"Is _Pesach_ over?" he said mournfully. "I don't remember giving _Seder_. Why didst thou not remind me, Rivkoly? It was so wrong of thee. Thou knowest how I loved the sight of the table--the angels always seemed to hover about it. _Chad Gadyah! Chad Gadyah!_" he commenced to sing in a cracked, hoarse whisper. The child burst into a wail. "Hush, hush, Yaankely," said the mother, taking it to her breast. "A--a--ah!" A wild scream rose from Moshé Grinwitz's lips. "My _Kaddish_! Take not away my _Kaddish_!" He sat up, with clammy, ghastly brow, and glared with sightless eyes, his arms groping. A thin stream of blood oozed from his mouth. "Hear, O Israel!" screamed the woman, as she put her hand to his mouth to stanch the blood. He beat her back wildly. "Not thee! I want not thee! My _Kaddish_!" came the mad, hoarse whisper. "I have blasphemed God! Give me my _Kaddish_! give me my _Kaddish_!" She put the child into his arms, and he clutched it in his dying frenzy. As he felt its feeble form, the old divine peace came over his face. The babe's cries were hushed in fear. The mother was dumb and stony. And silently the Vapour crawled in sluggish folds through the heavy air. But in a moment the silence was broken by a deep, stertorous rattle. Moshé Grinwitz's head fell back; his arms relaxed their hold of his child, which was caught with a wild cry to its mother's bosom. And the dark Vapour lifted, and showed the three figures to the baleful, agonized eyes of the hunchback at the open door. * * * * * IX DIARY OF A MESHUMAD * * * * * IX DIARY OF A MESHUMAD[1]