"Write!" he says impatiently. "Shall I give you the ink and a pen?" Without waiting for an answer, he pushes up to my sofa the little table with the writing materials. "Write, please, write!" And his voice is so soft and gentle, it finds its way into my heart, and I am no longer frightened. I sit up to write. I question him, and he answers me. "Your name?" "Jonah." "Your surname?" "When I was a little boy, they called me Jonah Zieg. After my wedding, Jonah Drong, but since the misfortune happened to me, Mad Jonah." "What is your German name?" "O, you mean _that_?... Directly, directly. Perelmann. You see my pearls?" He points to a torn, red kerchief round his neck, and says: "Real pearls, _ha_? But that's what I'm called. How can I help it?" "A wife?" "You had better _not_ put her down: she doesn't live with me. Since the misfortune, she doesn't live with me ... a nice wife, too. I would gladly have given her a divorce, but the rabbi wouldn't allow it. He said I mustn't. A nice little wife!" And his eyes grew moist. "She even took the child with her. It's better off with her--what should _I_ do with it? Carry it about? They throw stones at me, and would have hurt it." "One child is it you have?" "One." "What was your misfortune?" "May you know trouble as little as I know that! Folk say a devil. The Röfeh says, a stone fell into my head, and the soul, or, as he calls it, the life, into my belly. I don't remember the stone, but I have a bruise on my head." He takes off his hat and cap together, bends his head, and shows me a bare bump in the hair. "It may have been from a stone, but I _am_ mad--that's certain." "What is your eccentricity?" "Two or three times a day I have my soul in my belly, and then I speak out of my belly, and crow like a cock. I can't stop myself, I really can't!" "What were you _before_ the misfortune?" "I hadn't got to be anything. It happened to me early in the Köst.[103] That is why I have only one child, health and strength to it!" "Have you any money?" "I had a few gulden dowry. A lot of it went in remedies--on 'good Jews' ... the rest I gave _her_." "What do you live on?" "On trouble. The boys throw stones at me. I daren't go about in the market-place, else I might have earned something near a stall. At one time people were sorry for me and gave me things. Now times are bad--I have to go begging. I beg before dinner, while the children are still in Cheder. And it's little enough I get by it! The town is small; there are two mad people in it beside me. And now they say that yesterday the 'Lokshiche'[104] threw a saucepan at her servant's head. The servant is sure to go mad, quite sure! Only I don't know yet if she will crow as I do, or trumpet into her fist, like the rabbi's Shlom'tzie, or be silent like Hannah the Tikerin." MISERY I shall not call the little town by its name, but if I come across another such, I, too, shall begin to crow, like the madman....