But he was vied in an utterly different light by Chashke, the old
woman’s daughter.
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, removing 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.
“What’s happened to you to-day?” asked Chashke.
“What’s happened? What should happen? It happened! They’re a pack of
bloodsuckers, exploiters, and that’s all!” he exclaimed, hotly.
“‘Sploiters, poiters,’” 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 supposed 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!...”
“Psh! 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 indignation.
Chashke eyed her mother with ironic triumph.
“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.
“Then you lie 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 like 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....
And Chashke gazed at him with eyes brimful 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! One worse than the other!...”