"Nothing of the kind," said Belcovitch angrily, "A real living noise. The woman snatched it out of the pan and ran with it to the Rabbi. But he did not know what to do. Fortunately there was staying with him for the Sabbath a travelling Saint from the far city of Ridnik, a _Chasid_, very skilful in plagues and purifications, and able to make clean a creeping thing by a hundred and fifty reasons. He directed the woman to wrap the fish in a shroud and give it honorable burial as quickly as possible. The funeral took place the same afternoon and a lot of people went in solemn procession to the woman's back garden and buried it with all seemly rites, and the knife with which it had been cut was buried in the same grave, having been defiled by contact with the demon. One man said it should be burned, but that was absurd because the demon would be only too glad to find itself in its native element, but to prevent Satan from rebuking the woman any more its mouth was stopped with furnace ashes. There was no time to obtain Palestine earth, which would have completely crushed the demon." "The woman must have committed some _Avirah_" said Karlkammer. "A true story!" said the Shalotten _Shammos_, ironically. "That tale has been over Warsaw this twelvemonth." "It occurred when I was a boy," affirmed Belcovitch indignantly. "I remember it quite well. Some people explained it favorably. Others were of opinion that the soul of the fishmonger had transmigrated into the fish, an opinion borne out by the death of the fishmonger a few days before. And the Rabbi is still alive to prove it--may his light continue to shine--though they write that he has lost his memory." The Shalotten _Shammos_ sceptically passed a pear to his son. Old Gabriel Hamburg, the scholar, came compassionately to the raconteur's assistance. "Rabbi Solomon Maimon," he said, "has left it on record that he witnessed a similar funeral in Posen." "It was well she buried it," said Karlkammer. "It was an atonement for a child, and saved its life." The Shalotten _Shammos_ laughed outright. "Ah, laugh not," said Mrs. Belcovitch. "Or you might laugh with blood. It isn't for my own sins that I was born with ill-matched legs." "I must laugh when I hear of God's fools burying fish anywhere but in their stomach," said the Shalotten _Shammos_, transporting a Brazil nut to the rear, where it was quickly annexed by Solomon Ansell, who had sneaked in uninvited and ousted the other boy from his coign of vantage. The conversation was becoming heated; Breckeloff turned the topic. "My sister has married a man who can't play cards," he said lugubriously. "How lucky for her," answered several voices. "No, it's just her black luck," he rejoined. "For he _will_ play." There was a burst of laughter and then the company remembered that Breckeloff was a _Badchan_ or jester. "Why, your sister's husband is a splendid player," said Sugarman with a flash of memory, and the company laughed afresh.