MARIANKA
107
Still clutching the aged Master's beard, he pulled the Rabbi's
face right close up to his own. Shifty eyes staring into his victim's
wide open ones, he repeated once or twice:
"Ten-thousand-roubles ... Ten-thousand roubles ..."
With the barrel of his revolver, he drummed on the old man's
nose, and with his vodka-infected breath, puffed in the Rabbi's
upturned face:
"And those mangy bolshevik dogs won't have that much,
anyway.... And now get me some food and something to drink."
He loosened his grip. Rabbi Mellakh for one moment longer
remained seated on the edge of the chair, his head bent back, in
the attitude imprinted by the other's punch. His well-groomed
beard was tousled. Heavily, he rose, stood very erect, his delicate
bony hand resting on the table. Only now did the shock of the
recent rough handling begin to manifest itself, and I saw his hands
begin to tremble, irrepressibly, convulsively. But his face, nothing
altered its serenity. His lips moved, imperceptibly at first, then
more openly, and I at length understood the modulation of the
words. As a result of my numerous visits to Myriam's father, I
had learnt to recognise many of the prayers and rites: Rabbi Mel–
lakh was reciting the prayer for the dying.
Feverishly, Myriam and her mother busied themselves. Before
you could say knife, the table was covered with the choicest goods
from the grocery shop. Their haste had a tincture of both the
tragic and the grotesque. Crazed with anguish, they ran to and fro
excitedly, their arms laden with dishes and bottles, stumbling
against the furniture and the walls, shivering like sparrows in this
cruel February snow. Rabbi Mellakh was praying.
The man who had remained outside now came indoors, and
the nine of them guzzled like famished wolves; obviously, they
hadn't eaten for at least twenty-four hours. Bottle followed bottle:
no sooner uncorked-no sooner drunk. And as soon as a bottle
was emptied, one of the men would take it by the neck and with a
brittle snap smash it on the comer of the table. Soon the whole
room was tinselled with glass.
The door remained open like the door of a coaching inn
where you have a warm drink between a change of horses. Winter
had invaded the izba with its sharp, giddying bite. Marianka
showed signs of a strange, perplexing activity, unusual sounds
