Sheshana, and more 
 than aught else Zerubbabel loved her. She 
 was his comfort and his joy, — his solace in dark 
 moments and his rest after hard labour. Small 
 she was, and tender, with white face and black 
 tresses. Her whole soul was revealed in the 
 dark eyes under the black silken strands of her 
 lashes; a soul that was loveliness itself. Her 
 laughter was clear and sparkling, and caressed
 
 ZERUBBABEL 133 
 
 the ears of her hearers, like silks from Damas- 
 cus. Her mouth was ever open with laughter, 
 and through her half-parted lips there glistened 
 wonderfully white small teeth. 
 
 And it happened that when Ahasuerus com- 
 manded to appear before him all the fair 
 daughters of his subjects, so that he might 
 choose a wife from among them to replace 
 Vashti, Zerubbabel knew that Sheshana would 
 be the chosen one. So he concealed her in a 
 place where the king's servants would not be 
 able to discover her, and did not leave her side, 
 like a lion ready to pounce upon any one who 
 should stretch out his hand to her. 
 
 But first he said: "You are beautiful, She- 
 shana, and there is none under the sun to equal 
 you. You are the fairest of all Judea's daugh- 
 ters and in vain will they seek among other 
 tribes for another like you. A glance from you 
 is the sweetest of sensations, and a kiss from 
 your lips is eternity. Your body is like the 
 breath of a sweet flower; happy and blessed is 
 he who may enjoy it. Can it be, Sheshana —
 
 134 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 tell me — that you wish to be taken before the 
 king? And it will come about that when Ahas- 
 uerus beholds you, he will sink to his knees be- 
 fore you, as if the goddess Astaroth had ap- 
 peared before him in her fairest form. And 
 you win become the wife of the king, — reign- 
 ing as queen from India even to Ethiopia, over 
 a hundred and seven and twenty provinces. 
 Great and powerful will you become, — arbiter 
 over the life and death of all the king's sub- 
 jects, and all will tremble before you. Tell me, 
 Sheshana, and I will free you at once. I my- 
 self will open the door for you. . . ." 
 
 But she did not allow him to finish, and lay 
 her small white hand across his mouth. She 
 snuggled close to him with her tender, flower- 
 like body and rested her head upon his strong 
 bosom; her voice became frightened and tear- 
 ful. 
 
 "Why do you scare your Sheshana, you 
 wicked Zerubbabel? Picture me death and 
 annihilation, speak to me of slavery and 
 heavy chains; tell me that I shall grow ugly.
 
 ZERUBBABEL 135 
 
 with the face of a leper, and you will not 
 frighten your Sheshana so much as with your 
 tallc of the king and his kingdom. How could 
 you have spoken so? Tell me, how have I 
 sinned to deserve it? Do you not yet know, 
 then, how strong is my love for you? Tell me 
 how to give you further proof of It and I will 
 do so. Love speaks In various languages; have 
 I not spoken to you in all of them? Have I 
 not cooed to you like a dove, and have I not 
 cried with passion's fiery tongues? Have I not 
 laughed in your embraces with my clearest 
 laughter, and have I not wept for ecstasy in the 
 sweetness of my love? You wicked Zerub- 
 babel, my only one ! My love is now like a 
 stricken dove; it has lowered its wings and cast 
 down its weary head in deep mourning, and it 
 is you who have wounded it!" 
 
 She pressed Zerubbabel tightly to her, and 
 his heart shouted with delight. He did not in- 
 terrupt her speech, and every word from her 
 deep-red lips rendered his breathing more diffi- 
 cult. He was unable to speak; his breast
 
 136 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 heaved; he drank In her love with his glowing 
 eyes which were like an ocean that cannot be 
 filled. 
 
 And Sheshana threw around his neck her 
 bare white arms and whispered to him; her 
 voice was like the voice of a distant violin. 
 
 "You are my king, and my kingdom Is your 
 love. It Is greater and wealthier than that of 
 Ahasuerus. The sun never sets upon my king- 
 dom, and my rulership over it is unlimited. 
 Your powerful bosom is my firm land, and upon 
 it I build my most glorious palaces. Your eyes 
 are my seas ; I sink into them even as the sink- 
 ing sun, and like the rising sun I look out from 
 them, and my world is bathed In splendour and 
 in light. Your mighty arms are my armies, and 
 I am secure beneath their protection. I desire 
 no other kingdom, and the whole world with- 
 out you would be too small and too forlorn. 
 My beloved, my only one, my fortress and my 
 sun, protect your Sheshana, guard well your 
 queen 1" 
 
 More tightly than ever she pressed Zerub-
 
 ZERUBBABEL 137 
 
 babel to her, and his voice quivered with agita- 
 tion, and yet it spoke of his great strength. 
 
 "Zerubbabel is with you, and woe unto him 
 that dares stretch out his arm toward you, even 
 though it be the king himself. But speak to 
 me, Sheshana, speak to me, my glorious maiden. 
 Open up Paradise to me with your words, and 
 I become the god who dwells therein. Coo to 
 me, my little dove, and ^11 my heart with 
 blessedness." 
 
 And Sheshana laughed with her clearest 
 laughter, whispering then, "Small is Sheshana, 
 but great is her love, boundless as the sea. But 
 Sheshana asks for reward, and she languishes 
 for a kiss !" 
 
 Zerubbabel clasped her to him with fiery pas- 
 sion; more fiery still was his kiss. For a long 
 time he did not remove his lips from her own, 
 and it was as if in that kiss he lived out his 
 entire life. Again and again they united in 
 their kisses, and Sheshana laughed with her 
 clearest laughter. All at once she threw back 
 her head and raised to his eyes her enchanting
 
 138 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 glance; playful and infinitely sweet was her 
 voice. "And what would Zerubbabel do if 
 Sheshana were to go off to King Ahasuerus?" 
 
 Zerubbabel felt a tremor in all his limbs, and 
 he closed his eyes. Soon he opened them and 
 his glance had become sinister. He embraced 
 her firmly, as if to shield her so that none might 
 take her away; his voice was hard. "I know 
 a huge cliff, high above a deep abyss. Upon 
 that cliff would Zerubbabel climb, and up there 
 would he cry out his infinite grief. And the 
 rock would crumble to dust from his cries and 
 would disappear Into the abyss with Zerub- 
 babel." 
 
 Now Sheshana felt a tremor in all her 
 limbs; her countenance blanched and her lips 
 could scarcely move. "Forgive me, dear, for 
 having spoken thus." And Zerubbabel clasped 
 her to him with all the strength of his passion; 
 his eyes burned; he pressed his fiery kiss upon 
 her lips. "You are mine, mine alone, for all 
 eternity!"
 
 ZERUBBABEL 139 
 
 II 
 
 According to the tale, King Ahasuerus select- 
 ed as his wife Esther, the cousin and foster- 
 daughter of Mordecai, the son of Jair. And 
 Haman, the son of Hammedatha the Aggagite, 
 became the favourite of King Ahasuerus, who 
 set his seat above all the princes that were with 
 him. And all the king's servants that were in 
 the king's gate bowed and reverenced Haman. 
 Except Mordecai. This angered the son of 
 Hammedatha, and his heart was filled with 
 wrath. But he scorned to wreak vengeance on 
 Mordecai alone. His rage was like a sea that 
 overflows its shores; in this sea he desired 
 to drown and destroy the entire Jewish people. 
 Then he came before the king and asked of him 
 permission to annihilate the Jews. He offered 
 ten thousand talents of silver and spoke plain 
 words. 
 
 "There is a certain people scattered abroad 
 and dispersed among the people in all the 
 provinces of your kingdom. And their laws
 
 140 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 are diverse from all people; neither keep they 
 the king's laws: therefore it is not for the 
 king's profit to suffer them." This was poison 
 in the king's ears, — poison in his heart, and he 
 even renounced the money. He took his ring 
 from his hand and gave it to the Aggagite to 
 do with the Jews as his heart desired. Where- 
 upon Haman issued a decree in the name of the 
 king, sealed with the king's ring, to all the 
 hundred and seven and twenty provinces of 
 King Ahasuerus, to destroy, to kill and cause to 
 perish all Jews, both young and old, little chil- 
 dren and women, in one day, upon the thirteenth 
 of the twelfth month, which is the month Adar. 
 The Jews learned of all that had been 
 planned and a great terror descended upon 
 them; their fright knew no bounds. They 
 raised a loud and bitter cry, rent the clothes 
 upon them and put on sackcloth with ashes. 
 They sought counsel but found it not. Who 
 would save them from certain death? Where 
 should they turn and whither should they go? 
 Where could they hide and whither might they
 
 ZERUBBABEL 141 
 
 flee? In their great terror and in their great 
 misfortune they raised their eyes to Queen 
 Esther. Esther must help them, — Esther, the 
 Jewish daughter upon the royal throne. And 
 Mordecai, her cousin, turned to her, asking that 
 she go to the king and make supplication to him 
 for her people. Esther could not make up her 
 mind, because whosoever came unbidden before 
 the king was put at once to death, and she had 
 not been summoned to him for thirty days. 
 
 Mordecai sent sharp words to her. 
 
 "Think not that you of all the Jews will es- 
 cape because you are in the king's house. For 
 if you altogether hold your peace, then shall 
 help and deliverance come to the Jews from an- 
 other place; but you and your father's house 
 shall be destroyed; and who knows but that you 
 ascended to royal power for just such a time as 
 this?" 
 
 Then Esther bade them return Mordecai this 
 answer: 
 
 "Go, gather together all the Jews that are 
 present in Shushan, and fast for me, and neither
 
 142 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 eat nor drink three days, night or day; I also 
 and my maidens will fast likewise; and then 
 will I go in to the king, despite the law. And 
 if I perish, I perish." Mordecai went his way 
 and did according to all that Esther had com- 
 manded him. The Jews assembled in their 
 meeting-house in Shushan, weeping, fasting, 
 wailing and hoping in Esther. And when any 
 one opened the door and came in, he was 
 greeted with tear-stifled voices : "What says 
 Esther? What does Esther? What news of 
 Esther?" 
 
 Ill 
 
 But Zerubbabel, when he learned of Haman's 
 decree, neither rent his garments nor covered 
 his head with ashes. His locks spread even 
 more spiritedly over his neck and his eyes 
 blazed with a wild wrath. His hands rolled 
 up into iron fists and he fluttered them in the 
 air like the wings of an eagle. He raised his 
 voice, and it was like the voice of thunder. 
 
 "Oh, they shall regret it! The Jewish
 
 ZERUBBABEL 143 
 
 people is to them a shattered heap, easy to 
 destroy and to annihilate, a mob without rights, 
 to whom each may do as he pleases. But they 
 will learn that it is not as they have imagined. 
 They will pay too dearly for every Jewish life, 
 and our defeat will be their greatest disaster. 
 They shall regret it! They shall regret it!" 
 And as he spoke with head raised proudly 
 erect, waving fists that had hardened to steel 
 and iron, there arrived a messenger, bringing 
 him report of the conversation between Mor- 
 decai and Esther and calling him to the meet- 
 ing-house, where all Jews were beginning to 
 assemble, to fast for Esther three days and 
 three nights. Zerubbabel's eyes lighted up 
 with fury and he said to the messenger, "Go tell 
 him who sent you that the fate of a people can- 
 not depend upon a woman and the extent to 
 which she pleases her husband. Go tell him 
 that now is no time for fasting and weeping. 
 With weapons in their hands will they destroy 
 the Jews; with weapons in their hands must 
 the Jews make their stand." And to those
 
 144 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 near him he turned, saying, "You have heard 
 what I said. Go and spread it among the 
 people, that thus spoke Zerubbabel, the son of 
 Shealtiel the son of Jehoiachim, King of Jeru- 
 salem : 'Let them gather in the meeting-house 
 if they will; not to fast or weep, however, but 
 to consider means of defence.' " 
 
 But those about him did not obey him will- 
 ingly, and one of them said, "Let us wait and 
 see what Esther can do." Zerubbabel grew red 
 with anger and cried to the speaker, "One can 
 see that you are the son of a servant and your 
 soul is the soul of a born slave. Out of my 
 sight and let me never see you again!" And 
 his messengers departed from him to spread his 
 words among the people, doing so, however, 
 with shrugging of the shoulders and hidden 
 laughter. And Zerubbabel arose and himself 
 went to the meeting-house, to summon the Jews 
 to battle and self-defence. On the way thither 
 he visited many houses, finding in the majority 
 of them only women and children or aged and 
 infirm persons who could not move their limbs.
 
 ZERUBBABEL 145 
 
 For all the men, young and old, who possessed 
 any strength in their loins, were gathered In 
 the meeting-place. And everywhere he went 
 he found tears and despair, — sackcloth upon 
 their bodies and ashes upon the heads. And 
 everywhere he went he was greeted with the 
 same wailing, stammered question: What was 
 Esther doing? Did he not have news of her? 
 Or hadn't the king summoned Esther to him? 
 And when he began to speak of battle and self- 
 defence he was looked upon as if he spoke an 
 unknown language. 
 
 One very old man said to him, with lips that 
 scarcely could move and In a voice barely aud- 
 ible, "You speak of resistance and self-defence. 
 Young man, I knew your grandfather Jehoi- 
 achim and your granduncle Zedeklah. They, 
 too, gave battle and raised their heads against 
 Nebuchadnezzar, and the result was our exile. 
 No, my young man, summon not to battle and 
 self-defence. We must fast, only fast, and 
 Queen Esther will come to our rescue." And 
 Zerubbabel realised that as the old man spoke.
 
 146 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 so spoke all his people, and he departed for the 
 meeting-house, with lowered head and lagging 
 step. 
 
 IV 
 
 Zerubbabel stopped upon the threshold of 
 the meeting-house and surveyed the great as- 
 sembly. And when he saw the men with tear- 
 stained eyes and with their hands upon their 
 heads, his eyes flashed and his lips turned white 
 with scorn and Ire. He was surrounded by the 
 crowd, the old men pressing close to him and 
 the young men In the rear. 
 
 "What have you brought us, Zerubbabel?" 
 the old men asked. "Open your lips and tell 
 us what news of Esther and what do you know 
 of her?" 
 
 The questions were to his anger like oil upon 
 flames, and he opened his mouth to speak harsh 
 words. "Why do you ask me of Esther? 
 What do you wish, you greybeards, of that 
 woman? And what shall I tell you of her? — 
 Am I, then, her sweetheart, and shall I tell you
 
 ZERUBBABEL 147 
 
 of her beauty, — the sweetness of her body and 
 the charm of her love?" 
 
 The assembly gaped at him in stupefaction, 
 and the elders spoke again to him: "What 
 has come over you, Zerubbabel, and what have 
 you on your heart? You are wroth and speak 
 harsh words to us. Or can it be that you do 
 not know what has happened? That a great 
 disaster impends over the Jews, — complete an- 
 nihilation? And who can help us if not Queen 
 Esther? Or do you know another aid? Speak, 
 and we will hear." 
 
 Zerubbabel rose to his full height; his eyes 
 lighted up, and his voice was as hard as steel 
 and iron. "Yes, I know another aid, and I 
 have come to tell it to you. It lies within you, 
 — in your courage and in your arms I" 
 
 His hearers received his words, mouths 
 agape with surprise and astonishment; Zerub- 
 babel spoke further and his voice throbbed 
 with warmth "Why do you eye me so? Or 
 can you have misunderstood me? Your salva- 
 tion lies In you alone, — in your courage and in
 
 148 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 your arms. Why have you so yielded to 
 despair? And why have you covered your- 
 selves with ashes; wherefore your fasting? 
 Are you weakening your bodies so as to make 
 the work of your enemies all the more easy? 
 I tell you, rather arm yourselves. Gird your 
 loins and strengthen your muscles. Instead 
 of wringing your hands over your heads and 
 despairing, learn how to brandish a sword; in- 
 stead of blinding your eyes with tears, teach 
 them to aim an arrow. Be not like sheep who 
 are easily led to the slaughter, but like lions 
 that stand forth against their pursuers. It is 
 only a game for one to seize a sheep and kill it, 
 but the heart of the lion-hunter trembles, and 
 only one out of a thousand can hunt lions. You 
 sit and weep and fast and torture yourselves, 
 and our enemies will mock and laugh. 'We 
 need not whet our swords,' they will say. 
 'With our dog-whips we'll be able to strike dead 
 the starved and terrified Jews.' And they will 
 praise Haman for the permission he secured 
 from the king and must even now be rejoicing
 
 ZERUBBABEL 149 
 
 beforehand over the Jewish property that will 
 so easily be surrendered to them. But if they 
 learn that you propose to make a bold, heroic 
 stand against them, — that your hands are 
 skilled in wielding the sword and your eyes 
 trained to direct the dart, they will look upon 
 you with respect and admiration. They will 
 no longer laugh or mock, but will consider the 
 matter well. And they will say, 'We have per- 
 mission from Haman, but who will provide for 
 our widows and orphans in case we fall at the 
 hands of the Jews?' " 
 
 When he had spoken thus and more, the 
 elders shook their heads and the youths looked 
 at the ground in embarrassment. At last the 
 old men could restrain themselves no longer 
 and broke in upon his speech. And they said, 
 "You are young in years, Zerubbabel, and 
 speak according to your years." 
 
 Zerubbabel, however, interrupted them and 
 his voice echoed with scorn. "I am young in 
 years! How could I have failed to foresee 
 that such would be your answer 1 I am young
 
 150 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 in years! But of what avail are your grey 
 hairs, when you, too, are at a loss for counsel 
 and place your hopes upon a woman's under- 
 garment? I am young in years! But young 
 in years and even younger than I was my grand- 
 father David, yet he delivered the Jewish 
 people from Goliath. Just as you here, now, 
 so then, too, your men were in despair. They 
 were frightened and trembling and knew not 
 whither to turn for help. Then came young 
 David and brought them salvation. Young in 
 years, but he knew that a little stone, well aimed 
 and well delivered, was more effective than 
 fasting, more powerful than tears. Therefore 
 I say to you, why do you reckon my years for 
 me? See, I bring you deliverance. Be not 
 like women, — 'cry babies' who begin to weep at 
 whatever happens to them. Be men, who feel 
 the strength of their arms and the power of 
 their loins. Come, let us cry out a manifesto 
 in the streets: 'Haman has purchased the Jew- 
 ish people and given it over to annihilation, but 
 the Jewish people is not an object to be bought
 
 ZERUBBABEL 151 
 
 and sold, nor will It accept its destruction idly. 
 The Jews have armed themselves and they are 
 being trained for battle. And when their 
 enemies fall upon them to kill and wipe them 
 out, they will defend themselves even as the 
 lioness defends her cubs, and for every Jew 
 that perishes ten of his opponents will forfeit 
 their lives. Come, let us make public this 
 manifesto and you will see how much longer 
 the countenances of our opponents become and 
 how downcast they will look. Cast off your 
 sackcloth, I tell you; wipe off your ashes and 
 straighten out your shoulders. Gird your loins 
 and take double-edged swords in your hands. 
 And you will see that aid will come to you, and 
 your blessing will fall upon Zerubbabel." 
 
 His countenance blazed like a torch and he 
 looked upon the assembly with the eyes of a 
 leader. But all eyes were turned away from 
 him and the elders shook their heads. At this 
 moment the door opened and Mordecai entered. 
 All rushed toward the newcomer, surrounding 
 him and showering him with their questions.
 
 152 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 "What says Esther?" 
 "What does Esther?" 
 "What news of Esther?" 
 
 And Mordecal, the son of Jair, was garbed 
 In sackcloth and ashes. His forehead was fur- 
 rowed with deep wrinkles and his eyes were 
 careworn. It was easily to be seen that many 
 thoughts weighed upon his mind. He opened 
 his lips and answered the questioners. "There 
 Is no news from Esther. And what would you 
 hear from her? Do you not know that she 
 asked for three days, and that this Is only the 
 first?" 
 
 All the assembled hearers bowed their heads 
 In mourning and wiped their eyes. And when 
 Modecal, with a deep sigh, sank upon a bench, 
 the entire house resounded with sighs and 
 groans from all hearts. 
 
 Zerubbabel stood alone; none looked upon 
 him. His heart was bitter to the point of cry- 
 ing out, and he would gladly have struck to right
 
 ZERUBBABEL 153 
 
 and to left with his fists; he relieved his mood 
 with a wild outburst of laughter. All eyes were 
 directed to him in astonishment, and Mordecai 
 spoke. "Zerubbabel, arrayed In his finest 
 clothes, laughs with such incisive laughter. — 
 What ails him?" 
 
 Those about Mordecai stepped back, as If 
 to open a path for Zerubbabel, that he might 
 approach Mordecai. Zerubbabel, however, did 
 not stir from his place. Brimming over with 
 scorn and bitterness he cried, "Tell him what 
 ails me!" In a few words they repeated the 
 tenor of Zerubbabel's speech, saying that he 
 summoned his people to battle and counselled 
 them not to place their faith in Esther. 
 
 Mordecai raised his glance to Zerubbabel; 
 both men eyed each other like two enemies 
 measuring each other's strength. Then Mor- 
 decai spoke, emphasising every word. "In 
 every age there are certain persons who Imagine 
 that the easiest way to break a wall is with one's 
 head." 
 
 Zerubbabel answered with aversion and
 
 154 TEIVIPTATIONS 
 
 mockery. "But not every age has the mis- 
 fortune to possess a leader with the timidity of 
 a weak woman, who can only raise his hands 
 to his head and cry bitterly!" 
 
 The gathering turned its glances from Mor- 
 decai to Zerubbabel and from Zerubbabel to 
 Mordecai. It was as if two gladiators had 
 stepped forth into the arena to wrestle and 
 seek victory. And the onlookers became en- 
 tirely absorbed in the scene about to take place, 
 forgetting their great misfortune. Yet they 
 crowded more closely about Mordecai, as 
 though expecting protection from him against 
 Zerubbabel. 
 
 Mordecai felt that all were with him and 
 none was with Zerubbabel, so he uttered cutting 
 words. "Better a weak old woman as a leader 
 than a madman who Inspires to impossibilities. 
 The weakest of women may prevent a calamity, 
 but the most insignificant madman can bring 
 down upon his people the most grievous of dis- 
 asters. I do not desire to Insult you, Zerub- 
 babel, but what you counsel Is sheer madness."
 
 ZERUBBABEL 155 
 
 Zerubabbel replied bitterly: "Woe unto the 
 people to whom it is preached that self-defence 
 is madness, and greater woe still unto the people 
 among whom such preachment finds ready ears. 
 Such a people is a heap of dead bones, from 
 which all signs of life have fled." 
 
 Mordecai interrupted him with a calm, self- 
 confident voice. "Who says that self-defence 
 Is madness? Am I not, then, for self-defence? 
 Do I desire, then, that we exterminate ourselves 
 before the enemy attacks us? Do I wish, in- 
 deed, that we cease to be? Do I not yearn to 
 rescue our people? Let our people defend it- 
 self; but the means of self-defence are various, 
 and your way, Zerubbabel, is folly." 
 
 Zerubbabel stood there, looking at Mordecai 
 as if he had not understood, and he asked, in 
 great surprise, with a quivering voice, "How 
 long has the self-defence of a people meant the 
 pretty face of a young woman? Is Esther's 
 body our self-defence?" 
 
 Again Mordecai replied calmly and con- 
 fidently. "You understand by self-defence
 
 156 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 only the power of our arms, while I term self- 
 defence the power of beauty and the power of 
 money likewise. You are young, Zerubbabel, 
 and surely you know the power of beauty. Say, 
 Is it not the surest way? The king's heart can 
 be purchased for us with beauty, and Esther 
 must do it. Is not Esther my uncle's daughter? 
 Was she not to me even as my own child? Is 
 she not the flesh and blood of all of us? And 
 yet we told her to risk her life and go unbidden 
 to the king; and should her beauty not win the 
 king and should she as a consequence be put 
 to death, then we will choose still another Jew- 
 ish daughter, — one even more beautiful. And 
 even if we should have to sacrifice all our Jew- 
 ish daughters and sisters and wives, we will 
 do so, despite the great grief it will cause us 
 and the heaviness of the blow. Is not that, 
 too, self-defence? And when our beauty has 
 proved unsuccessful, we will defend ourselves 
 with our money, with our possessions. Haman 
 purchased us with ten thousand silver talents; 
 then we can buy ourselves free for twenty,
 
 ZERUBBABEL 157 
 
 thirty, forty. From time immemorial these 
 have been the surest means of self-defence. 
 Was not our father Jacob freed from his 
 brother Esau by his possessions? Did not also 
 your great-great-grandfather, King Asa, save 
 himself from Baasha, King of Israel, through 
 bribing Benhadad, King of Aram? And did not 
 Judith with her beauty rescue the Jews from 
 Holof ernes? Your self-defence, on the con- 
 trary, is self-destruction. Small and few are 
 we among the peoples of the hundred and seven 
 and twenty provinces. Who will fear our 
 weapons? Who will be impressed by our 
 arms? And it may come to pass, moreover, 
 that if the king learns that Jews are arming 
 themselves, he will send against us his power- 
 ful army, trained in warfare; and there will not 
 be a vestige left of our people. Would you 
 have it thus, Zerubbabel?" 
 
 Zerubbabel made answer in loud and bitter 
 tones: "Shame upon you and upon all who 
 side with you ! Shame upon the whole Jewish 
 people which beholds its salvation in money and
 
 158 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 its self-defence In the beautiful bodies of its 
 daughters ! Now will I rend my garments and 
 put on sackcloth and ashes! Now will I weep 
 and wail my bitter lamentation ! My people is 
 dead! My people is a putrefying corpse. It 
 is an abode only for worms, reptiles and In- 
 sects. All living spirits have forsaken it. 
 Where shall I find words to express my abhor- 
 rence? Where shall I find the thunder with 
 which to boom forth my wrath? Judah, 
 where are your warriors? Where are your 
 heroes, Israel? Behold who your leaders are, 
 and hear what they counsel ! In their debase- 
 ment they do not revolt against defiling their 
 most sacred possessions, and the honour of 
 their daughters is of less worth to them than 
 the meanest life! Lion of yore, you have 
 turned into a dog!" 
 
 Zerubbabel struggled for air and words failed 
 him. He rent his garments and tore his hair, 
 crying aloud and bitterly. He wrung his hands 
 high above his head and kept repeating, "Shame 
 upon them! Shame! Shame!" He left the
 
 ZERUBBABEL 159 
 
 meeting-house, his legs wavering like those of 
 a drunkard. 
 
 The men, gathered in the meeting-house, fol- 
 lowed him with frightened, astonished looks, 
 and not a mouth opened to speak a word. Only 
 Mordecai smiled and quoted the popular say- 
 ing, "Is that not correct? It is better to be a 
 live dog than a dead lion." 
 
 The assembly, however, became as If some- 
 thing had defiled it and rendered it unclean. 
 Yet none found in him the courage to follow 
 Zerubbabel. 
 
 VI 
 
 Zerubbabel went in search of Sheshana, to 
 pour out his heart to her and cry out his anger. 
 He walked with rapid strides, looking neither 
 to right nor to left, and groaned heavily: 
 "What a grievous shame! What a deep dis- 
 grace !" 
 
 Impetuously he opened the door to She- 
 shana's house, and he felt that he would throw 
 himself upon her bosom and wail out his im-
 
 i6o TEMPTATIONS 
 
 mense sorrow. He would bemoan his people, 
 which he had lost, — his veneration of it, his 
 belief in it, which had gone never to return. 
 But when he beheld Sheshana he was rooted to 
 the spot and his mouth could utter no sound. 
 She was dressed in sackcloth; she was pale, her 
 eyes red with much weeping, and her small 
 form seemed even smaller and drawn. When 
 she saw Zerubbabel she burst into loud crying 
 as if she had long repressed it. Then, as she 
 swallowed her tears, she spoke. 
 
 "You have come at last! At last you are 
 here! — I thought that something had befallen 
 you and I sent after you, but my messengers 
 could not find you. They brought me the news, 
 however, that you were safe and sound and that 
 you were running about among the people, sum- 
 moning them to armed resistance. I could not 
 believe them and told them that they brought 
 me lies. But one after another came to me 
 with the same report and I was forced to be- 
 lieve it. The world became dark and dreary 
 to me. Naughty Zerubbabel, how could you
 
 ZERUBBABEL 161 
 
 forget me at such a terrible time? How could 
 you leave me alone In an hour of peril? Don't 
 you know that your Sheshana is a timorous 
 maiden, — that her courage vanishes at the 
 slightest danger? Oh, I am frightened to 
 death! I am frightened to death!" 
 
 Zerubbabel stood as one transfixed; his eyes 
 shone like glowing coals, his glance was stern 
 and angry, and his voice was piercing. "You 
 know what I have been doing, and yet you can 
 speak to me in this manner? Zerubbabel went 
 forth to rouse the Jewish people to self-defence, 
 to armed resistance, and his Sheshana dressed 
 herself in sackcloth and ashes and succumbed 
 to fright! Can you be Sheshana? Can you 
 be my sweetheart? Was not your heart flooded 
 with courage, and did it not shout with jubila- 
 tion because Zerubbabel was not among the 
 cowards and the despairers?" 
 
 Sheshana continued to weep and kept re- 
 peating, "Oh, I am frightened to death! I am 
 frightened to death!" 
 
 Zerubbabel shook his head and smiled cyni-
 
 i62 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 cally. "I thought I should find a solace in you, 
 — a balm for my grieving heart. Sheshana will 
 understand me and will side with me, I thought, 
 and she will give me strength. But woe to my 
 wretchedness that is so great! Sheshana greets 
 me with tears, with petty fears and harsh 
 words. And she has no ears for me, — no 
 heart. . . . 
 
 Sheshana, however, raised her head, pursing 
 her lips with a surly grimace. "I can have 
 neither ears for you nor a heart. For that 
 which you desire is folly, and you are the butt 
 of all men's mockery. 'Zerubbabel is a vision- 
 ary,' they say, — a dreamer. He demands the 
 impossible and utters dangerous things. He 
 wishes to incite the scant Jewish people against 
 the numberless enemy, and calls that self-de- 
 fence. Why does he not preach, rather, that 
 great and small, men and women, — all the Jew- 
 ish people — shall cast itself into the rivers and 
 streams that flow through the hundred and 
 seven and twenty provinces?' That is what 
 they are all saying, shaking their heads at men-
 
 ZERUBBABEL 163 
 
 tlon of you. And are they not right, and do 
 they not speak with justice? Then how could 
 I feel delight, and whence should joy have 
 come to me? Because you forgot me, left me 
 all alone and went in pursuit of dangerous 
 dreams?" 
 
 Zerubbabel raised his voice and uttered sharp 
 words. "If you had flayed my body with 
 thorns and stung it with scorpions, you would 
 not hurt me so much as your words have done. 
 When all the mockers ridiculed me, my bosom 
 was filled with anger and scorn, and I felt 
 strong in my opposition. But when you joined 
 the mockery and added your voice to the laugh- 
 ter, then I became the most unhappy, the most 
 wretched man under heaven. You have be- 
 come a stranger to me, Sheshana; with your 
 words you have dug an abyss between us, and 
 when Zerubbabel has lost Sheshana, he has 
 lost his life." 
 
 With terror in her eyes the maiden cried, 
 "Oh, how can you speak like that?" 
 
 As she looked at him with her horror-
 
 i64 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 stricken countenance and her flaming cheeks, 
 Zerubbabel's heart was softened, and with a 
 passionate impulse he rushed to her, clasping 
 her to him with all his fire and tenderness. 
 "My only one, my love," he whispered, "do 
 not desert Zerubbabel. Do not mock me. Be- 
 lieve in me. Believe that I have not become de- 
 mented and that I am not a mere dreamer. Be- 
 lieve that I have been born to great deeds, and 
 I will accomplish them. I will declare war 
 against the scoffers and misleaders of the people 
 and will root them out. I will teach my people 
 to be proud, and will lead it to victory. Be 
 you the spring from which I shall drink strength 
 for my bones and power for my veins. Pour 
 courage into me and cheer my weary soul. Tell 
 me that I am right and they who scoff at me are 
 stricken with blindness. Tell me that you were 
 mistaken and that for only a moment were you 
 alienated from your Zerubbabel." 
 
 But Sheshana wept, hiding her face In her 
 hands, and murmured, "I cannot! I cannot!" 
 
 With passion more intense than ever Zerub-
 
 ZERUBBABEE 165 
 
 babel spoke to her. "See, they wish to buy 
 themselves free of danger with the body of 
 Esther. They send her to risk her life, and 
 themselves they try to save with fasting. And 
 if Esther's body avail not, they will have re- 
 course to money, or the body of some other 
 beautiful woman, or both these things together. 
 Say, Sheshana, is this not despicable? Is it 
 not base and cowardly? Everything within me 
 cries out in revolt against it; does nothing cry 
 out in you? Men — to send a woman's body 
 before them ! Sheshana, I have no words to 
 express how contemptible that is ! Do you feel 
 it, Sheshana? Do you not feel as if you had 
 been soiled, debased, spat upon? Sheshana, 
 see how my muscles stiffen, — do you see my 
 strength? I feel that my arms are giant wings 
 ready to bear my people across every abyss and 
 peril. Why do they fear to take up arms? 
 Victory or Death, but no purchasing our secur- 
 ity! Men who hide behind a woman have no 
 sense of honour, and shall my whole people con- 
 sist of such men? Shall Zerubbabel's people
 
 i66 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 lack a sense of honour? Does not your soul 
 revolt against It all, Sheshana?" 
 
 But Sheshana lay quietly in his arms, speak- 
 ing not a word. He clasped her still, looking 
 passionately into her eyes and asking as before, 
 "Tell me, Sheshana, tell me." 
 
 At last Sheshana whispered her reply: "You 
 remain with me, and let them do as they deem 
 best." 
 
 "To the shame and dishonour of the whole 
 Jewish people !" exclaimed Zerubbabel, and a 
 deep sadness suddenly came over him. 
 
 Then Sheshana spoke her tactless words; 
 "They are in the majority, and they know what 
 is for the best." 
 
 Zerubbabel recoiled as if a snake had bitten 
 him. He was at first impelled to cry with 
 bitter lamentations, but he felt a great anger 
 surging within. He placed his hand on his 
 heart and beat his breast, then all at once 
 turned to the door. He remained before it, 
 leaning heavily against it as he said, with a
 
 ZERUBBABEL 167 
 
 hoarse voice, "You will never see me again, 
 Sheshana !" 
 
 A tremor passed through her every limb; 
 filled with fright and despair she cried out, 
 "But, Zerubbabel!" 
 
 Again he murmured, "You will never see me 
 again, Sheshana I" 
 
 Terrified, again she shrieked, "But, Zerub- 
 babel!" She brought her white, shuddering 
 hands to her cheeks and her glance was that 
 of a frightened, stupefied dove. 
 
 Zerubbabel spoke with a quivering voice: 
 "I love you, and my love is as strong as death. 
 At night upon my couch I will call your name 
 and my heart will languish with yearning. I 
 will gash my body with the nails of my fingers 
 and my eyes will burn under hot tears. But 
 not you can be Zerubbabel's wife, — not you 
 the mother of his children. You will never see 
 me again, Sheshana!" 
 
 Sheshana's bosom heaved convulsively; her 
 rapid breathing was choked with tears, and her 
 shriek was heart-rending. "Zerrubbabel !"
 
 i68 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 But he had already opened the door, and 
 standing upon the threshold he turned his face 
 to the maiden and said, in firm accents, "Go 
 and learn to be Zerubbabel's wife!" Then he 
 closed the door behind him. 
 
 She screamed; it was the cry of a wounded 
 deer. She rushed to the door, but her legs 
 gave way beneath her. She stretched her 
 hands out against the closed door, groaning 
 and bemoaning her great misfortune. She 
 could not speak. Her throat was as if clamped, 
 and her tongue could not move. Only later 
 was she able to whisper the name scarce aud- 
 ibly: "Zerubbabel, Zerubbabel, Zerubbabel!" 
 Only his name could she murmur, and nothing 
 more. Then she threw herself upon the bed, 
 her hands pressed to her face, and her body 
 in a heap, and it seemed to her as if some one 
 had slapped her. 
 
 And Zerubbabel strode on through the night 
 and the gloom, far beyond the city, into deep 
 solitude, to the place where a huge cliff rose 
 high above a deep abyss.
 
 DRABKIN 
 
 A Novelette of Proletarian Life
 
 DRABKIN 
 
 A Novelette of Proletarian Life 
 
 DRABKIN was an excellent workman, — a 
 pocketbook maker whose handiwork was 
 the talk of the town. Folks praised him in his 
 presence and in his absence ; he knew his worth 
 and held his head proudly erect. It seemed to 
 him that he had been created for the express 
 purpose of speaking the truth to all employers 
 right before their very faces, and upon the 
 slightest provocation he would let them know 
 that they were living off his sweat and blood, — 
 that they were exploiters, bloodsuckers, can- 
 nibals, and so forth and so on. So that he 
 never could find a steady place, and through 
 the year he spent more days idle than at his 
 
 employment. 
 
 171
 
 172 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 The bosses pitied him. "He's a devil with 
 claws," they would say. "May no good Jew 
 know him I . . . But he has golden hands!" 
 
 "If it weren't for his crazy notions he'd be 
 rolling in money. Such a workman! His fin- 
 gers fly, as if by magic!" 
 
 Yet they could not suffer him in their shops. 
 They even feared him. He was as widely 
 known as a bad shilling, yet he was hired in the 
 hope that perhaps he had changed for the 
 better; perhaps he had calmed down and be- 
 come quieter. Moreover, it was a pity to let 
 a hand go around Idle, when he could do more 
 work in twelve hours than another could ac- 
 complish in twenty-four. But in a couple of 
 days the employer would have to confess with 
 a groan that Drabkin was the same insolent 
 chap as ever, that It was dangerous to have 
 him in a Jewish shop, because he would spoil 
 the rest of the men. So he was shown the 
 door. 
 
 He did not take this to heart. It had al- 
 ready become a game to him. He was certain
 
 DRABKIN 173 
 
 that the employers would finally be forced to 
 come to him, because they needed him and must 
 have him. For "his fingers fly, as if by magic," 
 And he would simply smile in ironic fashion 
 and pierce the bosses with a look that caused 
 them to shiver in their boots. 
 
 "What? You don't like my ditty?" he 
 would ask. "You're punishing me for telling 
 the truth, ha? Exploiters! Vampires!" 
 
 "You ought to be put into prison, or into the 
 madhouse," they would reply. "You're a dan- 
 gerous character. You're a mad dog! . . ." 
 
 "Ah, ahem, tra-la!" he would mock, in de- 
 light. "But how do you like my work? I'm 
 a fast worker, ha?" 
 
 And how this truthful boast cut the bosses! 
 
 "May your hands be paralysed!" they would 
 answer. "If your character were only as good 
 as your workmanship, you'd be rolling in 
 money." 
 
 "Working for you people!" he would sud- 
 denly revert to his favourite theme. "With 
 a fourteen-hour day at the wages you pay,
 
 174 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 grass will soon be growing over my head. Ex- 
 ploiters! Vampires! Cannibals! . . ." 
 
 "There he goes again !" they would break 
 in. "March! Off with you. Go shout It 
 from the house-tops!" 
 
 "Ah, ahem, tra-la !" he would grunt again. 
 "You don't like It? Walt! Just wait! . . ." 
 
 At the last words he would point a warning 
 finger at them. Just what they were to wait 
 for he himself did not know, but he had a feel- 
 ing that something or other was bound to hap- 
 pen that would be not at all to the bosses' taste. 
 
 He would leave the employers triumphantly, 
 his eyes beaming with happiness, as if he had 
 just won a significant victory; with his glance, 
 as he passed along the street, he would transfix 
 every heavy paunched Jew who looked like an 
 employer of labour. And his brain teemed 
 with cutting remarks that he should have used 
 and which he would be sure to employ in the 
 very next encounter with those exploiters, those 
 bloodsuckers, those cannibals. He saw him- 
 self surrounded by a host of toilers who raised
 
 DRABKIN 175 
 
 their eyes to him as their guardian and de- 
 fender. His breast swelled with pride and 
 self-confidence and he was contented with him- 
 self. . . . 
 
 "Jilted again!" was his jocular greeting to 
 his landlady, a thin old woman, as he entered 
 the house. 
 
 She looked at him in surprise. "From what 
 gallows has he escaped in broad daylight?" 
 she queried to herself. 
 
 "Fired again?" she scolded loudly, eyeing 
 him with scorn. "The Lord protect us, what a 
 man you are !" 
 
 She shook her head, as if she had long ago 
 decided that he was a hopeless case; he was a 
 good-for-nothing in the first place and a good- 
 for-nothing he would remain. She turned 
 away with a depreciatory curl of her lips. The 
 wrinkles on her face, which was as dry and 
 yellow as parchment, became even deeper. 
 
 "I gave them a bawling-out, all right!" he 
 chuckled, while his eyes sparkled with joy. 
 
 "Much satisfaction that is!" replied the old
 
 176 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 woman, sarcastically. "They must have taken 
 it terribly to heart! Upon my word!" 
 
 "Such exploiters, — vampires, — cannibals. 
 The world Isn't enough for them!" he con- 
 tinued, unmindful of her words. "Do you 
 think I'm going to be afraid of them? What? 
 Do you Imagine we're going to let them fatten 
 on our sweat and blood, and look on In silence? 
 Bah! Not a bit of it! I refuse to be silent! 
 Such exploiters, cut-purses! I refuse to be 
 silent! . . ." 
 
 "Psh! As bold as a Cossack!" she ridiculed. 
 "But what satisfaction did you get? It was 
 you who was chased out! You, with your 
 'splolters' and your 'poiters' ! . . ." 
 
 She was angry with the word, which she did 
 not understand. She even thought that If It 
 had not been for that word Drabkin would 
 not have come to sorrow. 
 
 She was ready to spit contempuously upon the 
 floor and leave him. But Drabkin seized upon 
 her last words.
 
 DRABKIN 177 
 
 "Chased out? Not so quick, my dear! 
 They don't chase me out in a hurry I" 
 
 "They're afraid of you, I suppose!" she 
 snarled. "I wouldn't let you cross my thres- 
 hold!" 
 
 "Well, you see that they do!" he boasted. 
 
 "Wild man!" she commented in disgust. 
 
 "Aha!" was his victorious response. 
 
 After that "aha" the old woman spoke no 
 more. She spat out in scorn, adjusted the scarf 
 over her wig and walked away from him. 
 
 " 'Sploiters, poiters.' " She continued to 
 repeat the evil word to herself with anger.
 
 II 
 
 BUT he was vied in an utterly different 
 light by Chashke, the old woman's daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 When she returned at evening from work — 
 she was a dressmaker — her mother met her 
 with this greeting: 
 
 "He's sitting around idle again." 
 
 And she nodded her head in the direction of 
 Drabkin's room. 
 
 "Well, what of it?" asked the daughter, re- 
 moving her cloak. 
 
 The old woman was taken aback by the 
 girl's retort and was at a loss whether or not 
 to reply. She was surprised that the news did 
 not affect her daughter. 
 
 At this moment Drabkin came out of his 
 room. 
 
 "I'm home again!" he announced, merrily. 
 
 178
 
 DRABKIN 179 
 
 "What's happened to you to-day?" asked 
 Chashke. 
 
 "What's happened? What should happen? 
 It happened! They're a pack of blood-suck- 
 ers, exploiters, and that's all!" he exclaimed, 
 hotly. 
 
 " 'Splolters, polters,' " Interrupted the old 
 woman, mockingly. 
 
 "But why should you have thrown up your 
 job on this particular day?" asked Chashke, not 
 heeding her mother's sarcasm. 
 
 "Why? Because!" he shouted. "Why! I 
 can't look upon their actions In cold blood. It's 
 inhuman ! It's murderous ! Ephraim Is sup- 
 posed to work till nine o'clock at night and he 
 works till half past ten; when he came to work 
 this morning at half past seven, they fell upon 
 him like a mad dog and. . . ." 
 
 "Isn't It his granny's worry?" Interjected the 
 old woman. 
 
 "I can't bear such things. I can't look on In 
 silence. So I gave it to them! . . ."
 
 i8o TEMPTATIONS 
 
 "Pshl Their shirts turned to linen! How 
 they must have trembled before you!" 
 
 But Chashke cast an angry look at her 
 mother. 
 
 "What then?" she asked, contemptuously: 
 "Are the workingmen to suffer such things 
 without a word of protest?" 
 
 "Let Ephraim holler for himself. Why 
 need he do the shouting?" replied the old 
 woman. 
 
 "And suppose Ephraim is a meek little lamb? 
 And suppose Ephraim allows everybody to 
 walk all over him?" cried Drabkin, springing 
 to his feet, his countenance burning with in- 
 dignation. 
 
 Chashke eyed her mother with ironic tri- 
 umph. 
 
 "Then let him lie in the earth, let him rot, if 
 he's such a fool," retorted the old woman. 
 
 "I can't hold my tongue when I see things 
 like that," said Drabkin, his voice somewhat 
 softer.
 
 DRABKIN 181 
 
 "Then you He In the earth, too, and rot away, 
 if you're such a fool!" 
 
 "But there's no need of cursing," interposed 
 the daughter, angrily. 
 
 "Bah ! You're no better than he is !" 
 
 "Don't you lilie it?" 
 
 But Drabkin would not permit matters to 
 grow into a quarrel, 
 
 "I can't look on in silence . . ." 
 
 He launched into a discussion at the top of 
 his voice. In the first place, Ephraim was 
 really as meek as a lamb ; you could do with him 
 whatever you wished, and he would offer no 
 remonstrance. In the second, he wasn't much 
 of a workman, and if he were discharged from 
 one place, he could not find another position in 
 a hurry. So that he was simply afraid to talk 
 back. But he, Drabkin ! He couldn't see 
 such doings and remain quiet! He had little 
 reason to fear the bosses; he defied them, — 
 the exploiters, the vampires ! The world 
 wasn't enough for them, they wanted more, 
 more. . . .
 
 i82 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 And Chashke gazed at him with eyes brim- 
 ful of love, agreed with everything he said, 
 and experienced and felt the same thoughts and 
 feelings as he. 
 
 Old Dina shook her head ironically. 
 
 "Two lunatics 1 One worse than the 
 other I . . ."
 
 Ill 
 
 DRABKIN and Chashke were considered 
 sweethearts. "A love-affair," every- 
 body would laugh. The bells rang, but It was 
 no holiday, that Is, It was merely a rumour. 
 
 Drabkin was a handsome fellow. Of 
 medium build, broad-shouldered, a fair, round 
 face framed In a little blonde beard; a medium- 
 sized mouth with thin, blood-red lips, above 
 which lay a thick moustache, a well-carved nose, 
 a high, broad forehead and a round head cov- 
 ered with long, thick, dark brown hair. His 
 dark grey eyes sparkled continuously. Young 
 girls would fall In love with him at first sight. 
 But he paid no attention to girls. He knew 
 very few of them and had little to do with them. 
 He was always absorbed In his "exploiters"; 
 he was not even aware of Chashke's loving 
 
 glances. He liked to talk with her, because 
 
 183
 
 i84 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 she sympathised with him. She understood him 
 and agreed with him. He could talk and talk, 
 with her forever, without getting weary. But 
 marriage was far from his thoughts — 
 
 Chashke, too, was a beautiful girl. 
 
 "If my Chashke should put on fine clothes," 
 the old woman would say, "you couldn't look 
 into her face any more than you can look 
 straight into the sun." Of course she exag- 
 gerated a trifle, just like a mother, but by no 
 means did she lie when she spoke thus. Chashke 
 was somewhat shorter than Drabkin ; thin, with 
 sunken cheeks and a flat bosom. But she pos- 
 sessed an exquisite waist, a pretty mouth with 
 charming lips, a straight nose, small ears and a 
 fair forehead. But most beautiful of all were 
 her long black tresses and her blue eyes. 
 
 If she had only possessed a dowry, she would 
 have been seized upon long before, but she did 
 not own even a good dress. So the young fel- 
 lows hovered about her for the mere sake of 
 her company, paid her compliments, which she 
 received, however, with a silent smile, and tried
 
 DRABKIN 185 
 
 to play with her hands, which she would bash- 
 fully withdraw. She acquired a reputation as 
 a "touch-me-not," and the reason for this atti- 
 tude was popularly attributed to the soft spot 
 in her heart for Drabkin. 
 
 And she really loved him. But it seemed to 
 her that Drabkin would never marry. "He has 
 no use for it." Never had he offended her 
 with a word, let alone a touch. He always 
 spoke to her only about "his interests," about 
 justice and injustice, — sought the truth among 
 folks and failed to find it At such times he 
 would spurt flames, thump the table and run 
 madly about the room. "No," she would tell 
 herself. "He will not, he should not, he must 
 not marry I" 
 
 But suppose he 5/io«/</ marry her? . . . Oh, 
 what a life would be hers ! She would work, 
 — work ever so hard, enough for two, and he 
 was earning good money, besides. But she 
 would not interfere with him in any way. Not 
 in the slightest. Let him remain just as he was. 
 ,\ precious soul, indeed 1 Ah, Lord of the
 
 i86 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 universe, what a happy existence they'd 
 lead! . . . 
 
 But no! . . . Soon children would come. 
 . . . She would not be able to work. Her 
 mother . . . 
 
 "God, God in Heaven, why do you visit such 
 punishment upon the poor!" she would despair. 
 He must not, he must not marry. . . . But 
 what a happy life they would lead, what a hap- 
 py life! . . . 
 
 And she concealed her feelings from him. 
 This was exceedingly difficult. Oh, how she 
 would have loved to throw her arms about him, 
 and press him to her tightly, ever so tightly, — 
 press her very soul into him, — become together 
 with him a single being. . . . Her breath 
 would come in gasps, she would grow dizzy, and 
 her temples would throb with hammer blows. 
 She hardly dared sit near him, lest he discover 
 what was going on in her heart. And suppose 
 he should discover? . . . 
 
 Suppose he should discover, and embrace her,
 
 DRABKIN 187 
 
 and place his arms about her neck, and kiss her, 
 caress her, squeeze her! . . . 
 
 A strangely sweet sensation would ripple 
 over her body, until she began to tremble. 
 
 He was standing so close to her. She could 
 almost feel his breath. And she watched every 
 movement of his, read his eyes, — perhaps . . . 
 
 Then she would be ashamed of herself on 
 account of her thoughts. Such impossibilities 
 as came into her head! Such selfish thoughts 
 as she could think, when he was speaking of 
 such lofty subjects! 
 
 It was altogether unbecoming. . . . Fie!
 
 IV 
 
 BUT Drabkin married. Not Chashke, but 
 a certain Chyenke, a girl with a dowry of 
 five hundred roubles. 
 
 This happened to him after a terrible fit of 
 fury against all the bosses in the world. He 
 came to a great determination: he would him- 
 self become a boss. 
 
 "Let all trace of them be wiped off the face 
 of the earth, — the exploiters!" he cried, run- 
 ning up and down the room. "Let no memory 
 of them remain, — the vampires ! May they be 
 sown thickly and grow up sparse, the canni- 
 bals! Enough! All over! I'll become a boss 
 myself! . . ." 
 
 He became silent, but continued to pace 
 about. He was planning. 
 
 "He'll become a boss!" scoffed the old 
 woman. "A bosh, you mean!" 
 
 l88
 
 DRABKIN 189 
 
 She broke into cutting laughter. Chashke 
 looked at her uneasily. 
 
 "For myself, in business only for myself," he 
 spoke, meditatively. 
 
 "Ha-ha ! He'll have to pawn his breeches," 
 laughed the old woman. 
 
 And Chashke transferred her uneasy look 
 to Drabkin. She had at once begun to wonder 
 how he was going to make even a start. 
 
 "Never mind. I'll get money!" he assured 
 them. "I can get ten times as many partners as 
 I need. Everybody knows what an expert 
 worker I am." 
 
 "God grant it!" answered the mother, doubt- 
 fully. She had little confidence in Drabkin. 
 But Chashke's heart was eased of a burden. 
 She believed that it would be easy for him to 
 find a partner. 
 
 He, however, found something that he was 
 not seeking. He found a bride with a dowry. 
 
 This happened just at the time when he was 
 tiring of looking about for a partner. He was
 
 iQo TEMPTATIONS 
 
 pouring out the bitterness of his heart before 
 an old friend. 
 
 "Enough! I've got the right partner for 
 youl" cried the friend. "And a partner for 
 your whole life." 
 
 Drabkin looked hard at him. 
 
 "Do you want to marry a girl with five hun- 
 dred roubles?" 
 
 Drabkin's heart sank within him. To de- 
 scend to mere matchmaking! Five hundred 
 roubles! Suddenly before his eyes appeared 
 the vision of Chashke. 
 
 "The people I'm talking about are very 
 anxious to have you," his friend was saying. 
 "A perfect doll of a girl! And clever at her 
 trade, — one out of a thousand. . . . Hush, 
 she's a pocketbook maker, just like yourself." 
 
 Drabkin was still unable to realise what it 
 was all about, and the image of Chashke con- 
 tinued to hover before his eyes. 
 
 "They're very anxious to have you," re- 
 peated his friend. "It seems to me that the 
 girl is head over heels in love with you. She 
 
 i. 
 
 &
 
 DRABKIN 191 
 
 knows you for a long time. I believe she used 
 to work with you. Well, are you willing? Just 
 say the word and one, two, — it's done. I won't 
 ask you for any marriage-broker's fee. I'll ask 
 only the honour of leading you under the can- 
 opy. Well?" 
 
 "A match?" was all Drabkin could stammer. 
 "I'll not listen to the idea! . . ." 
 
 "What? Don't you ever intend to marry?" 
 interrupted the other, with scorn. "Are you 
 going to enter a monastery? Don't be a fool, 
 and listen to good advice. Five hundred 
 roubles dowry, and you become a boss, with a 
 wife that'll be a true help to you. Don't waste 
 a moment thinking it over! ... As true as 
 I'm a Jew, you'll just have to marry that girl!" 
 
 His friend was getting excited. He divulged 
 the name of the prospective father-in-law, — 
 Grunim the glazier — and that of the girl — 
 Chyenke, a maiden of golden virtues, so beau- 
 tiful that Drabkin, compared with her, would 
 have to hide in the oven, — and smart? A ques- 
 tion! Just like Bileam! As decent as God has
 
 192 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 ordained, — a virtuous child, "so may I have 
 good fortune!" 
 
 His friend wrought with might and main, — 
 argued, vociferated, screamed, bellowed, thun- 
 dered, — and finally Drabkin had to adjourn 
 with him to a tavern and treat to drinks. And 
 after the first three glasses the friend ran off 
 to the girl's father. 
 
 "You'll thank me as long as you live!" was 
 his farewell to Drabkin. 
 
 Left to himself, Drabkin began to feel that 
 the match was really a windfall. Five hundred 
 roubles ! He — with five hundred roubles ! He 
 would work miracles, overturn worlds, he — 
 with five hundred roubles! . . . 
 
 And he really knew her. His friend had not 
 told many lies. She wasn't such a marvel, but 
 at the same time girls like her were not to be 
 found at every turn. Oh yes, — he recalled her 
 perfectly. She was a trifle taller than Chashke, 
 — a bit plumper, too, he imagined. ... A 
 blonde. . . . She must be quite a lively article, 
 too ... a fiery creature. 
 
 • • •
 
 DK^BKIN 193 
 
 Five hundred roubles! Why, to him that 
 meant . . . unlimited possibilities! . . . Five 
 hundred roubles. . . . Imagine, he would . . . 
 H'm ! . . . 
 
 He couldn't recall exactly, but it seemed to 
 him that she was very skilful at her work. Now 
 wait, — at whose place was It that she and he 
 had worked together? 
 
 He shut his eyes and tried to remember. 
 Was It at Abraham Baer's? Or at ... at .. . 
 Where the devil had they worked together? 
 . . . No, he could not recall it. But he re- 
 called distinctly that she was a good pocket- 
 book-maker. And once she came Into his hands 
 he'd make an expert of her. 
 
 Chashke's figure still kept looming before 
 him, yet he imagined that he was thinking of 
 Chyenke and beholding her. 
 
 When Chashke came home that evening he 
 at once related the proposed match to her and 
 asked her advice. 
 
 Chashke turned pale and then red. 
 
 "Oh, what a terrible headache I have to-
 
 194 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 day!" she answered, with a quiver in her voice. 
 
 Drabkin believed her headache. So did her 
 mother. 
 
 "Probably choked with bad air," murmured 
 the old woman. "Over In her shop they're all 
 afraid they'll freeze. Destruction seize them! 
 ril take the hot water out of the oven and 
 you'll bathe your head and feel better." 
 
 In this way she poured out her heart upon 
 the heads of Chashke's employers. For her 
 heart was sorely embittered : all along she had 
 looked upon Drabkin as her Chashke's future 
 husband. 
 
 Chashke was silent. Drabkin looked at her, 
 waiting for a reply. 
 
 "Perhaps you know this Chyenke?" he began 
 anew. "They say she's a splendid girl." 
 
 "What should I know? It looks like a good 
 proposition. Five hundred roubles. And Chy- 
 enke, from what I know of her, is really a splen- 
 did girl. Good luck to you !" 
 
 Yet at the last words her voice trembled. 
 
 The old woman spoke nothing to spoil the
 
 DRABKIN 195 
 
 match, and became enraged against Chyenke 
 and her five hundred roubles, — against Drab- 
 kin, against Chashke, against herself and her 
 whole life of poverty. She restrained her tears 
 and prepared many a complaint for the Lord 
 of the universe. 
 
 Meanwhile Drabkin was laying his plans. 
 He spoke in a merry mood and did not notice 
 the grief about him. 
 
 He noticed it, however, a few days later, 
 when he entered the house in glee and an- 
 nounced that the betrothal was to take place 
 the following day. Chashke turned pale, 
 seized her breast and nearly swooned. His 
 words died on his lips: now he understood 
 everything. 
 
 "Chashke, what's the matter?" he cried, in 
 his fright, although he knew very well what 
 was the matter. He brought her a glass of 
 water. 
 
 The old woman danced about her daughter 
 and Drabldn stood there, overwhelmed. Tears 
 came to his eyes. Now, for the first time, he
 
 196 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 understood why, in the past few days, Chashke 
 had come so often before his eyes when he spoke 
 of the other girl. For the first time he realised 
 whom he really needed. 
 
 He was seized with an impulse to rush over 
 to Chashke, embrace her, throw his arms about 
 her neck, kiss her, and swear to her that he 
 would marry only her. . . . 
 
 He dashed into his room in distraction, pale, 
 agitated. 
 
 "What madness has possessed him?" asked 
 the old woman angrily. 
 
 And Chashke began to weep even more bit- 
 terly, and pressed her breast harder than ever. 
 
 i
 
 V 
 
 DRABKIN'S wedding was postponed for 
 half a year, but the dowry of five hun- 
 dred roubles was at once placed into his hands, 
 that he might open a shop immediately. For he 
 was known by all to be an honourable man. 
 
 He bought a sewing-machine, shears, knives; 
 wooden pliers he made himself; and together 
 with his future wife he sat down to work. The 
 shop, naturally, was in her name. 
 
 He was submerged with orders. 
 
 He became a new man, — jollier, livelier, 
 more enthusiastic. He attacked his work ar- 
 duously. 
 
 It seemed that he wanted to pile up more and 
 more money. 
 
 He felt a sensation that he had never before 
 
 experienced. He had money! He had money! 
 
 He was a boss for himself ! Often he would get 
 
 197
 
 198 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 a ticklish feeling, and he would smile happily 
 and begin to hum a tune. He was superlatively 
 happy. He made plans — the dowry would 
 grow, he would accumulate heaps of money, 
 he would accomplish miracles ! . . . 
 
 "Fll show them!" he would shout, triumph- 
 antly, to nobody In particular, pushing the 
 treadle of his machine vigorously as he sewed 
 away. 
 
 "Show whom?" asked his fiancee, after he 
 had shouted his defiance for the tenth time. 
 
 "Everybody!" he replied. "They'll hear 
 from me!" 
 
 And then he would fall to explaining just 
 how he would "show them." 
 
 A single cloud, however, darkened his bright 
 sky: he longed for Chashke. Chashke was lack- 
 ing. 
 
 He would blink, screw up his eyes as he 
 smeared a thread with pitch, and gaze at his 
 betrothed, but all the time he would be think- 
 ing of Chashke, comparing her with his affi- 
 anced.
 
 DRABKIN 199 
 
 "Why do you look at me like that?" Chy- 
 enke would ask with a smile. 
 
 But he would make no reply, continuing to 
 smear his thread with pitch. 
 
 "Haven't you ever seen me before? Do 
 you want to see whether you've made a mistake 
 in choosing me?" she would continue, throwing 
 her work aside and placing her arms about his 
 neck. 
 
 But he remained silent. He stuck the thread 
 through the eye of the needle and began to sew. 
 He felt that this woman beside him was a stran- 
 ger, — that he did not even know her. 
 
 "Are you angry with me?" asked the stran- 
 ger, releasing his head and ready to become an- 
 gry herself. 
 
 "Why angry?" he replied, looking Intently 
 upon the pocketbook as he pierced it with the. 
 needle. "I looked at you. Is it forbidden me 
 to look at you?" 
 
 He would step often into Chashke's, if only 
 for a few moments. And for even these few
 
 200 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 moments they both felt heavy at heart. Both 
 stood there with tears In their eyes. 
 
 When Drabkin would come for a visit, the 
 old woman would go off into the kitchen, mut- 
 tering to herself and wrinkling her brow. 
 There she would sit down before a dingy little 
 lamp, beginning to darn a stocking and staring 
 into the semi-gloom, lost in thought of her 
 foolish, unfortunate daughter. 
 
 Drabkin, at such times, would stand by the 
 window and write upon the panes with his fin- 
 gers, or gaze vacantly before him, waiting for 
 Chashke to speak. 
 
 And Chashke sat bent over her work, and 
 something tugged, tugged away at her heart- * 
 
 strings. 
 
 She was waging a tremendous battle. She 
 wished to forget everything. All was over! 
 Too late! It was so decreed by Fate! Yet a 
 frightful, poignant yearning held her in Its grip. ; 
 
 And In the solitude of night she would moisten v 
 
 the pillow with hot tears that rolled slowly 
 down her cheeks. And often it would seem to
 
 DRABKIN 201 
 
 her that there would come a day, — who knew 
 in how many years around? — when he would 
 come falling at her feet and . . . Ah, she had 
 never thought the matter out to its con- 
 clusion. . . . 
 
 But he must not learn of her sufferings! 
 
 And Chashke would take courage, breathe 
 more easily, and be the first to speak. 
 
 "How are you getting along? Plenty of 
 work?" 
 
 Yes. On this topic he could find ever so 
 much to say. But he felt sad at heart. He then 
 replied in a nasal tone, "Nothing to complain. 
 Work is the least of my worries." 
 
 "For whom are you making purses now?" 
 she asked, ignoring his last words. 
 
 "For Etkin," he replied, curtly, as if angry 
 that she should harp on that theme. 
 
 But no, he must really tell her how, from his 
 own former employer, Mayshe Baruch, he had 
 won away as a customer the shopkeeper Etkin. 
 That was certainly interesting. And gradually 
 he became engrossed in his talk and warmed
 
 202 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 to his subject, telling how he had brought a 
 piece of his work Into Etkin's and how every- 
 body had viewed it with delight. And at once 
 he received a big order for more. And 
 Mayshe Baruch had met him and tried to in- 
 timidate him by threatening to slap his face. 
 Ha-ha-ha, he had found the right one to scare! 
 No sirree ! He'd show Mayshe ! He would 
 go in to Brzerzinski, for whom Mayshe Baruch 
 did work, and let Mayshe try to do something 
 to him! Aha! He'd put Mayshe Baruch out 
 of business in a jiffy. . . . And he was even 
 considering going in to Abraham Baer's custom- 
 ers. He had a score to settle with Abraham 
 Baer. He knew all his customers, even those 
 from out of town, and he would send quota- 
 tions for work to all of them. . . . He'd show 
 them! . . . He'd lead the bosses a merry 
 dance ! 
 
 Chashke listened with delight. But a single 
 question weighed upon her heavily; she could 
 not repress It. She lowered her head over her
 
 DRABKIN 203 
 
 work and asked, with a stifled voice, "How is 
 your Chyenke?" 
 
 He interrupted his account and suddenly be- 
 came sad once more. 
 
 "How should she be? She works." 
 
 And again he stared vacantly through the 
 window. She remained bent over her work, 
 without raising her eyes. And soon they parted, 
 with hearts as heavy as stone. . . . 
 
 But later he became so engrossed in his work 
 that he forgot the burden of his heart. He 
 grew accustomed to Chyenke and became more 
 talkative. And once he began to tell her how 
 he used to quarrel with his employers and get 
 the best of them. She laughed. Yes, she knew 
 all about him and his pranks. 
 
 "I never spoke a pleasant word to any of 
 them. Not even with the best of them," he told 
 her. "I always showed them my claws." 
 
 "I'll tell yow the truth," she asserted, with a 
 serious mien. "If I had been your employer I 
 wouldn't have let you darken my door. Even 
 if I knew that I'd make millions from you."
 
 204 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 He made no reply, working the treadle 
 faster than before, and waiting for Chyenke to 
 continue. 
 
 "It won't be like that in our shop," she added. 
 
 "Certainly not," he hastened to agree. 
 "We'll deal differently with our employes." 
 
 "Differently or not differently," she replied, 
 "if anybody tries such tricks with us, we'll take 
 him by the collar right away and down the 
 stairs he goes !" 
 
 "That's merely what you say. . . ." 
 
 "And that's exactly how it'll be," she an- 
 swered with the same gravity as before. "If 
 I'm a boss, then I must be a boss. I know. 
 I've worked for bosses, too, and have quarrelled 
 with them. And you may be sure that they 
 were In the wrong. But to fight just for the 
 fun of It! I'd like to see them try it!" 
 
 "It couldn't happen In our place," he said. 
 "I'll yield to them In everything." 
 
 "What do you mean, yield to them In every- 
 thing?" Her voice rose slightly. "Bah! Not
 
 DRABKIN 205 
 
 even a hair's breadth! Why should I treat 
 people better than I myself was treated?" 
 
 Drabkin turned pale. His hand trembled. 
 
 "We'll see about that," he answered weakly. 
 He restrained himself, but his blood was boil- 
 ing. 
 
 "What shall we see, what?" asked Chyenke. 
 "I certainly won't treat my employes any bet- 
 ter than I was treated. Why should I give in to 
 them? Let them walk all over me?" 
 
 He was silent. He was already infuriated, 
 but strove to choke back his words. He applied 
 himself industriously to his work and did not 
 utter another sound, although it was a long 
 time before Chyenke stopped talking. . . . 
 
 That night he ran to Chashke. He repeated 
 the conversation to her. 
 
 "Did you ever hear such talk?" he cried, as 
 he finished his story. 
 
 "Chyenke is as right as the day," interposed 
 the old woman. 
 
 "Did you ever hear such talk?" he repeated, 
 looking into Chashke's eyes.
 
 2o6 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 *'Well?" she queried, coldly. 
 
 "What do you mean, 'Well?' " he shouted. 
 "What do you mean by your 'Well?' " 
 
 "What do you expect? Everybody to agree 
 with you?" 
 
 "What do you mean, everybody to agree with 
 me? What do you mean?" he gesticulated. 
 "Isn't she engaged to me?" 
 
 "But you each have minds of your own and 
 hearts of your own," replied Chashke. 
 
 "He'd like his betrothed to be as stupid as 
 himself," the old woman chimed in. 
 
 "But why? How comes it that you under- 
 stand?" he insisted to Chashke. 
 
 "She always was a big fool," the mother re- 
 plied. But the daughter blushed, and was si- 
 lent. 
 
 "Then why shouldn't she?" persisted Drab- 
 kin, referring to his betrothed. 
 
 "Well " interrupted Chashke. 
 
 He was at a loss for a plausible response. 
 
 "Well, speak, what is it you wish?"
 
 DRABKIN 207 
 
 "What should I wish? I don't wish any- 
 thing," he snarled indignantly. 
 
 He left the house in silent anger. He had 
 wanted her to help him feel angry, to be beside 
 himself with rage as usual. ... 
 
 The following day he tried again to talk the 
 matter over with Chyenke, but she merely re- 
 peated her opinions of yesterday. 
 
 "Then I tell you," he exclaimed, concisely 
 and firmly, "that our employes shall be treated 
 as / see fit!" 
 
 "And I tell you," interjected Chyenke, "that 
 in the first place we haven't any employes, nor 
 are we hiring any. And in the second place, 
 they'll be treated as / think proper!" 
 
 "We shall see!" 
 
 ''We shall seeV 
 
 He became angry, she became angry, and 
 they did not speak to each other for the rest of 
 that day. 
 
 "If that's the kind of a fellow he is," she 
 thought, "then he's not going to have the say 
 about the money."
 
 2o8 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 He sat there as if on pins and needles. He 
 was in a rage; his blood was boiling. He 
 wanted to spring up, spit out with scorn and 
 break with Chyenke for good. But something 
 restrained him. That "something" did not 
 permit him to carry out what he yearned so 
 strongly to do. That "something" held him 
 riveted to the spot and dammed his anger. And 
 that "something" was not very clear to him. 
 He only felt it strongly; it sent a warmth 
 through his whole body. . . . Just through his 
 inside pocket. . . . 
 
 "Well, well. We'll see," he thought. "After 
 the wedding it'll be a different story." 
 
 When they separated at the end of that day 
 Chyenke said to him, "Well, now run ofF to 
 your Chashke and fill her ears with complaints 
 against me." 
 
 "If I want to run to her, I won't ask you." 
 
 Chyenke had resolved to put an end to his 
 visits to Chashke. If he cared more for 
 Chashke, then let him take her. She could 
 afford to have a sweetheart all her own.
 
 DRABKIN 209 
 
 But she desired to raise no scandals before 
 the wedding. After their marriage she would 
 know how to wean him away from Chashke's, 
 and how to keep her from ever crossing their 
 threshold. . . . 
 
 But Drabkin seemed to have lost all desire 
 to go to Chashke. He did not go to her that 
 evening, nor the next. Why should he? He 
 was angry with her.
 
 VI 
 
 CHYENKE and her parents were in glee 
 at the wedding, for her dowry of five 
 hundred roubles had in the meantime increased 
 to seven hundred. Chyenke felt like a wealthy 
 woman, and her parents congratulated them- 
 selves upon being the father and mother of a 
 rich lady. 
 
 Drabkin, however, was not in good humour. 
 A certain fear hovered over him. After the 
 wedding he foresaw war. . . . 
 
 And surely enough, five months later the war 
 began. They had decided to go into manufac- 
 turing their own goods, without waiting for 
 work to be brought in to them from the shops. 
 This would require an independent establish- 
 ment with a number of employes. 
 
 He had seen several workingmen, old friends 
 and former shopmates. 
 
 210
 
 DRABKIN 
 
 211 
 
 
 "What do you say, boys? Will you come to 
 work for me?" 
 
 "You don't say, Drabkin ! So you're really 
 becoming a boss?" 
 
 "Listen to him. He doesn't lef the grass 
 grow under his feet!" 
 
 'Well. Will you work for me?" 
 'Why not? You'll pay wages twice as high 
 as the regular rate, of course," laughed the 
 workingmen. 
 
 "You don't have to worry about such matters 
 when you deal with me," he assured them, at 
 the same time thinking of his wife. 
 
 "You'll really pay twice the regular wages?" 
 
 "I told you not to worry about that, you 
 blockheads! You'll get higher pay from me 
 than from anybody else, and you'll work con- 
 siderably less." 
 
 They all parted in great contentment. And 
 Drabkin told himself that he had won a victory 
 over his wife after all. . . . 
 
 "To-morrow four operators will come here," 
 he announced to Chyenke when he came home
 
 212 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 that night. And he began to recite their names. 
 "Abraham, who used to work for Abraham 
 Baer; Labke, who. . . ." 
 
 "What are you going to pay them?" she in- 
 terrupted, scrutinising him closely from under 
 her furrowed brows. 
 
 He was silent. He wondered what figure 
 he could name. 
 
 "Why don't you speak?" she asked, more 
 sternly than before, eyeing him more closely. 
 
 Suddenly he became bold and self-assertive. 
 Why need he fear her? He'd tell her point- 
 blank! And if she didn't like it, she'd have 
 to . . . that's all ! With a smiling countenance 
 he repeated the details of his arrangements with 
 the workingmen. 
 
 "May evil dreams descend upon the heads 
 of all my enemies," she shrieked, slapping her 
 palms indignantly together. "Are you drunk, 
 or crazy? There's a millionaire for you! 
 What's a few hundred roubles to you? Here! 
 Take my dowry and give it away! . . ." 
 
 "You don't like it? Then don't!" he an-
 
 DRABKIN 213 
 
 swered gruffly. "I refuse to be like the rest of 
 them. I will not be a cut-purse!" 
 
 "Look at him! — A cut-purse!" she snarled 
 venomously. "Fine business man you are! 
 Am I, a proprietor, and now with child, to work 
 fourteen and fifteen hours a day, and have my 
 own employes go around in my place like men 
 of leisure? My enemies won't live to see it! 
 May they waste in illness as long as such a 
 thing never was and never will be!" . . . 
 
 "I've already told you," he interrupted in- 
 cisively, "if you don't like it, then don't!" 
 
 "What kind of words are those!" she 
 screamed. "I'll have you understand that 
 meanwhile / am the boss, and the money is 
 mine! . . . Did you bring such a pile to it? 
 Then things will be as I wish them to be. You'll 
 see whether they work for me or not. What 
 do you think of the fellow? Wants to be a 
 public benefactor! H'm!" 
 
 "Listen to me, Chyenke. None of your 
 tricks, now!" 
 
 "None of your tricks ! What are you going
 
 214 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 to do about it? Beat me? I'm not afraid of 
 such trifles ! . . ." She was now shrieking 
 shrilly. 
 
 He looked at her angrily and gnashed his 
 teeth. 
 
 Suddenly she threw on her coat and ran off 
 to her parents. . . . 
 
 An hour later, her father, her mother, her 
 father's brother Jonah the tailor, and her 
 mother's brother Jehiel the cobbler, stalked into 
 the room, preceded by Chyenke, whose face 
 shone with triumph. Drabkin greeted them 
 with none too happy a countenance, and contin- 
 ued his work at the machine. 
 
 "What's the trouble here between you?" be- 
 gan Grunim the glazier. 
 
 "What are you so angry about?" asked his 
 mother-in-law, venomously. "I suppose you 
 imagine you're in the right?" 
 
 "I'm not asking anybody whether I'm right 
 or wrong," he replied, even more venomously. 
 
 "A fine answer!" responded the mother-in- 
 law, indignantly.
 
 DRABKIN 215 
 
 "It's good enough for me," said Drabkin, 
 pushing the treadle. 
 
 "Just the same you needn't be impudent about 
 it," interposed Grunim, beginning to lose his 
 temper. 
 
 But Chyenke interceded and prevented a 
 quarrel. 
 
 "Just reckon it out for him. Reckon it out," 
 she said, turning to her Uncle Jonah. "Let him 
 hear." 
 
 "Drop your work," suggested Uncle Jehlel, 
 "and listen to reason." 
 
 "I've got nothing to listen to." 
 
 "Don't be a child!" 
 
 "What is there to discuss, what?" He rose 
 from his place. "I said once and for all that 
 I refuse to be a cut-purse." 
 
 "You talk like a child," began Uncle Jonah. 
 "I'm no cut-purse myself, and I get along first 
 rate with my employes! But everything must 
 be done with foresight, with a reckoning! You, 
 my dear child, — you," he began, falling into the 
 sing-song intonation of the Gemara, "you're
 
 2i6 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 starting out as a manufacturer, — you're a new 
 competitor In the market. Then you must try 
 to sell your goods cheaper. But how are you 
 going to do this when your labour is going to 
 cost you more than it costs anybody else?" he 
 ended, Ironically, his arms akimbo, looking 
 from face to face with an air of triumph. 
 
 "I know the reckoning!" retorted Drabkin, 
 obstinately. 
 
 "No, you don't!" shouted the tailor, waving 
 his right hand in the air and then bringing it 
 back to his hips. "You don't know! If you 
 did, you wouldn't do as you wish to do! . . . 
 Let me repeat It to you, my youngster, 
 you . . ." and again he lapsed into the Tal- 
 mudlc sing-song — "Wages will cost you prac- 
 tically twice as much as any other, and your 
 worklngmen will produce half as much per day 
 as in any other shop. Well, where's your 
 brains? Your goods will cost four times as 
 dear! . . . Who's going to buy it of you? Is 
 it going to be covered with spangles?"
 
 DRABKIN 217 
 
 "I tell you, I don't care to hear any reckon- 
 ings!" cried Drabkin. 
 
 "Then you're a fool, a jackass, a simpleton!" 
 replied Jonah, heatedly. 
 
 "It's the first time in my life I see such a per- 
 son!" asserted Jehiel, shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 "Shut up. It's no worry of yours," scowled 
 Drabkin. "I'll do exactly as I please." 
 
 "What do you mean, — exactly as you 
 please?" shrilled Grunim. "You're not the boss 
 yet. Meanwhile Chyenke has the say here!" 
 
 "Certainly!" corroborated the mother-in- 
 law. 
 
 "Certainly!" echoed Chyenke. 
 
 "And you're an impudent rascal, a loafer!" 
 scolded Grunim. 
 
 **A know-nothing, a dunce, who doesn't un- 
 derstand from here to there," cried Jonah. 
 "The goods will cost him. . . ." 
 
 "He ought to be put into the insane asylum 
 with all the other lunatics!" chimed Jehiel, 
 falling into Jonah's sing-song.
 
 2i8 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 "Fine pleasure we've lived to enjoy!" grum- 
 bled the mother-in-law to herself. 
 
 "What do you think of the fellow!" cried 
 Chyenke, casting a venomous glance in Drab- 
 kin's direction. "A public benefactor!" 
 
 Drabkin seized his coat and dashed through 
 the door.
 
 VII 
 
 HE ran to Chashke. 
 He was terribly pale, and Chashke and 
 her mother were frightened when he entered. 
 
 "What is the matter?" cried Chashke. 
 
 He threw himself upon the wooden lounge, 
 lowered his head and was silent. Both women 
 stared at him. 
 
 "Is your tongue paralysed?" asked the old 
 woman, finally breaking the silence. 
 
 "What's happened over at your place? 
 Speak, man," entreated Chashke. 
 
 "What should happen?" he asked angrily. 
 "It happened! My wife is no better than the 
 rest! She'd liks to run everything. Everything!" 
 
 He recounted all that had taken place in his 
 home. 
 
 "His wife is a wise woman, upon my word," 
 offered the old woman after hearing the story. 
 
 But Drabkin was anxious to know what 
 
 Chashke thought. 
 
 219
 
 220 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 "Well, what do you think of the reckoning?" 
 he asked, eyeing her intently. 
 
 "I never studied mathematics " 
 
 He made a gesture of impatience, and she 
 added, — "but I believe that the figures are cor- 
 rect" 
 
 "And suppose they are correct, — then 
 what?" 
 
 He was growing angry. 
 
 "What do I know?" replied Chashke, coldly. 
 "If they are correct, then from the looks of 
 things, matters can't be otherwise." 
 
 "What do you mean, — 'can't be otherwise?' 
 Am I, then, to do just like all the other bosses?" 
 
 "Who's telling you to become a boss?" 
 
 He looked at her in astonishment. 
 
 "Well, what are you staring at? Keep on 
 working as you've done up to now. Don't take 
 it into your head to run a factory. . . ." 
 
 "There's talk for you !" 
 
 "Certainly!" 
 
 Seething with fury, he left Chashke. 
 
 Such Ideas she could take into her head !
 
 VIII 
 
 CHYENKE knew that Drabkin had run off 
 to Chashke, so when he returned home 
 she was ready to welcome him. "Well? So 
 you've been to your sweetheart, have you?" 
 
 But his countenance was so dark and sinister 
 that she began to doubt whether he really had 
 been to Chashke. If he had been there, she 
 thought, he had probably met with a frigid re- 
 ception. And if this was so, she was sure he 
 would talk otherwise now. 
 
 She cautioned him sternly not to make any 
 scenes and not to give cause for tongue-wagging 
 and people's laughter. 
 
 "What a madness to fall into a man's head! 
 Why, folks would run after us in the street! 
 Really! Who? What? When? To go 
 simply crazy and slave away for our employes ! 
 Then what do I need the whole business for? I 
 may as well not run a factory altogether!" 
 
 221
 
 222 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 The last words recalled to his mind Chash- 
 ke's advice. Only — that was sheer nonsense. 
 . . . Neither of the women knew what she was 
 talking about. He would do as he pleased. 
 He would ask advice of nobody. 
 
 Chyenke continued: 
 
 "To-morrow, you tell your workingmen that 
 if they're willing to work under the same con- 
 ditions as they've known hitherto, they may 
 come here ready for business. If not, let them 
 be off in the best of health. We don't need 
 them. Such bargains may be picked up any 
 day!" 
 
 "I'm not asking you what to tell them," he 
 retorted coldly, stretching himself out on the 
 sofa. 
 
 Chyenke scowled at him. She was out of 
 breath. What could she do now? Shriek, 
 weep, or throw the shears she was holding at 
 his head, or her own? She threw the shears 
 upon the floor, sprang up from her seat and be- 
 gan to pace about the room. She could hold 
 back from shrieking. She knew that ultimately
 
 DRABKIN 223 
 
 she would win out. But she felt an intense 
 desire to wreak vengeance upon him in some 
 way. She would have been delighted to — stick, 
 a few needles into him. . . . 
 
 She lay down on the bed. Her head seethed 
 with the most confused thoughts, — how best to 
 avenge herself upon that man. The first de- 
 cision she reached was to He just as she was, 
 fully dressed, all night long on the unmade bed. 
 
 And he lay in a daze, unable to think. In his 
 dream he spoke and fought with the whole 
 world. There came back to him old, half-for- 
 gotten scenes of his early life, scenes in the 
 various shops where he had been employed, 
 Chashke. . . . "No, — such ideas she could 
 take into her head !" A vast shop appeared be- 
 fore him, containing an army of employes, and 
 he was the owner — and his heart began to 
 throb more loudly. 
 
 Chyenke had long before stopped thinking; 
 her heart, however, from time to time, con- 
 tracted with the bitterness of her unsated de- 
 sire for revenge. She arose from the bed, pre-
 
 224 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 pared it for the night, undressed, and lay down 
 again. She did not prepare his bed. But soon 
 it began to annoy her that he should lie as he 
 did and not go to sleep. 
 
 "Why are you letting the lamp burn? Is oil 
 so cheap?" she asked, in no friendly tones. 
 
 He did not move. 
 
 This vexed her keenly. Her heart was again 
 ready to burst, and she burned with a desire 
 to make him feel her resentment. But she 
 could think of nothing. She turned her face to 
 the wall, lay with eyes open, thinking, thinking 
 how she would heap upon him all the evil in 
 the world, and how she would contradict him 
 In every wish he expressed. 
 
 The next moment she sprang up hastily from 
 bed, — ran over to the table and put out the 
 lamp. 
 
 "Lie in darkness!" she scowled sharply, 
 crawling back into bed. 
 
 He did not move. 
 
 "What do I care if he lies there like that?" 
 she thought. "May he never get up again !"
 
 DRABKIN 225 
 
 Yet she was vexed to death. 
 
 She jumped up and in the dark began to 
 make his bed. She worked angrily, jerking the 
 sheet, tossing the pillow and pulling the blanket 
 violently. 
 
 He remained upon the sofa in the same posi- 
 tion as before, motionless. 
 
 He lay in thought, thus taking his revenge. 
 Aha ! He would not go to bed ! Not he ! He 
 knew that she was boiling with rage. Let her 
 learn a lesson ! 
 
 Was he, then, to work like a horse and yet 
 have no say in the business, not to be able to do 
 as he thought best? . . . No, he was boss now, 
 and let them all go to perdition ! . . . 
 
 But he knew that Chyenke would not hesi- 
 tate to create the most fearful scenes, and he 
 felt that he would be unable to win out. In 
 such a case he would break with Chyenke alto- 
 gether, — get a divorce. His temples began to 
 throb violently and his heart-beats sounded like 
 hammer-blows. Let her pound her head 
 against the wall with her money, her shop and
 
 226 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 the whole business ! He would marry Chashke 
 and live the kind of life he preferred: a quiet, 
 peaceful, honest existence. They loved each 
 other so ! How on earth had he ever married 
 the other woman! Such folly! . . . 
 
 But he was suddenly overcome with a feeling 
 of dejection. His heart became heavy. Pov- 
 erty, Two corpses dancing. Again he would 
 have to become a workingman and endure the 
 oppression of employers. How much did 
 Chashke earn, anyway? Next to nothing. And 
 the old woman would be on his hands. ... A 
 fine old lady, he must admit. And she liked 
 him. And yet . . . he sighed deeply. 
 
 He already had quite a sum of money. Al- 
 most an even thousand roubles. 
 
 A strange warmth pervaded his being. 
 
 He had a good deal of work, too. He could 
 really start a large factory, and in time 
 
 He fairly lost his breath. He really had a 
 wonderful opportunity to attain great wealth, — ■ 
 here was a chance to work wonders. He — with 
 such a capital and a reputation like his, and with
 
 DRABKIN 227 
 
 an industrious worker like Chyenke. For she 
 was truly a wonderful worker. As capable as 
 the strongest of men. 
 
 And, he must confess, she was certainly good- 
 looking. A genuine beauty, far prettier than 
 when she was a girl. Much better looking than 
 Chashke. For a fleeting moment he felt that 
 this thought insulted Chashke and shamed him, 
 but his fatigued brain continued to think con- 
 fusedly. 
 
 Chyenke loved him, too, — ever so much. 
 Despite everything she had made his bed! 
 Ha-ha-ha ! . . . 
 
 And to tell the truth, all of them were right. 
 "You child, you, wages will cost you practically 
 twice as much as another, and your men will ac- 
 complish during the day only half as much as 
 elsewhere! Well, smarty! . . . Then your 
 goods will cost you four times as much, . . ." 
 Uncle Jonah's words and the Gemara sing-song 
 echoed in his ears. Yet somehow or other he 
 could not grasp the figures. Just why would his
 
 228 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 goods cost him four times as much, rather than 
 twice? 
 
 "But it seems to me the reckoning is correct," 
 Chashke's words returned to him. 
 
 He would try to figure it out for himself. 
 He concentrated his mind. Their wages would 
 be . . . no, not twice as much as the regular 
 rate. He was not so foolish as all that, even 
 if he had never learned accounting. He would 
 give them merely a slight advance over current 
 wages. Well, — and they would accomplish, 
 during the day — why only half as much? The 
 idea! Only half as much! "Well, smarty! 
 Then your goods . . ." echoed Uncle Jonah's 
 words once more. So then, how much dearer 
 would his goods cost him? He was anxious to 
 know, and furrowed his forehead. . . . "Even 
 as the shepherd watches over his flock. . . ." 
 A snatch of a New Year's prayer began to hum 
 in his ears. But he dismissed the tune and con- 
 tinued his calculations. His drowsiness over- 
 came him — he could not figure it out. 
 
 **. . . Seems to me the reckoning is correct
 
 DRABKIN 229 
 
 . . ." came Chashke's words again to his mind. 
 
 He was already falling asleep, but he ban- 
 ished rest. He must think things out. 
 
 But what could he do? The reckoning was 
 correct. "Who's telling you to become a boss ?" 
 'Bah! "She's a big fool, is Chashke. ... At 
 times she speaks the most arrant nonsense," he 
 corrected himself. He had merely been a trifle 
 too hasty with his employes; he should have 
 thought it over before accosting them. But he 
 had made no contract with them — he had sim- 
 ply made a mistake. But just the same they 
 would work under the best of conditions. He 
 would never speak a harsh word to them! . . . 
 
 There. Now he would go to sleep. The 
 rest of the matter he would think out the fol- 
 lowing day. He would undress and go to bed. 
 And should he make up with Chyenke as he 
 passed her? He would come quietly up to her, 
 embrace her and give her a kiss. Such a beauti- 
 ful wifey! And so industrious! Such a fiery 
 woman ! Something drew him irresistibly to- 
 wards her. But he controlled himself. He did
 
 230 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 not quite know what he would do the next day. 
 And again, he had a strong feeling that he 
 need not yet surrender. . . . 
 
 He became deeply depressed. He longed 
 for Chyenke. He wanted to call her by her 
 name, to go to her — and fell alseep upon the 
 sofa with the thought that his employes would 
 work under the very best conditions. 
 
 "Ha ! He did it, just to spite me ! He lay 
 all night on the sofa! . . . For my part may 
 you lie there forever!" 
 
 These were Chyenke's first words when she 
 opened her eyes next morning and beheld her 
 husband upon the sofa. 
 
 Drabkin was about to reply with words of 
 affection. He felt like playing with her. He 
 still experienced the powerful attraction of the 
 night before. Yet he wished to remain angry 
 still. He simply could not relinquish the idea 
 that in his shop the workers would enjoy en- 
 tirely different conditions. He made no reply 
 to Chyenke's words and became sullen.
 
 DRABKIN 231 
 
 It seemed to him that he could not alter his 
 promise to the workingmen, who were to come 
 that morning. He decided to leave the house, 
 so as not to be in when they came. Let Chyenke 
 do as she pleased. His hands would be clean. 
 He began to feel a keen displeasure that things 
 should not be as he desired, and somewhere in 
 the recesses of his mind arose the thought that 
 he ought to throw up the whole business. But 
 that was a futile notion. The wisest thing, he 
 thought, was not to be in when the workingmen 
 came. He dressed hurriedly and left. 
 
 "Where are you going?" 
 
 "Where I need to go." 
 
 But Chyenke took no offence. She under- 
 stood his idea and rejoiced. 
 
 "Aha! My fine statesman!" she spoke tri- 
 umphantly, shaking her head, after he had shut 
 the door behind him. 
 
 Soon the workingmen arrived one after the 
 other. Chyenke held herself somewhat aloof, 
 not even looking at them and feigning to search 
 for something.
 
 232 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 "Where Is Drabkin?" 
 
 "Gone out!" she mumbled in reply. "What 
 is it?" 
 
 "We've come ready to work. He hired us. 
 Didn't he tell you anything about it?" 
 
 "You've come ready to work?" she suddenly 
 scowled, raising her voice and filling it with all 
 the venom of her anger. "Fine folks you are ! 
 I tell you ! Found a fool and .... What do 
 you think? Found an easy-mark, didn't you? 
 You ought to be ashamed of yourselves even to 
 mention such conditions. Why, it's downright 
 robbery! What do you take us for, — million- 
 aires? Do you think we're rolling in roubles? 
 Where are we going to get the money to pay 
 you such wages?" . . . She was now scream- 
 ing. "They found a fool and turned his head ! 
 With him everything is right. Whatever you 
 tell him, he lets you have your way. If another 
 fellow happened along at the same time and 
 told him to give away all he had, he would have 
 done so. Does he stop to consider? Does he 
 care a jot? You were foolish not to ask him
 
 DRABKIN 233 
 
 four times as much as you did, as wages for 
 sitting in his shop and looking at him! . . . 
 Bah! Upon my word! . . ." 
 
 "What's all this screeching about?" asked 
 one of the men with an ironic smile. "You 
 don't want us? You don't have to! We've 
 had work up to now and we won't go around 
 idle now. We didn't come asking him for 
 work, either. He came to us! . . ." 
 
 "Suppose he did ! Is that any reason for try- 
 ing to skin him?" replied Chyenke indignantly. 
 "You came to the right place. ... Do you 
 think you've got another fool here?" 
 
 "If we're given, why shouldn't we take?" 
 
 "That's just the trouble. You struck a fool. 
 But, thank Heaven, I've a little say in the mat- 
 ter. If you're willing to work at regular rates 
 then you may start in at once. If not, suit your- 
 selves — I'll find plenty of hands." 
 
 "We know nothing about all this," insisted 
 the men. "Drabkin told us to come to work." 
 
 "Just for that," cried Chyenke in fury, "I'll
 
 234 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 not take you even for nothing. Let Drabkin 
 take you! I am the boss here!" 
 
 For a while the workingmen eyed her with 
 scorn, a smile of contempt upon their lips, then 
 they turned to the door. 
 
 "I tell you, boys," groaned one of them in 
 jest, "you take it from me; Drabkin has it far 
 worse with this new boss of his than he ever 
 had it with any of his old ones !" 
 
 Chyenke simply glared daggers at the 
 speaker and was silent. 
 
 The workingmen had not proceeded far upon 
 their way when they noticed Drabkin. At sight 
 of them Drabkin's heart fell. Quickly he dis- 
 appeared through a gate. 
 
 "The fellow has given us the slip !" 
 
 "Do you know what? We ought to wait for 
 him here and give his nose a good rubbing." 
 
 The plan was accepted. A couple of the men 
 went into the yard and two remained on watch 
 at the gate. Drabkin saw all this and was 
 forced to seek refuge in a place where the 
 noxious odours took his breath away. . . .
 
 DRABKIN 235 
 
 There he remained, but the worklngmen did not 
 move from their places. 
 
 And really, why should he be hiding from 
 them? he thought. Had he stolen anything of 
 theirs? Had he tricked them? Had he talked 
 them out of taking another position? He could 
 even pay them for that day, if they wished. 
 
 There he remained, as if rooted to the spot. 
 ... A strange, strong feeling of shame held 
 him there. Standing in that foul atmosphere, 
 hiding from his fellow men, he felt that he was 
 entering upon a new path, that he was becom- 
 ing an altogether new Drabkin. He could not 
 even explain to himself the exact nature of this 
 change, just what was happening to his char- 
 acter, to his whole being. Several times 
 Chashke came to his mind, with Chyenke di- 
 rectly behind; through his head echoed snatches 
 of his old catch-phrases, — but all this, somehow 
 or other, like old faces, old echoes, things from 
 long ago. . . . 
 
 And he stood there as if rooted to the spot. 
 
 But this must come to an end. He resolved
 
 236 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 to come forth from his place of concealment. 
 With a cough, he opened the door, and began, 
 with a serious countenance, to button his coat. 
 He lowered his glance to the ground, as if 
 deeply absorbed in thought. His hat, to be 
 sure, was somewhat crooked on his head. He 
 thought that if he did not look at them he 
 might succeed in passing them by unnoticed. At 
 any rate, let them believe that he was pro- 
 foundly preoccupied. 
 
 The workingmen came forward to meet him. 
 He raised his eyes exactly In time to encounter 
 their glances. A sweet smile curled on his lips 
 — he pretended to have noticed them for the 
 first time. 
 
 "What kept you in there so long?" 
 
 "Where? . . . When? ... Oh, in there? 
 . . . So so. . . . My stomach. . . ." 
 
 "Your stomach! You scamp! We under- 
 stand your tricks. You were hiding!" 
 
 "Hiding? . . . What do you mean? . . . 
 From whom? From whom need I hide? Of 
 whom need I be afraid?" replied Drabkin.
 
 DRABKIN 237 
 
 "See here. What did we agree to yester- 
 day?" began one of the men heatedly. 
 
 "Yes, that's just what I wanted to talk, over 
 with you," began Drabkin in a friendly man- 
 ner. "I'm afraid I'll have to take it all back. 
 My wife got after me yesterday, and all her 
 relatives too, and . . . Oh! ... I had a day 
 of it. . . . Oh ! . . ." He shrugged his shoul- 
 ders and waved his arms, giving his hearers to 
 understand what a terrible day it had been. 
 "They made me out to be crazy. You should 
 have heard ! In a word, gentlemen, I must take 
 it all back." 
 
 Once again he repeated to them what a ter- 
 rible day he had gone through. He spoke 
 genially and with genuine regret. He did not 
 wish to have his word lose its value in the 
 eyes of his former companions, and, most of 
 all, he feared their sharp tongues, their piti- 
 less sarcasm. The men looked at him with 
 scorn, not believing a word he said. Nor did 
 he escape their gibes. 
 
 " 'Exploiters, bloodsuckers . . .' " they mim-
 
 238 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 icked. "How does it strike you now? Scamp, 
 you! Devil take you. . . 'Exploiters, blood- 
 suckers, cut-purses' "... the workingmen 
 taunted as they left. 
 
 And these words cut him to the quick. They 
 were his own words. He could say nothing in 
 retort. He felt that he himself was not yet 
 an exploiter or a bloodsucker, but he could not 
 for the life of him bring the words to his tongue 
 at that moment. And something vexed him so 
 keenly. He was filled with a desire to under- 
 stand, to grasp just what ailed him : he was, it 
 seemed, the same Drabkin as yesterday and the 
 day before, and yet not the same. The old time 
 in which he had been a workingman seemed to 
 be veiled as by a cloud; it was far, far in the 
 past. And before the approaching future he 
 felt ashamed — yet under his bosom there was 
 a strange warmth, and as soon as he felt that 
 warmth he forgot everything else: old times, 
 the disappointed workingmen, their gibes and 
 all evil, troublesome thoughts.
 
 IX 
 
 HE returned home in a calm frame of mind. 
 He convinced himself that he was inno- 
 cent in the matter of the dismissal of the work- 
 ingmen — that is, as far as he was concerned they 
 might be working for him now, as at first 
 agreed, only Chyenke and her brood of rela- 
 tives . . . No, he was not to blame. Yet he 
 felt a strong friendship for Chyenke such as he 
 had not felt since the wedding. 
 
 "I sent your workingmen off," greeted Chy- 
 enke, preparing the samovar. "It's all over 
 now I . . . You won't put on any lordly airs 
 round here any more! . . . Hereafter Vll do 
 the hiring and the firing!" 
 
 "Then you do the hiring," he replied weakly. 
 He was content that he should no longer have 
 to haggle with the new hands, and that his con- 
 science would be clear. 
 
 239
 
 240 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 But he was careful not to betray his content- 
 ment. 
 
 "A fine statesman for you!" scoffed Chyenke 
 with cutting sarcasm, looking into the chimney 
 of the samovar. 
 
 He made no reply and got busy upon his 
 work. 
 
 From his bench he cast frequent glances to- 
 ward Chyenke, who was occupied with house- 
 hold duties. She was angry, and did not deign 
 to look in his direction. So he, too, pretended 
 not to look at her. 
 
 "She's good looking, Chyenke Is ... a 
 beautiful woman," he thought, stealing a 
 glimpse at her. "A fine figure — and what a 
 bust!" ... It suddenly occurred to him that 
 he had never thought of "such things" . . . 
 And try as he might, he could not explain to 
 himself what had come over him. Something 
 was drawing him to Chyenke. At that very 
 moment he would gladly have cast his work 
 aside and run over to her. . . . He could not 
 imagine himself kissing her, but he would most
 
 DRABKIN 241 
 
 certainly do it if he were to run over to her at 
 that very moment. He was ashamed of the 
 feeling, which made him arise from his place, 
 and he began to look for something upon the 
 table, then about the room, finally edging up 
 to Chyenke. 
 
 "How about the samovar?" he asked, sul- 
 lenly, although he had meant to say something 
 far different and much more friendly. 
 
 "Touch it and see," replied Chyenke ill- 
 humouredly, wiping the tea-glasses. 
 
 "Touch it and see!" he mocked, good-natur- 
 edly, smiling and placing a hand against the 
 samovar. He was at a loss for something nice 
 to say, — something that would conciliate her. 
 
 "Whom are you thinking of giving the jobs 
 to?" 
 
 "You'll find out!" 
 
 She felt that he was trying to make up with 
 her, and that it was now her time to take re- 
 venge for yesterday's episode. She would have 
 him at her feet yet! 
 
 "You'll find out!" he mimicked again with a
 
 242 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 smile. But her attitude was beginning to anger 
 him. 
 
 Really, why shouldn't he fly into a fury, give 
 her a terrible scolding, thump his fist on the 
 table and show that he was the ruler of the 
 house? 
 
 He clinched his teeth, assumed an angry 
 countenance and returned to his work. 
 
 She, however, took no heed. She knew for 
 certain that she held the upper hand; just let 
 him try to start something and she'd give It to 
 him so hot and heavy that he wouldn't know 
 where it came from! 
 
 He sat there, working away, and felt that he 
 was not at all angry with Chyenke, — that he 
 was merely making a cross face to frighten her 
 into a more tender mood. He glanced at her 
 furtively and knew that he loved her, that a 
 little while later he would be holding her in 
 his arms, on his lap, and would caress her, kiss 
 her, squeeze her. And the thought brought 
 such a tenderness, such a warmth to his heart
 
 DRABKIN 243 
 
 that he worked with renewed enthusiasm, steal- 
 ing countless glances at Chyenke. 
 
 "Here's your tea. Drink it!" she ordered, 
 caustically. 
 
 He remained seated. This was to signify 
 that he was angry and did not care to know 
 her or her tea. 
 
 "Will you take it or not? If you don't, I'll 
 spill your tea into the slop-pail!" 
 
 Leisurely he laid his work aside and arose 
 with a smile. This was to signify that he was 
 not at all angry, and that he had not intended 
 to play with her and spite her, but that he had 
 been exceedingly engrossed in his work and 
 could not have abandoned it any sooner. He 
 thrust his arms into the air, stretching himself, 
 yawned and smiled. 
 
 "My! But you're hot-tempered!" he 
 laughed. 
 
 He really meant it. He wished her to for- 
 get her grievance, to be kind once again, to 
 fondle him as before.
 
 244 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 He approached the table and pinched her 
 cheek. 
 
 She thrust his hand aside. 
 
 "Away from me !" 
 
 "Psh, psh, psh! What an angry lady!" . . . 
 He sat down nearby and placed his arms about 
 her waist. 
 
 "Better go away before I get angry!" she 
 cried, tearing herself from his grasp. 
 
 He pressed her close to him, bent her head 
 toward his and began to kiss her, stifling her 
 outcries with his lips. She seized the glass of 
 hot tea, but he snatched it away from her grasp. 
 Only with the greatest effort did she tear her- 
 self free. 
 
 "Fll break your head for you!" she 
 screamed, jumping to her feet. He laughed 
 with a passionate, repulsive laughter. 
 
 The shadow of his repulsive, passionate 
 laughter still lay upon his lips when he went 
 back to his work. He still felt the kisses upon 
 his lips and felt, too, that he was sated and that
 
 DRABKIN 245 
 
 his heart was eased. He attacked his work 
 with a happy will and knew that, in the end, 
 to-morrow or the day after, Chyenke would 
 be won over. He forgot the whole world. 
 
 I
 
 X 
 
 THAT evening Chashke and her old moth- 
 er came for a visit. They were curious 
 to know the state of affairs in Drabkin's house- 
 hold and how the matter had turned out. 
 
 "Ah, Chashke!" cried Drabkin with forced 
 gaiety. He had not at all wished her to come. 
 She brought back to him memories of the olden 
 days, of things he no longer wished to recall. 
 She made him feel, moreover, a keen sense of 
 his present subjection. He was ashamed and 
 remained working at his bench. 
 
 Chyenke, however, was glad to see them. 
 
 She wanted to show them that she was the boss, 
 
 and that he lay meekly at her feet. And let 
 
 his former sweetheart see how he loved his 
 
 wife, how he fawned upon her. And let 
 
 Chashke burst with vexation and jealousy! 
 
 246
 
 DRABKIN 247 
 
 "Well, how are things with you?" inquired 
 the old woman. 
 
 Chashke did not care to ask. Already she 
 sensed everything and felt superfluous in Drab- 
 kin's home. 
 
 "How should things be?" replied Chyenke, 
 in a triumphant voice. "Not so bad. He's 
 changed his mind, my wise man, my know-it- 
 all. Oho! Now, it seems he would like 
 
 to. . . . 
 
 She did not say what he would like to do, 
 but nodded her head in Drabkin's direction 
 with a glance and with an expression on her 
 face that spoke far more plainly than words. 
 
 He did not raise his head and feigned deep 
 absorption in his work. Chashke blushed for 
 him. The room began to feel too narrow for 
 her. She must run away, run away — she sat 
 there as if on burning coals. 
 
 The old woman, on the other hand, was soon 
 engrossed in chatter. 
 
 "I told him from the very first that you 
 were as clever a woman as I knew, upon my
 
 248 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 soul, and my Chashke told him, too, that it 
 couldn't be otherwise, and that he'd be foolish 
 to attempt it." 
 
 At these words Drabkin was strongly im- 
 pelled to raise his head. Chashke herself had 
 really sa.id that it couldn't be otherwise. But 
 at once he recalled what else she had said, and 
 again he felt ashamed and remained seated, 
 his head closely applied to his task, dumb. 
 
 Chyenke began to tell how she had sent off 
 the workingmen, and how Drabkin had dis- 
 appeared from home early that same morn- 
 ing "He simply didn't have the heart to 
 
 witness it." 
 
 "And now," she concluded, "I alone hire 
 help and settle things as / see fit." 
 
 She looked triumphantly at Chashke. Drab- 
 kin said nothing. 
 
 "Come, mamma. Let's be going home!" 
 urged Chashke, rising. 
 
 "What's your hurry?" asked Drabkin. 
 
 Chashke would have been delighted to spit 
 square into his face. The old woman answered
 
 DRABKIN 249 
 
 that their boarder would come and the door 
 was locked. 
 
 They left. 
 
 Drabkin felt that Chashke had been there 
 for the last time, and the thought was some- 
 what disquieting. But this unpleasantness was 
 soon lost in the great contentment that over- 
 whelmed him. He felt more free, more inde- 
 pendent; a yoke fell from his neck; there would 
 be no one before his eyes as a continual re- 
 minder of his former years and his former 
 talk. 
 
 Gone forever, — gone — and forgotten. 
 
 Now he would really work, — work honestly. 
 Here God was helping him* to become a man 
 among men, — then why shouldn't he do it? 
 And, naturally, he wouldn't be like those dogs, 
 his former employers. He would know that 
 a workingman was a human being, too, and 
 would treat his men altoge*-her differently. They 
 would be to him like his own people, like 
 brothers. Chashke really was a fool. 
 
 "Did you see in what a rage your Chashke
 
 250 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 left?" asked Chyenke, Interrupting his 
 thoughts. 
 
 "Why are you always saying 'your' Chash- 
 ke?" he queried, with a smile. 
 
 "I know. You still run to her house." 
 
 "Pah! Better come and sit down here, right 
 beside me. So!" 
 
 He slapped his knee and stretched his arms 
 out to her. 
 
 Chashke's heart was heavy. So heavy, In- 
 deed, that she would gladly have wept. Her 
 throat contracted with sorrow. She walked 
 rapidly, and her mother could scarcely keep 
 pace with her. 
 
 "Just mark my word," gasped the old 
 woman, running after her daughter, "In a few 
 years Drabkin will be rich, — worth several 
 thousand roubles. She has a smart head on her 
 shoulders. If you had only half her brains 
 I wouldn't have to worry about you ! Oh ! Oh I 
 Ah! . . ." 
 
 It was the old mother's disappointment that
 
 DRABKIN 251 
 
 spoke in her,— disappointment that nothing had 
 come of the intimacy between Drabkin and her 
 daughter. 
 
 "What do you want of me, mamma? Please 
 don't say any more," entreated Chashke with 
 a quivering voice, turning her pale countenance 
 toward her mother. 
 
 The little old woman was frightened by the 
 quivering voice and the pale countenance. Wav- 
 ing her hand, she shook her head. 
 
 "There! I mustn't say a word!" she sighed. 
 
 She spoke no more that night. 
 
 Chashke felt as if she had just returned from 
 a cemetery, where she had buried her dearest 
 treasure. 
 
 Drabkin, Drabkin! . . . And he had been 
 her Drabkin ! . . . 
 
 Ah, and up to that very day she had dreamed 
 and imagined! 
 
 Oh, to weep, to weep 
 
 That night she had a dream. No, not a 
 dream, for she could not fall asleep, and lay
 
 252 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 with eyes wide open, staring into the impene- 
 trable darkness. 
 
 She beheld how Drabkin was becoming a 
 pot-bellied boss; all his thoughts were centred 
 only upon how to enlarge his shop and fill his 
 purse. Everything else was forgotten — every 
 human Impulse, every tinge of sympathy for the 
 poor worker, every spark of compassion for 
 the under-dog. Workingmen to him were hired 
 slaves — and "Ephraim is supposed to work till 
 nine o'clock at night and works till half-past 
 ten ; when he came to work this morning at half- 
 past seven, they fell upon him like a mad 
 dog. . . ." 
 
 And in the silent darkness it seemed to her 
 that Drabkin struck a cruel blow upon the face 
 of a little child who was apprenticed to him. 
 
 A shudder ran through her whole body, and 
 she began to weep hysterically. 
 
 A heartbreaking, bitter weeping
 
 THE BLACK CAT
 
 THE BLACK CAT 
 
 Ir has been raining for already two days, — 
 a soft, leisurely drizzle, but an endless one. 
 Often it increases In vehemence. It begins to 
 patter upon my roof with rapid fury. Then It 
 seems that at last It is over. Now the dense 
 grey clouds will empty themselves and the 
 downpour will cease. The great fury abates, 
 the racket upon the roof becomes gradually 
 quiet, yet the rain continues to fall, softly and 
 leisurely. Often so softly that It seems to have 
 stopped. Then I look out of the window with 
 just a ray of hope that I shall see a clear sky. 
 But by the wheels that roll incessantly across 
 the pavement I recognise the eternal rain. The 
 eternal rain. The eternal. . . . 
 
 I lower the shades and turn on the electric 
 light. Let it be night. I'll seat myself upon the 
 armchair before my desk and pursue my 
 
 thoughts, and think and think of 
 
 255
 
 256 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 Of my fortune — or of my misfortune? 
 
 It has come upon me so suddenly that I 
 don't know how to take it. The day before 
 yesterday I was so happy, and to-day my heart 
 is so heavy, so heavy. ... I know that this 
 is the effect of the ceaseless rain, — of the weep- 
 ing, lamenting, grey, dark-grey outdoors. Still, 
 I am so restless. My feeling comes from within, 
 — comes over me from the depths of my heart 
 and my soul. It seems to me that I must be 
 moody, and I cannot understand how I could 
 have been so high-spirited the day before yes- 
 terday, I am vexed that I can no longer be 
 so merry. 
 
 So suddenly. So suddenly. . . . 
 
 Can it have happened only ten days ago? 
 
 Only ten days ago. 
 
 She brought me a manuscript, which I was 
 to read and appraise for her. 
 
 Young — perhaps twenty, and maybe only 
 eighteen. 
 
 And beautiful — beautiful? Yes, even strik-
 
 THE BLACK CAT 257 
 
 ingly beautiful. Scarcely had I opened the door 
 and beheld her, when a strange sensation 
 clutched at my heart. 
 
 Her eyes ! Those deep, black eyes under the 
 long black lashes! They pierced me at once. 
 I could not tear myself away from them. And 
 thus overwhelmed, only half conscious, I re- 
 ceived the impression that those eyes were set 
 in a rather long, dark-complexioned, youthful 
 countenance, and that around a low, alluring 
 forehead played several black curls mischiev- 
 ously, and that her whole figure was very svelte 
 and supple, — almost that of a child. 
 
 And her voice ! Like her eyes. Deep, and 
 of a dark quality, and so warm. No sooner had 
 she asked, "Does Mr. So-and-so live here, and 
 are you not he ?" than my eyes and my ears were 
 so completely filled with her that I forgot I 
 must not keep her standing at the door, and 
 that I must invite her in. 
 
 She invited herself, however. She entered 
 my room, far beyond the threshold, and I closed 
 the door slowly, without removing my glance
 
 258 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 from her. And remained standing as If hyp- 
 notised, without knowing whether to make In- 
 quiry or to wait until she would tell me who she 
 was and what she wished of me. 
 
 She laughed. Deep, warm, ringing laughter. 
 Why did I not ask her to be seated? 
 
 Oh, yes. Pardon. And I, the father of a 
 daughter almost as old as she, turned red with 
 embarrassment, It seems. I hastened to fetch 
 her a chair, but she had already chosen one and 
 sat down. 
 
 She continues to speak, while I take my place 
 In my armchair before the desk and gaze, gaze 
 upon her, my ears thirstily and enchantedly 
 drinking in the sound of her voice. 
 
 She tells me that she pictured me exactly as 
 I am. She has read everything I have writ- 
 ten. She knows all my writings well and has 
 imagined a picture of me. And the picture is 
 correct. But she did not think I possessed so 
 many grey hairs. That makes no difference, 
 however. For I am young. She is certain of
 
 THE BLACK CAT 259 
 
 that. But she still has no idea of how my voice 
 sounds. She thus hints that I hav^e said nothing 
 as yet. And she laughs. 
 
 I join the laughter and am at a loss for words. 
 I feel that I must say something significant, — 
 that the maidenly vision with the beautiful child- 
 like figure, who knows all my writings and has 
 formed a perfect image of me, is now waiting 
 for deep and notable words to issue from my 
 lips. Nor do I desire to be insignificant. I 
 don't care to utter plain, ordinary, pedestrian 
 words. So I smile and wait for her to speak 
 further. 
 
 She looks about the room, resting her glance 
 for a moment upon the paintings that hang 
 upon my walls. And soon she transfers her 
 eyes once more to me. Sharp, penetrating 
 glances, with a great question in them. And 
 now there rises in her eyes a smile of subtle 
 irony. 
 
 Because I do not inquire, she explains in her 
 deep voice, she is compelled to speak for her- 
 self. Why does one come to a famous author?
 
 26o TEMPTATIONS 
 
 Naturally, she has for a long time desired to 
 know me, but without a special reason she 
 would never have dared to come. Now, how- 
 ever, she comes as to a doctor or a lawyer, on 
 a professional visit, for an opinion and for 
 counsel. She has written something and wishes 
 to enjoy the criticism of an authority. Will I 
 not take the trouble? 
 
 I reply politely, very politely: "Certainly, 
 with the greatest of pleasure." 
 
 She laughs. Oh, she does not believe that her 
 piece will afford me much pleasure. The very 
 handwriting is impossible. Should I prefer, 
 perhaps, to have her read it to me? 
 
 I desire to hear the sound of her voice. But 
 If she reads she will look at the manuscript dur- 
 ing the entire reading, and I'll be unable to see 
 her eyes. 
 
 Then she adds, "But I read very badly. My 
 reading is even worse than my handwriting." 
 She laughs: she does not care to read, either. 
 For if she reads it now, I'll express my opinion 
 at once, and she will have to arise, say "Good
 
 THE BLACK CAT 261 
 
 day," and never call again. She would rather 
 leave the manuscript with me, and then she will 
 come, — yes, she will really come and hear the 
 answer. She does not wish it by mail. She 
 will certainly have a number of questions to 
 ask. She would prefer to come, — and since, 
 naturally, I shall not have read her manuscript 
 through, she will have to call again and 
 again. . . . 
 
 She deposits upon my desk a small manu- 
 script. For the first time I see her hand. A 
 wee little hand, — white, tender skin, through 
 which the lines of the joints are visible. 
 
 I take the manuscript, glance at the title- 
 page, peep at the beginning and at the middle, 
 and feel her deep black eyes upon me. And as 
 I raise my head I encounter her glances with the 
 great question in them, and also the subtle irony. 
 
 Something taps at my window. And now it 
 miaows. I know that a cat has taken refuge 
 upon my window-sill from the endless down- 
 pour. I am certain of it, yet I arise from my
 
 262 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 chair and walk over to take a look. This fur- 
 nishes some distraction from my thoughts. And 
 an excuse for moving. My feet are like ice. 
 
 I raise the shade and shudder with fright. A 
 large black cat is looking up at me from the 
 outer darkness, with her burning, phosphores- 
 cent eyes. I hate a black cat. Not that I am 
 superstitious, yet In my memory and my nerves 
 there is a residue of everything that supersti- 
 tion has created concerning black cats. I rap 
 at the window to drive her away. But she pays 
 little heed to my rapping. She turns around, 
 selects a comfortable spot and lies down. I am 
 on the point of opening the window and thrust- 
 ing her into the street below, but I don't care to 
 touch her. I take pity on her, too. Outside the 
 rain is still falling, falling. Let her lie and rest 
 on a dry spot. Who cares? 
 
 I lower the shade and return to my writing 
 table. 
 
 Just a moment to banish the black cat from 
 my mind, and I'll pursue my thoughts anew.
 
 THE BLACK CAT 263 
 
 Now then — of my fortune and misfortune. 
 But did I not previously think: or my misfor- 
 tune? 
 
 I answered her, Yes. She could leave the 
 manuscript with me. I would read it over, — 
 read it over very carefully, and tell her my 
 opinion. 
 
 The whole truth? 
 
 Of course. 
 
 When would she come for the answer? 
 
 I'd tell her a few days later. 
 
 Why a few days later? Why not to- 
 morrow? She would come to-morrow. The 
 piece was such a short one. One could read it 
 In less than half an hour. 
 
 So I yield to her. Very well. Let her come 
 to-morrow. 
 
 My wife has meanwhile entered the room. I 
 introduce her. My wife is affable and smiles, 
 but she is sullen, curt and unbending. 
 
 She arises from her place. Now she will 
 leave. 
 
 My wife laughs. "Am I driving you away?"
 
 264 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 She, somewhat aloof, replies, No. She has 
 simply been sitting long enough. 
 
 And on the threshold she asks, insinuatingly, 
 "You will read my manuscript personally?" 
 
 For a second I am strongly impelled to return 
 her manuscript, thus wreaking vengeance upon 
 her for my wife. 
 
 But she has already closed the door and is 
 gone, without having waited for a reply. Per- 
 haps she had noticed the spark of displeasure 
 that shone in my eyes, 
 
 "What sort of impudent cat is that?" asks 
 my wife. 
 
 I burst into laughter. 
 
 The next day she did not come. Nor the day 
 after. But on both days I thought that she had 
 not come. I did not wish to give the matter 
 thought, but it haunted me, made me uneasy. 
 If she had promised to come, she should have 
 kept her word. 
 
 I read her manuscript. A very wretched 
 tale. It was supposed to depict the yearning
 
 THE BLACK CAT 265 
 
 of a solitary woman for an unknown man. But 
 the words were weak and the colours false. And 
 I could not get away from the idea that per- 
 haps she had written them just to have a pre- 
 text for coming to me. "The Impudent cat !" 
 
 On the third day she came. From the door 
 she laughed to me with her deep, staccato 
 laughter. "Kept you waiting?" 
 
 "Catch me telling you, you cat!" 
 
 I bid her enter the room. She advances to 
 the centre, looks about, gazes toward the door 
 by which my wife entered three days before, di- 
 rects her deep look upon me, taking a chair, and 
 speaks with her deep, velvety voice. "Have 
 you read through my manuscript?" 
 
 I am about to tell her the truth, but I feel 
 that I cannot dismiss her from me forever, — 
 that I desire her to come to me again, — so I 
 reply, "I've read it, but not read it through. 
 You will have to forgive me." 
 
 "Where did you leave off?" 
 
 Yes, where am I to tell her I left off? 
 
 "Perhaps you haven't even started to read It
 
 266 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 yet?" she suggests, seeing that no answer to 
 her previous question is forthcoming. 
 
 I assure her that I really have read her tale, 
 commencing to relate the contents, and betray- 
 ing myself by disclosing a knowledge of the 
 end. 
 
 "Then youVe read it all!" she laughs. 
 
 "Yes," I confess. "But only superficially, — 
 I merely thumbed the pages." 
 
 And she, with her deep voice, declares, "Oh, 
 my little story isn't so deep that it requires a 
 second reading. You may tell me your opinion. 
 I will not cry if my little piece is valueless. I 
 know myself that its worth is very small. And 
 as to my coming to you again, you needn't 
 worry. I have brought another manuscript that 
 I wrote in the past two days." 
 
 Heavens, what is that? Fie! What a scare 
 I got! 
 
 The black cat has sprung into the room. 
 
 I look at her in terror. And only gradually 
 does my astonishment master my fear. How
 
 THE BLACK CAT 267 
 
 did she jump in? For the window is closed! 
 
 I go over to the window. The cat presses 
 close to the wall underneath and gazes up at me, 
 as if entreating me not to cast her out. I raise 
 the shade. I examine the window. It is shut 
 and fastened. I examine the panes. Ah, yes, 
 down in the left-hand corner a small opening 
 has been broken through. A small opening, 
 forming together with the frame a triangle. 
 And the glass bordering the hole glitters with 
 many sharp, uneven, jagged edges. 
 
 When was the pane broken? How have I 
 failed to notice it sooner? Why has nobody in 
 the house noticed it? 
 
 And how has the cat crawled through? That 
 large black cat through such a small aperture? 
 She must have scratched her entire skin. I turn 
 to look at her and am seized with murderous 
 rage. I am about to kick her, and resolve to 
 throw her back into the rain and the darkness. 
 If only for the sake of the yellow canary that I 
 have in a brass cage in another room. But I 
 myself do not wish to do this. I don't care to
 
 268 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 touch the wet cat, and I feel sure that I'll stain 
 my fingers with blood. 
 
 I summon the housemaid and order her to 
 throw out the cat. She does not ask how the cat 
 got in. She is certain that some one let the 
 animal in and would like to know who could 
 have been so careless. Her first thought and 
 chief concern is the yellow songbird of whom 
 the entire household is so fond. She seizes the 
 cat and dashes out with it. She opens the 
 street-door and throws the animal out with 
 a curse. I wish to learn whether her hands are 
 smeared with blood, but she does not reappear. 
 She has gone back to her work. I am content. 
 For a long conversation would have ensued, 
 and I desire to be alone and undisturbed. I'll 
 find out later. 
 
 To resume. 
 
 She sat and spoke for a long time. She also 
 arose from her place and approached me, so 
 close that I could feel her breath and an odour 
 of new-mown hay enveloped me ; a warmth radi-
 
 THE BLACK CAT 269 
 
 ated from her, making me uncomfortably warm. 
 Several times she placed her hand upon my 
 hair, — my hair that was more grey than black 
 — the impudent cat! How dare she! Suppose 
 my wife should happen to come in and sur- 
 prise us. 
 
 She noticed my furtive glances toward the 
 door and laughed. She had seen my wife leave 
 the house, she asserted. With a young girl. 
 Was that my daughter? As she spoke she ca- 
 ressed my grey hair and looked at me with 
 those deep eyes full of endearment and desire. 
 And she added, with her velvety, resonant voice, 
 "I detest authors' wives!" 
 
 And then : "An artist should not be married. 
 He should be free — for all and each. . . ." 
 
 I maintained a significant silence. What 
 should I say to her? I must be careful with 
 this woman. 
 
 She took my hand and examined my fingers. 
 She held them long and tenderly, fondhng them 
 with her own thin, warm fingers. 
 
 Then I had to discourse to her about my ere-
 
 2 JO TEMPTATIONS 
 
 atlve work, and the touch of her fingers was im- 
 mensely pleasant, and I spoke with increasing 
 warmth and friendliness, so that she might not 
 release my hands. 
 
 All at once she leaned forward and kissed 
 me upon the lips, as I was in the middle of a 
 sentence, — in the very middle of a word. 
 
 Like a flash she disappeared from the room. 
 
 The cat ! The cat has again sprung Into the 
 room. Naturally, through the same opening 
 in the window-pane. I scold and curse. But 
 this time I'll not summon the maid. I open 
 the window, seize the cat by the neck and throw 
 her Into the street with all my might. I do not 
 see her fall, but I hear her strike the stony pave- 
 ment far off somewhere. There, now she will 
 hesitate long before she'll come. That is, if 
 she is able to move at all. 
 
 I close the window and sigh with relief. But 
 that hole must be stuffed. If It were not for 
 the Inclemency of the weather and the lateness 
 of the hour, I would send for the glazier. But
 
 THE BLACK CAT 271 
 
 for the present It must be stuffed with some- 
 thing. I hunt about, find a newspaper and stop 
 the hole. 
 
 Now I may calmly give myself once more 
 over to my thoughts. 
 
 A kiss. A bound. Vanished 
 
 She came the following day. With her deep 
 eyes, her deep voice and her singing youth. 
 
 I feared her coming; I tried to hope that she 
 would not come. No sooner had I caught sight 
 of her than my heart began to pound excitedly. 
 
 She had again arrived just after my wife had 
 left the house. Had she watched for her to 
 leave? How long had she been lurking out- 
 side? I asked her and she laughed. 
 
 Oh, what was the difference ! She had waited 
 much longer before coming to me for the first 
 time. The thought of using the manuscript as 
 a pretext had been slow to suggest itself to her. 
 
 But — wouldn't I prefer to come to her? She 
 had her own room. She might receive any one 
 she pleased; she was perfectly free.
 
 272 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 She said all this so simply. So sweetly, so 
 Innocently, so naturally, — with that deep vel- 
 vety voice of hers, and her fathomless eyes and 
 her intense youth. 
 
 I wanted to cry out. No ! I felt with all my 
 being that I should say No. But at the same 
 time I knew that the struggle was in vain. 
 
 She had ignited something within me, and I 
 was all aflame, — burning, burning. 
 
 She seized me in an embrace and pressed 
 upon my lips a long, passionate kiss. Within 
 me, my being shouted, sang and exulted. 
 
 I was young again ! Young again ! How we 
 both rejoiced! 
 
 To-morrow I am supposed to visit her. Un- 
 til to-day I longed for to-morrow to arrive. And 
 now I am afraid of it. To-day I do not desire 
 It. I tremble lest I go to her after all. Whither 
 will this lead? Who Is she? What is she? 
 Why has she singled me out? I have grey 
 hairs already and a grown-up daughter almost 
 her age.
 
 THE BLACK CAT 273 
 
 Isn't that the rustle of the paper with which 
 I stuffed the broken pane? 
 
 Yes. Somebody's clawing and tearing at it. 
 
 Or perhaps it's the black cat again! I jump 
 to my feet and run to the window. Yes. The 
 black cat has pulled out the paper and has al- 
 ready thrust her head in through the opening. 
 
 No! This time you shall not crawl in! I 
 place my hand upon her head and press, press 
 with all my strength. Oh, surely I'll crush the 
 feline life out of her! . . . 
 
 Yet. . . . Yet. . . . How strong she is! 
 . . . She plants herself firmly upon her fore- 
 paws and gradually thrusts herself backwards 
 through the opening and from under my hand. 
 And now she already has her forepaws on the 
 outer side of the window. ... I am seized 
 with terror. . . . Hot and cold chills pass 
 through me. ... I begin to call for help. . . . 
 
 Fie, what an evil dream! How my heart 
 throbs ! I go to the window. Outside it is still 
 raining; the night is black, and on the window
 
 274 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 ledge lies the black cat, peacefully coiled into a 
 
 ball. 
 
 I place my hot forehead against the cool 
 window-pane and am consumed by a passionate 
 wish. May the other one, too, be only an evil 
 dream ! And I shudder. 
 
 Oh! Oh! 
 
 To-morrow — to-morrow — to-morrow! . . .
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 
 
 ITSYE had for two days in succession had 
 nothing in his mouth; in other words, he had 
 been hungering. But on the third day, for 
 three brass buttons he wheedled the lunch out of 
 a little Hebrew school pupil that studied in the 
 school of his yard — two little buttered cakes — 
 and swallowed them eagerly. Then he became 
 angry. The cakes were a mere morsel to him, 
 but now he had at least a little strength with 
 which to feel anger, and was seized with an im- 
 pulse to accomplish evil. His fingers itched 
 with the desire. First of all he launched a 
 wicked kick in the direction of Zhutshke, the 
 little dog which the landlady of his house held 
 dearer than her own children. Zhutshke ran 
 off yelping with pain, but this was not enough 
 for Itsye. He tore up a stone that had been 
 
 frozen to the earth and with all his strength 
 
 277
 
 278 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 sent it flying after the dog. It did not strike 
 the animal, however, but landed on the door of 
 SImkIn the lawyer's house. It struck with a 
 resounding blow, and Itsye felt satisfied, for 
 he wouldn't have cared had the stone struck 
 SImkin or Simkin's wife on the head. 
 
 But with all this his hunger was not ap- 
 peased in the slightest, nor was his seething 
 heart calmed in the smallest degree. He waxed 
 still angrier, for he felt that these were mere 
 trifles, that he had accomplished nothing with 
 them. He walked through the gate, glanced up 
 and down the street, and felt that he was an 
 enemy to every passer-by, and especially to 
 every one that rode. He cursed them with bit- 
 ter oaths and would gladly, with his own hands, 
 have executed all tortures upon them. 
 
 Another little pupil approached the gate; he 
 was wrapped in a broad scarf and wore the 
 large shoes of a grown-up person. He held his 
 hands inside the scarf, and either because he 
 was indifferent or because it was too cold, he 
 did not remove them to wipe his nose, from
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 279 
 
 which mucus leaked down to his mouth. 
 
 Out of his pocket peeped a crust of bread. 
 Itsye was seized with a longing for it, but the 
 appearance of the poor child restrained him. 
 He sought, however, to convince himself that 
 he was incensed against the child, even as he 
 was against the whole world, and that he ought 
 to give him a hard kick, as he had just done to 
 Zhutshke. He seized the child by the nose, 
 then struck him on the cap and scowled, "Slob, 
 it's running into your mouth !" The child was 
 frightened, brought his elbow up to his nose and 
 ran off. But soon he turned back, looked at 
 his unexpected enemy and began to cry, 
 "Wicked Itsye! Itsye the bad man!" And he 
 disappeared through the gate. Itsye did not 
 even deign to lok at him. 
 
 He leaned against the gate. Why? He did 
 not himself know. At any rate, he was weary. 
 Angry and exhausted. The two cakes had only 
 excited him. Food, food! He could see be- 
 fore his eyes the piece of bread in the poor boy's 
 torn pocket. That would have come in very
 
 28o TEMPTATIONS 
 
 handy. He was sorry that he hadn't taken it 
 away A whole big piece of bread 
 
 He leaned more heavily against the gate, not 
 knowing why and not knowing what was to 
 come or what would result from his standing 
 there. The cold grew intense, but Itsye did not 
 feel it, for he was angry and paid no attention 
 to it. Besides, he had no place of refuge. Up 
 there in his garret it was still colder. More- 
 over, there was nobody there, and he would 
 have none upon whom to vent his wrath. 
 
 He stood thinking of nothing. It was im- 
 possible for him to think. He no longer knew 
 precisely that he was in a rage ; it seemed to him 
 that to-day he would work a very clever piece 
 of malice. He knew nothing about dynamite; 
 otherwise he would have thought unceasingly 
 of bombs, and would have painted himself pic- 
 tures of the whole city, the whole country, the 
 world itself, being blown by him into atoms. 
 But he gave no thought to any definite project. 
 He was certain that he would do something 
 malicious enough. He felt it.
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 281 
 
 Two labourers passed by and were conversing 
 about hunting for work. It flashed through his 
 head that he would stop looking for work even 
 if the employers starved to death ! At the 
 same time he felt that his seeking was all in 
 vain. He would find no work to-day, any more 
 than yesterday, or the day before, or the day 
 before that, or the whole twenty-seven days 
 in which he had been searching for employ- 
 ment. 
 
 In his mind's eye he could see "to-morrow," 
 — a dragging, cloudy day, on which he would 
 be faint with hunger. But he did not care to 
 think of to-morrow. Only "to-day." . . . 
 To-day he must accomplish something; then he 
 would know what would come to-morrow, the 
 day after, and all the other days. Wherefore 
 he remained leaning against the gate and looked 
 into the street with a cutting smile upon his pale 
 lips and in his dull, weary eyes, without the 
 trace of a thought in his head. He even ceased 
 scolding and cursing. 
 
 All at once he tore himself away from the
 
 282 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 gate and began to walk. He paid no atten- 
 tion to whither he went. He lost his bearings, 
 unknown to himself. He strode on, not know- 
 ing that he was moving. His feet were like 
 logs and he could scarcely lift them. He be- 
 came soon aware that he was no longer at the 
 gate, and that he was wandering about the 
 street. Then it seemed to him that he had 
 wished and resolved to take a little walk, only 
 he could not recall when he had thought of it. 
 It was good that he would now have a little ex- 
 ercise. His feet must get warm. But he af- 
 fected not to be troubled about his feet any 
 more than about the cold itself, which pierced 
 him to the very marrow. 
 
 He walked along slowly, cautiously, calmly. 
 The street on which he was led at one end to 
 the city-market and at the other to the municipal 
 garden. He had no idea of whither he was 
 headed, but the nearer he approached to the 
 market the shriller and clearer became the 
 noises from that vicinity. Then he realised the 
 direction in which his feet were taking him, and
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 283 
 
 again it seemed to him that this was exactly 
 what he had desired and determined upon. This 
 was the very spot for him to execute his plan 
 of vengeance. He stopped on the curb. 
 
 The great market-place seethed with shout- 
 ing, gesticulating persons. The air resounded 
 with the din of thousands of human beings. The 
 clamorous despair of the wretched poor, the 
 grunting indifference of the sated rich, the 
 screeching impudence of the money-hungry, — 
 all mingled here and rose above the heads of 
 the multitude, deafening the ears of the unac- 
 customed spectator. About Itsye all manner 
 of individuals were walking, hurrying, scamper- 
 ing, with and without bundles. Almost every 
 passer-by touched him, jostled against him, but 
 he stood there calm, motionless. It occurred 
 to him that this in itself was good, — that in this 
 manner alone he was doing harm. Yes, he must 
 continue to stand here and obstruct everybody's 
 passage ! His eyes, however, darted about the 
 square, as if seeking there just what form his 
 vindictive ire should assume. They rested upon
 
 284 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 the bread-shops and the bank-stalls, laden with 
 "Korah's wealth." And he began to contem- 
 plate how it would be if he made off with a 
 packet of bank-notes 
 
 A porter with a large case on his shoulders 
 bumped against him, nearly pushing him over. 
 He felt an intense pain in his back and came to 
 himself. He turned red with anger. 
 
 "You plague, you! Where are your eyes?" 
 
 The porter mumbled something from under 
 his burden and continued on his way with heavy 
 steps. 
 
 Itsye, however, felt the pain and rubbed his 
 back. 
 
 'T'll bury you together with the case, you 
 piece of carrion-meat!" 
 
 The porter craned his neck from under his 
 case and looked back at the shouting man. 
 Itsye's appearance called forth little deference 
 from the toiler; he stopped for a moment and 
 eyed his opponent with scorn. 
 
 "Hold your mouth, or I'll stop it for you so 
 that you'll be dumb forever. I'll show you
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 285 
 
 what 'carrlon-meat' means, you bloody dog!" 
 
 The porter went on his way, grumbling and 
 cursing. Itsye muttered a few Imprecations and 
 turned his head In another direction. 
 
 "What have you planted yourself here for, 
 In everybody's way?" he heard a surly voice 
 exclaim behind him. 
 
 He looked around. Kaplan, the shopkeeper, 
 was standing in the doorway of his shop, eye- 
 ing him angrily. He replied coarsely: 
 
 "What worry is that of yours?" 
 
 Kaplan grew excited. 
 
 "I'll soon show you what worry of mine It 
 is !" And he sent the errand-boy after a police- 
 man. 
 
 As he ran by Itsye the boy jeered, with mis- 
 chievous eyes, "Just wait a moment! You'll 
 soon have a good drubbing!" 
 
 Itsye spitefully refused to move. To hell 
 with everybody ! 
 
 Now then. What was it he had been think- 
 ing of before? And his glances began to wan- 
 der across the square and the faces of the
 
 286 TEiMPTATIONS 
 
 people, as he tried to recall his previous 
 thoughts. When he noticed the boy returning 
 with a policeman he turned his head indiffer- 
 ently aside. 
 
 "What are you standing here for? Move on! 
 Off with you!" commanded the guardian of 
 order. 
 
 Itsye slowly faced about. 
 
 "Is this spot private property, what?" 
 
 "Move on, I tell you!" 
 
 Itsye resumed his former position. 
 
 "Move on!" 
 
 The official was now in an ugly mood and 
 had raised his sabre. 
 
 Itsye felt that he must refuse to stir. But 
 something moved his feet. It was the instinct 
 that a policeman must be obeyed. 
 
 He went off. Back to his street. Slowly, 
 scarcely moving his legs, without looking back 
 at the official. 
 
 He was frozen through and through. It 
 was as If he had no feet. As he approached 
 the gate to his house he felt that It would be
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 287 
 
 pleasant to lie down a while. This he felt 
 against his will. He must remain in the street 
 because he was filled with rage and must vent it 
 in some vindictive deed. But his heavy, frozen 
 limbs drew him to his attic, where it was fright- 
 fully cold, where the icy wind moaned and 
 whistled. The wind was not so noisy here be- 
 low. It seemed that his feet knew he would 
 hunt up all sorts of old rags and wrap them 
 around his frozen members. 
 
 So he allowed his feet to carry him along. 
 On the way to the garret they overturned a 
 slop-pail and stumbled across a cat. It was 
 they, too, who opened the door of his room. 
 The door flew back and struck against some- 
 thing soft. The soft object fell, and the feet 
 had to step over a heap of tatters out of which 
 looked the parchment-yellow, wrinkled, peaked 
 face of an old shrivelled-up woman. 
 
 "Wow — wow — wow!" she began to wail, 
 hopelessly enmeshed in her rags. It was the 
 deaf-and-dumb landlady of his lodgings.
 
 288 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 He made no reply. The feet were already 
 In bed. 
 
 He slept for a long time. It was already 
 dark when the feet slipped down from the bed. 
 At once he recollected that he was angry, and 
 felt his ire course through him. But he was 
 weary and weak. So weak, in fact, that he de- 
 cided not to get up, but rather to lie there for- 
 ever. "A piece of bread!" flitted through his 
 mind. He could behold rows of well-provided 
 houses, countless kitchens, heaps of bread- 
 loaves. But he continued to lie there, because 
 he did not know, — could not begin to know, how 
 to get to them. 
 
 At last an idea flashed upon him. "From the 
 deaf-and-dumb old witch!" 
 
 He arose from the three-legged bed and 
 walked into the landlady's room. The bundle 
 of rags was seated at the table, before a small 
 night-lamp that lacked a chimney, eating from 
 a pot of water containing crumbled bits of hard 
 bread.
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 289 
 
 He approached the bundle of rags and indi- 
 cated with his fingers that he was very hungry 
 and wished a piece of bread. She clutched the 
 pot more tightly and began to bark savagely. 
 This meant that she hadn't enough for herself, 
 and that she didn't care to give him anything, 
 anyway, since he had struck her with the door 
 before, throwing her over, and since he wasn't 
 acting properly, not having paid his rouble and 
 a half rent for the past two months. 
 
 He knew very well just what her barking 
 signified, and eyed her as if deliberating what 
 course to pursue. Quite cold-bloodedly he 
 wrenched the pot from her grasp, pulled out a 
 piece of bread and crammed it into his mouth. 
 The tattered form seized him, with a frightful, 
 wailing yelp, and drew the pot toward her. He 
 raised it above her reach and continued to chew. 
 The first bite had excited him. He began to eat 
 faster, swallowing almost without chewing. 
 The old woman barked and howled at the top 
 of her voice, pulling at his arms. He thrust 
 her away. She fell upon her knees, grasped his
 
 290 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 legs and with a wild gasping and snorting bit 
 into them with her gums, in which stood only 
 two side teeth. He pressed her with his knees 
 to the floor and sat down upon her. She could 
 no longer move. 
 
 Now he would eat in peace. 
 
 He stuck his fingers into the pot without find- 
 ing anything. He almost yelled with fury. His 
 heart began to spring within him; his eyes 
 sparkled. He must do something. He sprang 
 to his feet and cried out, wildly, "More bread, 
 old witch!" 
 
 He shoved her with his foot, emptied the pot 
 of water on her head and began to look for 
 bread. He found nothing; there was nothing 
 to be found. He continued his search, how- 
 ever. He overturned the old chest, scattered 
 the bedclothes, broke the only chair. He be- 
 came furious, not knowing what he did. The 
 old woman seized him, dragging him toward 
 the door with terrified shrieks. With all his 
 might he thrust her off. The old woman's head 
 struck against the high oven; she groaned un-
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 291 
 
 cannily. Her moaning brought him to his 
 senses. He was frightened, and held in his 
 breath. He stepped toward her. Was she still 
 alive? The aged landlady began to arise. He 
 now breathed more freely and dashed out of 
 the room. 
 
 He was exhausted, yet excited. He desired 
 to weep, — to weep bitterly. He was thor- 
 oughly ashamed of the encounter with the deaf- 
 and-dumb landlady. He had robbed her of her 
 wretched supper and had come near killing her. 
 And his hunger was now greater than ever. 
 "A-a-ah!" 
 
 He pressed both his fists to his mouth and 
 began to gnaw at them. The pain grew intense, 
 yet he kept on gnawing. He wished to feel his 
 heart. 
 
 The door opened and the old woman ap- 
 peared. A narrow shaft of light shone over 
 the dark steps, falling like a grey strip upon 
 Itsye's shoulder. But the old woman did not 
 see him, and she sent after the supposedly van- 
 ished fellow several infuriated screams, more
 
 292 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 cutting than the most devastating curses. Itsye 
 shuddered, stopped chewing his hands and re- 
 mained motionless, holding in his breath. The 
 landlady returned to her room and locked the 
 door. 
 
 "Locked out!" flashed through his mind at 
 once. His head became warm. He tried to 
 consider what was now to be done, but he saw 
 no prospects before him. He felt an impulse 
 to batter down the door, enter the room, get 
 into bed and lie there. He had already rolled 
 his fists into a ball. But after striking the door 
 a resounding blow, he ran down the stairs. 
 Only when he had reached the bottom did he 
 ask himself, "Why that blow?" 
 
 It was snowing and a strong wind was whis- 
 tling and moaning. The cold went right through 
 Itsye's bones ; he began to tremble, and his teeth 
 knocked together. He huddled up in his tat- 
 tered cotton coat, from which there hung 
 patches, strips of lining and wadding. He 
 groaned in despair and stepped back into the 
 entrance of the house. He felt a tug at his
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 293 
 
 heart, and was once more seized with a desire 
 to weep, to weep. 
 
 "What will come of this? What?" 
 He could behold no answer. He would to- 
 day be frozen to death or die of hunger. 
 "Oh, for something to eat! Food, food!" 
 He looked about. He was standing near a 
 cellar, the door to which was protected by a 
 heavy lock. He placed his hand upon the lock, 
 with no thought of robbery. As he felt the cold 
 iron, however, it occurred to him that it would 
 be a good idea to break off the lock and obtain 
 access to the cellar. He pulled at the lock. No. 
 This was beyond his strength. He repeated the 
 attempt, and at length summoned all his force 
 and gave a violent wrench. 
 
 The lock merely made a loud noise; nothing 
 else. He was intimidated by the knock. He 
 looked around and quickly deserted the en- 
 trance to the house. 
 
 Had he really desired to steal? And if he 
 had succeeded in tearing the lock away, would 
 he really have entered and committed theft?
 
 294 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 He could not believe this. He had been born 
 Into poverty, had been reared as an orphan In 
 misery and Ill-treatment, yet his hand had never 
 been raised to another's property. "Scandal- 
 maker," they used to call him, and "wickedest 
 of the wicked"; for he never was silent when 
 wronged, and all were his enemies because of 
 this vindlctlveness. Yet these selfsame persons 
 admitted that you could leave heaps of gold 
 with him In perfect security. And just now he 
 had been on the point of stealing! That morn- 
 ing he had also thought of stealing. What? 
 Would he really have stolen? And perhaps 
 yes. Ah, he was so hungry! "Food, food, 
 food!" 
 
 Again he surveyed the neighbourhood. He 
 was In the street! He had not even noticed It 
 when he left the yard. What was he going to 
 do in the street? Whither would he go? "Oh, 
 for a bite !" But there was no sense In stand- 
 ing here In the street. He must walk. "Walk 
 wherever my eyes lead me, until I fall — fall, 
 and an end of me!"
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 295 
 
 Again his wrath returned. Anger against 
 himself and the whole world. At once, how- 
 ever, he saw that he lacked the strength to be 
 angry, — that his heart was growing weaker. 
 "Food, food, food!" 
 
 He staggered along, casting glances in every 
 direction and knitting his brows so as to see 
 more clearly through the thickly falling snow. 
 He had no notion of whither he was going, nor 
 was he at all interested. He was moving so as 
 not to remain on the same spot. He peered 
 more Intently than ever, although he felt that 
 he would see nothing but large snow-flakes. One 
 thing he knew very well, that he wanted and 
 must have something to eat, even if the world 
 came to an end. "Food, food, food!" he 
 groaned within him desperately. 
 
 He reached the municipal garden. The 
 pleasure-spot was situated upon a high hill, at 
 the foot of which flowed the broad, deep river. 
 During the winter there was usually skating on 
 the river, and above, in the garden, a crowd of 
 curious onlookers. But now there was not a
 
 296 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 trace of a human being in the garden. Not 
 even the lamps were visible through the thick 
 snow. They Illuminated only the space within 
 a few paces of them. Itsye was at a loss 
 whether to feel vexed or not at the absence of 
 people. He did not look back, and continued 
 on his way. He approached the top of the hill 
 and looked down upon the frozen river. He 
 could see nothing. There came to his ears the 
 shrill blows of heavy Iron. Moujiks were open- 
 ing a hole in the Ice. And In his weary thoughts 
 he beheld a broad, deep hole down there, and 
 he was drawn thither. The suggestion came 
 to him to hurl himself down from the hill Into 
 the deep stream. He would raise no outcry; he 
 would not call for help. He would drown him- 
 self quite silently. But he recognised that this 
 was merely a thought; the Important thing 
 was that he felt very weak and was ravenously 
 hungry. "Food, food, food !" He looked 
 about, as if he would have liked to see some- 
 thing eatable In the garden. Before him was 
 only the endlessly falling snow. Snow below
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 297 
 
 him, snow on the bare trees, snow in the air. 
 His legs bent beneath him — now, now he was 
 about to fall. But he did not wish to fall. He 
 desired something to eat, and gathering all his 
 strength he continued his wanderings. Again 
 he moved forward, not knowing whither. He 
 walked along a deserted path, through drifts of 
 snow that fell into his torn shoes, — all alone, 
 the only living creature in the dark, forsaken 
 garden. He could neither hear nor see any- 
 thing. He moved along because he had no- 
 where to go, and particularly because he wanted 
 something to eat, eat, eat. He thought of 
 nothing, nor could he think if he tried. Some- 
 thing was driving him on, and he continued on 
 his way with the despairing, inner groan, "Food, 
 food, food! ..." 
 
 He reached the square before the theatre. 
 The bright gleam of the electric lights brought 
 him to his senses. He stopped. As he did so, 
 he came near falling. He stumbled forward 
 and leaned against the wall of a building. He 
 felt that his shoes were filled with snow. This,
 
 298 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 however, produced no effect whatever upon him. 
 What did vex him was that he could scarcely 
 stand on his feet, that his heart was fearfully 
 weak and his desire for food persisted in grow- 
 ing. He would remain standing there. Whither 
 else should he go? Here, at least, it was light, 
 and soon he would see people. Many people, 
 — rich, happy. And what of it if he should see 
 the wealthy, sated crowd? He would beg 
 alms. He would say that he hadn't eaten for 
 three days. 
 
 Ask alms ! He shuddered with repulsion at 
 the idea. But he was so terribly hungry! He 
 had been on the point of stealing. Which was 
 better, stealing or begging? He leaned against 
 the wall, threw his head back, looked with a dull 
 glance into the snowy distance and, with his 
 blunted mind, sought a reply. 
 
 The night-watchman approached him and 
 pushed him away. 
 
 "What are you doing here?" 
 
 Itsye scarcely moved. He could not raise 
 his feet.
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 299 
 
 "Do you want to be arrested?" 
 
 Itsye nearly fell; he was greatly excited, but 
 he composed himself and gathered all his 
 strength in a desperate effort to walk off, Ouf ! 
 He could not feel his legs. Hunks of ice ! He 
 began to kick one foot against the other. 
 
 "Well! Get a move on! Faster, there!" 
 
 Itsye snarled through his clamped teeth. 
 
 "Can't you see I can barely move? What 
 are you driving me for? Better ask whether 
 Fm not hungry!" 
 
 He crossed the street. Several stores were 
 still open. Hadn't he better go in and beg 
 alms? He halted before a window. He de- 
 sired to consider what to do. 
 
 "I see you ! T see you over there !" he heard 
 the watchman shout. 
 
 He proceeded further along the street, at the 
 other end, where it was almost pitch dark. 
 There he paused for a while to kick his 
 feet again. Then he walked along. He 
 made a circle around the theatre and 
 came to a halt before the entrance. There
 
 300 TEiMPTATIONS 
 
 were no policemen in sight. They were 
 inside the lobby seeking shelter from the wind 
 and storm. Itsye remained there, hopping now 
 on one foot, now on the other. Without any 
 definite thoughts, utterly purposeless. He re- 
 mained here because it was light, because in- 
 side sat wealthy, sated persons enjoying them- 
 selves. He recalled that he had never been to 
 a theatre. He had never been able to spare the 
 price. It must be very pleasant inside of a 
 theatre, seeing that people were so enthusiastic 
 about It. Such varieties of entertainment folks 
 devised for themselves ! And he must stand 
 outside, covered with snow, frozen, hungry, 
 and would be joyful If he found a piece of 
 bread! His anger began to return. And he 
 recollected that in the morning he had desired 
 to do something, to wreak vengeance. . . . 
 Just what had It been? He wrinkled his fore- 
 head. Just what had he meant to do? 
 
 "Ah! Much I can think up In there, now!" 
 
 He cried this out with an Intense self-scorn. 
 
 He was terrified at the sound of his voice, and
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 301 
 
 glanced at the large glass doors. Nobody was 
 looking at him; then he had not been heard. 
 Whereupon this talking to himself became 
 pleasant. It afforded distraction. So he com- 
 menced to speak. Detached phrases, — frag- 
 ments of his weary, confused thoughts. 
 
 "I'll think up something, pah! . . . With 
 a knife. . . . Or set fire. . . . That's what 
 I ought to. . . . That's something! . . . 
 Let them all roast alive! . . . What am I 
 standing here for? . . . What am I waiting 
 for? . . . They wouldn't give me anything! 
 . . . They'd rather call the police ! . . . 
 Kaplan, — may the fires of hell seize him!" 
 
 He did not cease his chatter. And the more 
 he spoke, the angrier he grew. He forgot his 
 hunger, he now "felt" his heart. He cursed 
 with imprecations as bitter as death and felt 
 new life course through his veins. He cast all 
 manner of accusations upon the audience inside, 
 eating and drinking its fill and pursuing all man- 
 ner of pleasures. 
 
 "To steal from those people and murder
 
 302 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 them is not a bit wrong !" he philosophised. He 
 was now in a mood for anything at all, and 
 would commit in absolute indifference whatever 
 suggested itself. It seemed to him that his 
 strength could cope with any task now, — that 
 It was a giant's strength. 
 
 The glass doors swung open. The gen- 
 darmes appeared, followed Immediately by the 
 crowd. Itsye remained calmly In his place. He 
 did not even cease talking to himself. The gen- 
 darmes had not yet noticed him. They were 
 busy with the sleighs. Itsye was therefore able 
 to continue his conversation undisturbed. 
 
 "Here they are already !" he said. "They've 
 had a good time and plenty to eat and drink, 
 the dogs! In warm fur coats, arm in arm with 
 their wives, or even with prostitutes. ..." 
 
 A few passers-by eyed the snow-covered In- 
 dividual. 
 
 "Drunk or crazy," remarked one of them. 
 They went on their way. Itsye cried after 
 them: 
 
 "You're drunk yourself! I'm not drunk, you
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 303 
 
 curs! Fm hungry, you pimps! I robbed a 
 poor old woman of her supper, you scamps! 
 ... I, drunk! You curs! . . . I've been 
 hunting work for a month, cholera seize you! 
 Not a bit in my mouth for three days, you 
 dogs! ..." 
 
 A gendarme heard his voice and approached 
 to discover who was shouting and cursing. 
 
 "What are you screaming for? Move!" 
 
 The officer gave him a violent push. 
 
 "What are you shoving about?" cried Itsye 
 and he raised his hand against the officer. He 
 felt that it would be a treat to deliver a slap, — 
 a fiery slap. He waited for one more push. 
 
 The gendarme noticed his gesture. 
 
 "Ha, you Jewish jaw!" 
 
 Itsye's hand descended. The blow resounded 
 loudly. A crowd gathered. Itsye desired to 
 repeat the act. He was now wild. He wished 
 to strike about him, strangle persons, bite. But 
 he received a hard blow upon the head. He 
 grew dizzy and toppled over. Now he could 
 feel feet upon him. He knew that he was
 
 304 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 being trampled upon, but he could not open his 
 eyes, nor could he move a limb. Soon he was 
 lifted and dragged somewhere. With blows 
 across the back, the head and the stomach, and 
 with the ugliest oaths. He could not protect 
 himself. He could not even speak. Only rave 
 and groan horribly. 
 
 Softer and weaker became the raving and 
 the groaning, and at last he lay quiet, motion- 
 less. Dense darkness hovered over him, en- 
 veloped him, engulfed him. His eyes were 
 closed, but he felt the darkness. Like a heavy 
 load it pressed down upon him. He knew, in 
 an obscure way, that he had struck somebody 
 and had been beaten up badly in return. And 
 now he was quiet and peaceful, and he won- 
 dered at the peaceful feeling. He began to 
 grope about with his hands, his eyes still closed. 
 He struck against a hard, dusty floor. Where 
 could he be? The question flew through his 
 entire being In a most undlstlngulshable manner. 
 With a great effort he raised his eyebrows. 
 The dense gloom settled upon his open eyes.
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 305 
 
 He could see nothing and his eyes shut heavily 
 again. Once more he began to scrape about 
 with his hands and opened his eyes. Wider, 
 this time. Something dazzled him. Above, on 
 the ceiling, shone a small grey light. It en- 
 tered from the single window, which was built 
 in high on the wall. Itsye looked first at the 
 strip of light and then at the little window with 
 the iron bars. He eyed it for a long time. As 
 one who has awaked from a dream and has not 
 yet come to himself. 
 
 Suddenly his blood rushed to his head. He 
 sat up quickly. He recognised the bars and 
 now realised that he was in jail. They had 
 given him a good rubbing and had cast him into 
 a dark hole. He became strangely warm. In 
 a moment's time he foresaw everything that 
 awaited him : the blows that were yet in store, 
 — the trial and the sentence, — prison and the 
 prisoners' ward work. He groaned in deep 
 despair. Ah! And now he felt that his head 
 pained excruciatingly; his face and his whole 
 body, likewise. He hastened to feel his head
 
 3o6 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 and his face. His hat was gone. His hair was 
 moist and sticky. He touched an open wound. 
 With his fingers he followed the sticky trail. 
 Blood everywhere. On his head, all over his 
 face and on his bare chest. 
 
 He had a desire to weep at his great misery 
 and boundless despair. 
 
 "Father!" he wished to cry, and "Mother, 
 dear!" and "God!" Words that he had rarely 
 used; beings he had never known. His heart 
 contracted bitterly and he lay with his face to 
 the floor; his body shook convulsively with his 
 deep lamentation. 
 
 For the first time in his life was he weeping 
 so. His was a bitter nature, and as often as 
 life had brought him tears he had been able 
 always to swallow them. He knew that his 
 tears would soften nobody, — that they would 
 only make him ridiculous. They would mock 
 him as a soft-hearted fool; and that must never 
 be. With teeth clenched together this wretched 
 orphan had gone through life in eternal hostil-
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 307 
 
 ity to all about him. His eyes had been often 
 suffused with blood, but never with tears. 
 
 Now, however, he neither could nor desired 
 to hold them back. He wept until the tears re- 
 fused to come. Then he was overcome by a 
 fainting sensation, and he thought that death 
 was near. It would come to him just as he lay 
 there. He stretched himself out, closed his 
 eyes and waited for death. To lie thus, to fall 
 asleep forever and cease to be. To be liberated 
 once for all from the desolate days behind him 
 and from all the misery ahead. 
 
 He yearned for death. 
 
 "Ah, to die!" 
 
 Before his sight there began to float dead 
 bodies that he had seen during his life. Such 
 he desired now to become. Then he beheld be- 
 fore him the hanging form of water-carrier 
 Kirlllo. All at once he sat up. A certain 
 thought had raised him: he, too, would hang 
 himself. This waiting for death would not do. 
 He would not die so soon, if he waited. He 
 peered into the thick darkness and thought. The
 
 3o8 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 impression of his whole life rose before him. 
 Not a single day of happiness; not a moment of 
 rest. Years of unceasing care and of constant 
 struggle, of laborious toil and frequent hunger. 
 And the future threatened still worse. As black 
 as the dense gloom about him. Long years of 
 incarceration, in the prisoners' ranks, and then 
 — hunger once more. 
 
 He raised his eyes to the iron bars of the 
 window and felt the thick rope by which his 
 trousers were held in place. Then he looked 
 around and cocked his ear. Was anybody 
 there? He heard no sound. He could scarcely 
 lift himself up. His legs barely sustained him 
 and he was so dizzy. He reached out to the 
 wall and leaned for a moment against it. Then, 
 with soft step, he investigated the room, grop- 
 ing about with hands outstretched. Nobody 
 was there. He had frightened some mice and 
 could hear the patter of their retreating paws. 
 He stopped at the window and stretched his 
 arms upward. He could not reach the bars. 
 In one of the corners, however, there was a
 
 A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN 309 
 
 bench, against which he had stumbled as he 
 groped about the cell. With difficulty 
 he dragged it over to the window. The 
 effort so weakened him that he was forced to 
 sit down. Slowly he untied the rope around his 
 trousers. He began to fashion a noose, lapsing 
 into thought as he did so. Once more he looked 
 back upon the wretched past and forward into 
 the dark future. Again he could see not a ray 
 of light neither behind nor before. With teeth 
 tightly clamped he made the knot and cursed 
 life, and his heart seethed with bitter hatred for 
 all humankind. With the self-same noose that 
 he was now making, how gladly would he have 
 encircled the necks of every human being and 
 strangled the whole world. So, and so, and so ! 
 
 The noose had been ready for a long time, 
 yet he still sat meditating. He cursed and be- 
 rated humanity, calling down upon it all manner 
 of misfortune. Ah, how gladly he would re- 
 venge himself upon them ! 
 
 Gradually one thing became clear to him. 
 His death in itself would be a good vengeance.
 
 310 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 When day should come, and they would prepare 
 to resume their Ill-treatment of him, they would 
 find him dead. Ba-a-a! A plague upon all of 
 them ! Good-bye, Itsye ! No more Itsye ! No 
 more Itsye to oppress, to persecute, to aban- 
 don to starvation ! They would stand before 
 his corpse like whipped curs, crestfallen, and 
 would vent their Intense disappointment in a 
 vile oath. Ah, that was a precious thought! 
 
 He sprang hastily to his feet, jumped upon 
 the chair, reached to the bars and tied the rope 
 around them. His hands trembled; he shook 
 with fever. He poked his head into the noose 
 and kicked over the bench. 
 
 And as the rope tightened he was seized with 
 a desire to laugh. To laugh like a conqueror, 
 like a master. But his eyes began to bulge out, 
 his tongue protruded, and his face turned a pale 
 blue. 
 
 But the protruding tongue still mocked. 
 
 "Ba-a! Good-bye, Itsye! No more It- 
 sye 
 
 T "
 
 IN THE STORM
 
 A 
 
 IN THE STORM 
 
 PIOUS woman told it to me as a warning 
 to sinners, to the young, to the moderns. 
 
 Black clouds began to fleck the clear sky. 
 Dense, heavy storm-clouds. At first far off, 
 beyond the forest, but very soon they darkened 
 the whole sky over the village. A violent wind 
 lashed and drove them on, and they sped under 
 its whip, angry and sullen, menacing. The wind 
 — a tornado — raged in all the consciousness of 
 its formidable power, raising pillars of dust as 
 high as the driven clouds, tearing off roofs and 
 uprooting trees. 
 
 Terror had descended upon the village. 
 
 Bright day had of a sudden turned to night, 
 
 such as well befitted the Sabbath of Repentance, 
 
 the Sabbath before the Day of Atonement. 
 
 ... As frightfully dark, as oppressively 
 
 heavy as a pious Jew's heart, 
 
 313
 
 314 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 Folks shut themselves up in their houses, fas- 
 tening windows and locking doors. The earnest 
 faces of the penitent Jews became still more 
 earnest. The depressing moods of the Sabbath 
 of Repentance waxed still more depressing. God 
 was scolding. The sad voices of the psalm- 
 singers became deeper and more tearful. 
 
 The darkness grew blacker and blacker. Then 
 old Chyene raised her eyes from the psalms, 
 looked through her spectacles Into the street, 
 uttered *'Au-hu!" with trembling heart and 
 heaved a sigh. 
 
 For a while she sat gazing outside. She 
 shook her head. Her whole soul was full of 
 God's omnipotence. 
 
 It refused to grow lighter. The clouds 
 passed by in endless procession, and the wind 
 howled, whirling thick pillars of dust in its 
 path. 
 
 She could recite psalms no longer. She re- 
 moved her spectacles and placed them between 
 the pages of her thick woman's prayer-book, 

 
 IN THE STORM 315 
 
 rose from her seat and went into her daughter's 
 room. 
 
 "What do you say to . . ." 
 
 She did not conclude her question. Her 
 daughter was not there. 
 
 The old woman surveyed the room, looked 
 into the kitchen, then returned to the room. 
 Her daughter's bonnet was not in its place. 
 With quivering hands she opened the closet. 
 The jacket was missing! 
 
 She had gone! And she had warned her 
 daughter, it seemed, not to go out to-day, — that 
 on the Sabbath of Repentance, at least, she 
 might remain at home and not run off to that 
 "Apostate," the former student. 
 
 Her aged countenance became as dark as the 
 sky without. And her heart grew as furious as 
 the storm. She gazed about the room as if 
 seeking to vent her rage, — strike somebody, 
 break something. 
 
 "Oh, may she no longer be a daughter of 
 mine!" escaped in angry outburst from her
 
 3i6 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 storming bosom, and she raised her hand to 
 heaven. 
 
 She was not affrighted by the curse that her 
 lips had uttered on this solemn Sabbath. At 
 this moment she could curse and shriek the bit- 
 terest words. She could have seized her now 
 by the hair, and slapped her face ruthlessly. 
 
 Suddenly she threw a shawl over her head 
 and dashed out of the house. 
 
 She would hunt them both out and would 
 visit an evil end upon both of them. 
 
 A flash of lightning rent the clouds, and was 
 followed by reverberating thunder. Then flash 
 upon flash of lightning and crash upon crash of 
 thunder. One more blinding than the other, 
 one louder than the other! 
 
 The horror of the population grew greater. 
 That It should thunder on the Sabbath of Re- 
 pentance, and In such demoniac fashion! All 
 hearts were touched, all souls went out in 
 prayer. 
 
 Old Chyene, however, scarcely noticed this. 
 
 The wind blinded her eyes with dust, tore her
 
 IN THE STORM 317 
 
 scarf from her, blew her skirts about, twisted 
 the wig on her old head. 
 
 She rushed along oblivious to all. 
 
 She neither heard nor saw anything before 
 her. Within her It thundered and raged, it 
 stormed and something drove her on. And be- 
 fore her all was dark, for her eyes were shot 
 with blood. 
 
 Her small form grew even smaller. She 
 strode along fairly doubled up, hastening 
 breathlessly. She seemed to go faster than 
 the wind. The wind lagged behind her. And 
 whenever It caught up with her, It only spurred 
 her on, and she quickened her step. 
 
 She did not look around, did not remark the 
 Inquisitive eyes that peered at her from behind 
 the fastened windows by which she ran. She 
 neither saw nor heard anything. Her entire 
 being was merged with the fury of nature. Her 
 thought was a curse, a horrible curse, a deadly 
 curse. Not in words. But in her whole soul. 
 Within her it cried, it thundered, — drowning 
 out the thunder of the black, angry clouds.
 
 3 1 8 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 She stormed into the "apostate's" house. 
 She opened the door with a loud bang and 
 closed it with one even louder. Those in the 
 room shuddered at the sudden intrusion and 
 jumped to their feet. She cast a wild, hostile 
 glance at them and dashed through the rooms, 
 from one to the other, from the other to a 
 third. She tore the doors open and slammed 
 them behind her, accompanied by the thunder, 
 as if in a wager as to which of them would 
 make the panes and the windows rattle more 
 violently. A little child took fright and began 
 to cry. She ran from room to room, but neither 
 he nor her daughter was there. 
 
 Then she flew back. On the threshold, how- 
 ever, she paused for a moment. She rolled her 
 eyes heavenward and raised her arms to God. 
 
 "May flames dev^our this house!" came from 
 her In a hoarse voice. 
 
 Then she departed, pulling the street-door 
 violently and leaving It open. The household 
 stood agape, as if the storm Itself had torn Into
 
 IN THE STORM 319 
 
 the home. Out of sheer stupefaction the per- 
 sons forgot to close their mouths. 
 
 Out of the clouds poured a drenching rain 
 mixed with hail. The tempest seethed like a 
 cauldron. 
 
 This boiling tempest, however, raged in 
 Chyene's bosom. Something stormed furiously 
 within her. She no longer felt the ground be- 
 neath her. The flood soaked her through and 
 through, but this could not restrain her. It 
 served only to augment her savage mood. 
 
 She ran from house to house, wherever she 
 might have expected to come upon her daughter 
 and the "apostate." She stopped nowhere, ut- 
 tered never a word, but dashed in and then 
 sped out like a flash of lightning, leaving the 
 household open-mouthed with astonishment. 
 
 She should find them! Even under the 
 ground. And she did not cease her cursing and 
 her maledictions. 
 
 As she rushed from the last house she paused 
 for a moment. Whither now? 
 
 She turned homeward. Her heart told her
 
 320 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 that her daughter was now at home. Her lips 
 muttered the most terrible imprecations, and the 
 inner fury was at Its height; the very air, it 
 seemed to her, was laden with her cries, with 
 her curses and oaths. 
 
 With a strong gust of wind, a flash of light- 
 ning and a crash of thunder, she tore into her 
 home. 
 
 Her daughter was not there. 
 
 She sank upon a chair and burst into wailing. 
 
 There was a terrifying crash of thunder. One 
 of those thunderclaps that work the most wide- 
 spread havoc. Nature seemed to be shaking 
 off the entire residue of energy that had been 
 left to her by the hot summer. 
 
 The inhabitants of the village were rooted 
 to the spot In terror. They looked about, then 
 ventured a glance outside. Hadn't some mis- 
 fortune occurred? The penitents buried their 
 faces deeper than ever in their prayer-books, 
 and more than ever their voices quivered. 
 
 Chyene, however, had apparently not heard 
 the thunder. She continued to wail, to wail bit-
 
 IX THE STORM 321 
 
 terly. Then a wild cry issued from her throat, 
 as wild as the thunder: 
 
 "May she not live to come home ! May they 
 bring her to me dead! Oh, Lord of the uni- 
 
 verse!" 
 
 The clouds replied with a clap of thunder and 
 the wind sped apace, shrieking. 
 
 Suddenly she arose and dashed out as before. 
 The wind accompanied her. Now it thrust her 
 forward from behind, now it ran ahead like a 
 faithful dog, smiting all in its path, raising the 
 dirt from the road and mixing it with the thick 
 drops that fell from the clouds, which were still 
 black, and with the seething drops that coursed 
 from her burning eyes. 
 
 She was running to the road just beyond the 
 village. 
 
 They had surely gone for a walk on the road, 
 where they had been seen several times. She 
 would meet them on the way, or in Jonah's inn 
 near the big forest. 
 
 On the Gentile's lane, the last one of the vil- 
 lage, the dogs in the yards heard her hastening
 
 322 TEMPTATIONS 
 
 steps upon the drenched earth. Some of them 
 began to bark behind the gates, not caring to 
 venture out into the rain; others were not so 
 lazy and crawled out from under the gates with 
 an angry yelping. She neither saw nor heard 
 them, however. She only gazed far out over 
 the road, which began at the lane, and ran 
 along. 
 
 One dog seized her skirt, which had become 
 heavy with the water. She did not heed this, 
 and dragged the animal along for part of the 
 way, until it tired of keeping pace with her in 
 the pelting downpour. So it released her skirt. 
 For a moment it thought of seizing her in some 
 other spot, but at once, with a sullen growl, it 
 set out for its yard. 
 
 On the road the wind became still stronger. 
 And the thunder re-echoed here with thousands 
 of reverberations from the neighbouring forest. 
 Chyene looked only straight before her, into 
 the distance, through the dense, water-laden at- 
 mosphere. 
 
 The way was strewn with heaps of twigs and 
 
 M
 
 IN THE STORM 323 
 
 branches that had been severed by the lightning, 
 and even a fe(v trees lay before her, torn up 
 from their very roots, and charred. 
 
 "Would to God that the thunder would 
 strike them even so!" she muttered. 
 
 She was consumed by an inner cry. Now she 
 had found a definite form for all her curses. 
 The thunder up yonder had torn it from her. 
 
 And she ran on, on. ... 
 
 But what is this here? 
 
 A few paces before her lie two persons. A 
 man and a woman. With contorted visages. 
 In writhing positions. Their faces black as 
 earth, their eyes rolled back. Two corpses, 
 struck by lightning. 
 
 There was a brilliant flash, followed by a 
 deafening thunderclap. 
 
 She recognised her daughter. 
 
 More by her clothes than by her charred 
 countenance; more by her entire figure than by 
 the horribly staring whites of her eyes. 
 
 The girl's arm lay beneath that of the young
 
 324 TExMPTATIONS 
 
 man. The top of the open umbrella in the 
 youth's hand had been burned off. 
 
 The old woman was on the point of shrieking 
 a curse, of adding her thunder to the fury of 
 the storm's thunder; her eyes flashed together 
 with the lightning; In her heart there arose a 
 devastating tempest. 
 
 She wished to cry out the most evil of words, 
 — that the dead maiden had earned her end. 
 She desired to send after her the most wretched 
 and degrading of names. 
 
 Suddenly, however, all grew black before 
 her. A flood of molten lead seemed to pour 
 into her head. Weariness and trembling fell 
 upon her. Her garments, saturated with the 
 rain, seemed to drag her to the earth. Her 
 eyes were extinguished. 
 
 The thunder and lightning and shrieking of 
 the wind broke out anew. 
 
 But within the old woman all was quiet, dark, 
 dead. She sank to her knees before the corpse 
 of her daughter, stretched over the body her
 
 IN THE STORM 325 
 
 trembling arms, and a dull flame flickered up in 
 her eyes. 
 
 Her entire being quivered. Her teeth 
 knocked together. And with a hoarse, toneless 
 voice she gasped : 
 
 "My darling daughter! Hennye, my dar- 
 ling!"'
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 Thisfbook is DUE on die last date stamped below. 
 
 f- 
 
 MAR 141994 
 
 j\)^ '^ 
 
 'IS? 2 IKS FROM m mm 
 
 i\: 
 
 a -\» 
 
 w 
 
 , m 
 
 J^ FEB 41970 
 
 0AN30ig7G 
 
 N-^r^vr* 
 
 » -1 
 
 ?Ri: 
 
 Form L9-2rw-6,'49(B4568)444 

 
 ^ 
 
 Ai 
 
 3 1158 0091fi ftin 
 
 00916 8104 
 
 Simw" 
 
 "^ 000 67)827
 
 Mil-