And the guest took the cup of wine from my father's hand, and recited a
Kiddush. But what a Kiddush! A Kiddush such as we had never heard
before, and shall never hear again. First, the Hebrew--all a's.
Secondly, the voice, which seemed to come, not out of his beard, but out
of the striped Turkish robe. I thought of my comrades, how they would
have laughed, what slaps would have rained down, had they been present
at that Kiddush.
Being alone, I was able to contain myself. I asked my father the Four
Questions, and we all recited the Haggadah together. And I was elated to
think that such a guest was ours, and no one else's.