"Is he still snoring?"
"And how snoring!"
"May he perish!"
"Wake him up. Wake him up."
"Leib-Dreib-Obderick!"
"Get up, my little bird."
"Open your little eyes."
I barely managed to open my eyes, raise my head, and look about me. I
saw a whole crowd of rascals, my school-fellows. The window was open,
and along with their sparkling eyes I saw the first rays of the bright,
warm early morning sun. I looked about me, on all sides.
"Just see how he looks."
"Like a sinner."
"Did you not recognize us?"
"Have you forgotten that it is '_L'ag Beomer_' today?"
The words darted through all my limbs like a flash of lightning. I was
carried out of bed by them. In the twinkling of an eye, I was dressed. I
went in search of my mother, who was busy with the breakfast and the
younger children.
"Mother, today is '_L'ag Beomer_.'"
"A good '_Yom-tov_' to you. What do you want?"
"I want something for the party."
"What am I to give you? My troubles? Or my aches?"
So said my mother to me. Nevertheless, she was ready to give me
something towards the party. We bargained about it. I wanted a lot. She
would only give a little. I wanted two eggs. Said she: "A suffering in
the bones!" I began to grow angry. She gave me two smacks. I began to
cry. She gave me an apple to quieten me. I wanted an orange. Said she:
"Greedy boy, what will you want next?" And my friends on the other side
of the window were kicking up a row.
"Will you ever come out, or not?"
"Leib-Dreib-Obderick!"
"The day is flying!"
"Quicker! Quicker!"
"Like the wind."
After much arguing, I got round my mother. I snatched up my breakfast
and my share of the party, and flew out of the house, fresh, lively,
joyful, to my waiting comrades. All together we flew down the hill to
the "_Cheder_."
* * *
The "_Cheder_" was full of noise and tumult and shouting that reached to
the sky. A score of throats shouted at the one time. The table was
covered with delicacies. We had never had such a party as we were going
to have that "_L'ag Beomer_." We had wine and brandy, for which we had
to thank Berrel Yossel, the wine-merchant's son. He had brought a
bottle of brandy and two bottles of wine made by Yossel himself. His
father had given him the brandy, but the wine he had taken himself.
"What do you mean by saying he took it himself?"
"Don't you understand, peasant's head? He took it from the shelf when no
one was looking."
"Gracious me! That means he stole?"
"Fool of the night! Well, what then?"
"What do you mean? Then he is a thief?"
"For the sake of the party, fool."
"Is it a good deed to steal for that?"
"Certainly. What do you say to the wise one of the 'Four questions'?"
"Where is it written?"
"He wants us to tell him where it is written?"
"Tell him it is written in the Book of Jests."
"In the chapter called 'And he took.'"
"Beginning with the words 'Bim-bom.'"
"Ha! ha! ha!"
"Hush, children, Mazeppa comes."
All at once there was silence. We were sitting around the table quiet as
lambs, like angels, golden children who could not count two, and whose
souls were innocent.
* * *
Mazeppa was the teacher's name. That is to say, his real name was
Baruch-Moshe. He had come to our town from Mazapevka not long before,
and the people called him the Mazapevkar. We boys shortened his name to
Mazeppa. And when pupils crown their teacher with such a lovely name, he
must be worthy of it. Let me introduce him.
He is small, thin, dried-up, hideously ugly. He hasn't even the signs of
a moustache or beard or eyebrows. Not because he shaved. God forbid, but
simply because they would not grow. But for that again he had a pair of
lips and a nose. Oh, what a nose! It was curved like a ram's horn. And
he had a voice like a bull. He growled like a lion. Where did such a
creature get such a terrible roar? And where did he get so much
strength? When he took hold of you by the hand with his cold, bony
fingers, you saw the next world. When he boxed your ears, you felt the
smart for three days on end. He hated arguing. For the least thing,
guilty or not guilty, he had one sentence: "Lie down."
"'_Rebbe_,' Yossel-Yakov-Yossels thumped me."
"Lie down."
"'_Rebbe_,' it's a lie. He first kicked me in the side."
"Lie down."
"'_Rebbe_,' Chayim-Berrel Lippes put out his tongue at me."
"Lie down."
"'_Rebbe_,' it's a lie of lies. He made a noise at me."
"Lie down."
And you had to lie down. Nothing would avail you. Even Elya the red one,
who is already "_Bar-mitzvah_," and is engaged to be married, and wears
a silver watch--do you think he is never flogged? Oh yes! And how? Elya
says he will be avenged for the floggings he gets. Some day or other he
will pay back the "_Rebbe_" in such a way that his children's children
will remember it. That's what Elya says after each flogging. And we echo
his words.
"Amen! May it be so! From your mouth into God's ears!"
* * *
We said our prayers with the teacher, as usual. (He never let us pray by
ourselves because he thought we might skip more than half the prayers.)
Mazeppa said to us in his lion's roar:
"Now, children, wash your hands and sit down to the party. After grace I
will let you go for a walk."
We used to hold our "_L'ag Beomer_" party outside the town, in the open
air, on the bare earth, under God's sky. We used to throw crumbs of
bread to the birds. Let them also know that it is "_L'ag Beomer_" in the
world. But one does not argue with Mazeppa. When he told one to sit
down, one sat down, lest he might tell one to lie down.
"Eat in peace," he said to us, after we had pronounced the blessing.
"Come and eat with us," we replied out of politeness.
"Eat in health," he said. "I do not wish to eat yet. But, if you like, I
will make a blessing over the wine. What have you in that bottle?
Brandy?" he asked, and stretched out his long, dried-up hand with its
bony fingers to the bottle of brandy. He poured out a glassful, tasted
it, and made such a grimace that we must have been stronger than iron to
control ourselves from exploding with laughter.
"Whose is this terrible thing?" he asked, taking another drop. "It's not
a bad brandy." He filled a third glass and drank our health.
"Long life to you, children. May God grant that we be alive next year,
and--and.... Haven't you anything to bite? Well, in honour of '_L'ag
Beomer_' I will wash my hands and eat with you."
What is wrong with our teacher? He's not the same Mazeppa. He is in good
humour, and talkative. His cheeks are shining; his nose is red; and his
eyes are sparkling. He eats and laughs and points to the bottle of wine.
"What sort of wine have you there? Passover wine?" (He tasted it and
pursed up his lips.) "P-s-ss! The best wine in the world." (He drank
more.) "It's a long time since I tasted such wine." (To Yossel the
wine-merchant's son, with a laugh.) "The devil take your father's
cellar. I saw there barrels upon barrels. And of the finest raisins. Ha!
ha! To your health, children. May the Lord help you to be honest, pious
Jews, and may you--may you open the second bottle. Take glasses and
drink to long life. May God grant that--that----" (He licked his lips.
His eyes were closing.) "All good to the children of Israel."
* * *
Having eaten and said grace, Mazeppa turned to us, his tongue failing
him as he spoke:
"Then we have carried out the duty of eating together on '_L'ag
Beomer_.' Well, and what next, eh?"
"Now we will go for the walk."
"For the walk, eh? Excellent. Where do we go?"
"To the black forest."
"Ha? To the black forest? Excellent. I go with you. It is good to walk
in a forest, very healthy, because a forest.... Well, I will explain to
you what a forest is."
We went off with our teacher, beyond the town. We were not altogether
comfortable having him with us. But, shah! The teacher walked in the
middle, waving his hands and explaining to us what a forest was.
"The nature of the forest, you must know, is as the Lord has created it.
It is full of trees. On the trees are branches; and the branches are
covered with leaves that give out a pleasant, pungent odour."
As he spoke, he sniffed the air that was not yet either pleasant or
pungent.
"Well, why are you silent?" he asked. "Say something nice. Sing a song.
Well, I was also a boy once, and mischievous like you. I also had a
teacher. Ha! ha!"
That Mazeppa had once been a mischievous boy and had had a teacher we
could not believe. It was curious. Mazeppa playful? We exchanged
glances, and giggled softly. We tried to imagine Mazeppa playful and
having a teacher. And did his teacher also----? We were afraid to think
of such a thing. But Elya stopped to ask a question:
"'_Rebbe_,' did your teacher also flog you as you flog us?"
"What? And what sort of floggings? Ha! ha!"
We looked at the teacher and at each other. We understood one another.
We laughed with him, until we were far from the town, in the broad
fields, close to the forest.
* * *
The fields were beautiful--a Garden of Eden. Green, fragrant grass,
white boughs, yellow flowers, green flies, and above us the blue sky
that stretched away endlessly. Facing us was the forest in holiday
attire. In the trees the birds hopped, twittering, from branch to
branch. They were welcoming us on the dear day of "_L'ag Beomer_." We
sought shelter from the burning rays of the sun under a thick tree. We
sat down on the ground in a row, the "_Rebbe_" in the middle.
He was worn out. He threw himself on the ground, full-length, his face
upwards. His eyes were closing. He could hardly manage to speak.
"You are dear, golden children.... Jewish children.... Saints.... I love
you, and you love me.... Oh yes, you l-love me?"
"Like a pain in the eyes," replied Elya.
"Well, I know you l-love me," went on the teacher.
"May the Lord love you as we do," said Elya.
We were frightened, and whispered to Elya:
"The Lord be with you!"
"Fools!" he said with a laugh. "What are you afraid of? Don't you see he
is drunk?"
"What?" queried the teacher, one of whose eyes was already closed. "What
are you saying? Saints? Of course.... The guardian of Israel. Hal! Hal!
Hal! Rrrssss!"
And our teacher fell fast asleep. The snores burst from his nose like
the blasts from a ram's horn, sounding far into the forest. We sat
around him, and our hearts grew heavy.
Is this our teacher? Is this he whose glances we fear? Is this Mazeppa?
* * *
"Children," said Elya to us, "why are we sitting like lumps of stone?
Let us think of a punishment for Mazeppa."
A great fear fell upon us.
"Fools, what are you afraid of?" he went on. "He is now like a dead
body, a corpse."
We trembled still more. Elya went on:
"Now we may do with him what we like. He flogged us the whole winter, as
if we were sheep. Let us take revenge of him this once, at least."
"What would you do to him?"
"Nothing. I will only frighten him."
"How will you frighten him?"
"You shall soon see." And he got up from the ground. He went over to
the teacher, took off his leather strap and said to us:
"See, we will fasten him to the tree with his own belt in such a way
that he will not be able to free himself. Then one of us will go over to
him and shout in his ear: "'_Rebbe_,' murderers!"
"What will happen?"
"Nothing. We will run away, and he will shout, 'Hear, O Israel!'"
"How long will he shout?"
"Until he gets used to it."
Without another word, Elya tied the "_Rebbe_" to the tree by the hands.
We stood looking on, and a shudder passed over our bodies.
Is this our teacher? Is this he whose glances we fear? Is this Mazeppa?
"Why do you stand there like clay images?" said Elya to us. "The Lord
has performed a miracle. Mazeppa has fallen into our hands. Let us dance
for joy."
We took hands and danced around the sleeping Mazeppa like savages. We
danced and leaped and sang like lunatics.
We stopped. Elya bent over the sleeping teacher and shouted into his ear
in a voice to waken the dead:
"Help, '_Rebbe_'! Murderers! Murderers! Murderers!"
* * *
We flew off together, like arrows from bows. We were afraid to stop a
moment. We were even afraid to look around us. A great dread fell upon
us, even upon Elya, although he never ceased from shouting at us:
"Donkeys, fools, animals! Why do you run?"
"Why do you run?"
"When you run I run too."
We got into the town full of excitement, and still shouting:
"Murderers! Murderers!"
When the people saw us running, they ran after us. Seeing them running
another crowd ran after them.
"Why are you running?"
"How are we to know? Others run, and we run too."
After some time, one of our boys stopped. And seeing him, we also
stopped, but still shouted:
"Murderers! Murderers! Murderers!"
"Where? Where? Where?"
"There, in the black forest, murderers beset us. They bound our teacher
to a tree, and God knows if he is still alive."
* * *
If you envy us because we are free, because we do not go to "_Cheder_"
(the "_Rebbe_" is lying ill), it is for nothing--for nothing. No one
knows whom the shoe pinches--no one. No one knows who the real murderers
are. We rarely see one another. When we meet, the first words are: "How
is the teacher?" (He is no more Mazeppa.) And when we pray, we ask God
to save the teacher. We weep in silence: "Oh, Father of the Universe!
Father of the Universe!" And Elya? Don't ask about him. May the devil
take him--that same Elya!
* * *