Jewish fiction; Jews -- Fiction; Pinski, David, 1872-1959 -- Translations into English; Short stories, Jewish
It seemed to him that he could not alter his promise to the
workingmen, who were to come that morning. He decided to leave
the house, so as not to be in when they came. Let Chyenke do as
she pleased. His hands would be clean. He began to feel a keen
displeasure that things should not be as he desired, and somewhere in
the recesses of his mind arose the thought that he ought to throw up
the whole business. But that was a futile notion. The wisest thing,
he thought, was not to be in when the workingmen came. He dressed
hurriedly and left.
“Where are you going?”
“Where I need to go.”
But Chyenke took no offence. She understood his idea and rejoiced.
“Aha! My fine statesman!” she spoke triumphantly, shaking her head,
after he had shut the door behind him.
Soon the workingmen arrived one after the other. Chyenke held herself
somewhat aloof, not even looking at them and feigning to search for
something.
“Where is Drabkin?”
“Gone out!” she mumbled in reply. “What is it?”
“We’ve come ready to work. He hired us. Didn’t he tell you anything
about it?”
“You’ve come ready to work?” she suddenly scowled, raising her voice
and filling it with all the venom of her anger. “Fine folks you
are! I tell you! Found a fool and.... What do you think? Found an
easy-mark, didn’t you? You ought to be ashamed of yourselves even to
mention such conditions. Why, it’s downright robbery! What do you
take us for,—millionaires? Do you think we’re rolling in roubles?
Where are we going to get the money to pay you such wages?”... She
was now screaming. “They found a fool and turned his head! With him
everything is right. Whatever you tell him, he lets you have your
way. If another fellow happened along at the same time and told
him to give away all he had, he would have done so. Does he stop
to consider? Does he care a jot? You were foolish not to ask him
four times as much as you did, as wages for sitting in his shop and
looking at him!... Bah! Upon my word!...”
“What’s all this screeching about?” asked one of the men with an
ironic smile. “You don’t want us? You don’t have to! We’ve had work
up to now and we won’t go around idle now. We didn’t come asking him
for work, either. He came to us!...”
“Suppose he did! Is that any reason for trying to skin him?” replied
Chyenke indignantly. “You came to the right place.... Do you think
you’ve got another fool here?”
“If we’re given, why shouldn’t we take?”
“That’s just the trouble. You struck a fool. But, thank Heaven, I’ve
a little say in the matter. If you’re willing to work at regular
rates then you may start in at once. If not, suit yourselves—I’ll
find plenty of hands.”
“We know nothing about all this,” insisted the men. “Drabkin told us
to come to work.”
“Just for that,” cried Chyenke in fury, “I’ll not take you even for
nothing. Let Drabkin take you! I am the boss here!”
For a while the workingmen eyed her with scorn, a smile of contempt
upon their lips, then they turned to the door.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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