David sighed. Suddenly he perceived a stalwart Jew lounging at a
neighbouring door. He moved towards him, and broached the subject
afresh. The lounger shook his head. 'You may persuade that foolish
_Chassid_,' said he, 'but you cannot expect the rest of us to join
with these heretics, these godless, dancing dervishes, who are capable
even of saying the afternoon prayer in the evening!'
In the next house lived a _Maskil_ (Intellectual), who looked up from
his Hebrew newspaper to ask how he could be associated with a squad of
young ignoramuses. His neighbour was a Karaite, drifted here from
another community. The Karaite pointed out that Self-Defence was
unnecessary in his case, as his sect was scarcely regarded by the
authorities as Jewish. There were other motley Jews living round the
market-place--a Lithuanian, who refused to co-operate with the Polish
'sweet-tooths,' and who was in turn stigmatized by a Pole as
'peel-barley,' in scarification of his reputedly stingy diet. A man
from Odessa dismissed them both as 'cross-heads.' It was impossible
to unite such mutually superior elements. Again weary and heart-sick,
he returned towards the inn.
VIII
But his way was blocked by a turbulent stream of Jewish boys pouring
out of the primary school. They seemed to range in years between eight
and twelve, but even the youngest face wore a stamp of age, and though
the air vibrated with the multiplex chatter which accompanies the
exodus of cramped and muted pupils, the normal elements of joyousness,
of horse-play, of individual freakishness, were absent. It was a
common agitation that loosed all these little tongues and set all
these little ears listening to the passionate harangues of
ringleaders. Instead of hurrying home, the schoolboys lingered in
knots round their favourite orators. A premature gravity furrowed all
the childish foreheads.
With one of these orators David dimly felt familiar, and after
listening for a few minutes to the lad's tirade against the 'autocracy
of the school director' and the 'bureaucratic methods of the
inspector,' it dawned upon him that the little demagogue was his own
landlord's son.
'Hullo, Kalman!' he cried in surprise.
'Hullo, comrade!' replied the boy graciously.
'So you're a revolutionary, eh?' said David, smiling.
'All my class belongs to the Junior Bund,' replied the boy gravely.
'Then you're not so peaceful as papa!'
The lad's aplomb and dignity deserted him. He blushed furiously, and
hung his head in shame of his Moderate parent.
'Never mind, Comrade Kalman,' said another boy, slapping his shoulder
consolingly. 'We've all got some shady relative or another.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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