I.
L.
PERETZ
410
he was a Yeshiva student they found a partner for him, an old
merchant who talked him to death and simply lorded it over
him ....
* * *
It was dark in the mail coach; I could not see Chaim's
face , and to this day I don't understand how he knew that I was a
Jew...when he entered, I was sitting in the corner, dozing.. .!
might have given a Jewish sigh . Perhaps he felt that my sigh
had an affinity with his.
He told me that his wife comes from Warsaw, that even
now she dislikes Konskivala...
-She was born , you understand , in Hrubeshov, but she was
raised in Warsaw, by her "unkosher" family-she was an or–
phan ...In Warsaw she tasted other things. She knows Polish, she
can read German addresses fluently, she even claims to play an
instrument, not a fiddle, but some other kind of instrument...
-And who are you?-he asks, suddenly clutching my hand.
I gave up trying to sleep and, I must admit, he began to in–
terest me. A story about a young man from a small
town ...Something might come of this, I think to myself. I must
get more details, add something of my own to the plot, and I will
have a novel...! will put in a convicted robber, mix in a few
bankruptcies, throw in a dragon for good measure ; it might even
be interesting.
I bend over towards my neighbor and tell him who I am.
-Oho!-he says-so it's you, of all people...Be kind enough to
tell me, won ' t you , where a man gets the time and the patience to
think up stories? .. .
-You see for yourself.
-How do I know? You might have inherited a bundle and
are living on the interest.
-God forbid! My parents are both alive, may they live to a
hundred and twenty...
-Then you must have won the lottery.
-Not that, either. ..
-Then what?
