Chashke felt as if she had just returned from a cemetery, where she had buried her dearest treasure. Drabkin, Drabkin!... And he had been _her_ Drabkin!... Ah, and up to that very day she had dreamed and imagined! Oh, to weep, to weep—— That night she had a dream. No, not a dream, for she could not fall asleep, and lay with eyes wide open, staring into the impenetrable darkness. She beheld how Drabkin was becoming a pot-bellied boss; all his thoughts were centred only upon how to enlarge his shop and fill his purse. Everything else was forgotten—every human impulse, every tinge of sympathy for the poor worker, every spark of compassion for the under-dog. Workingmen to him were hired slaves—and “Ephraim is supposed to work till nine o’clock at night and works till half-past ten; when he came to work this morning at half-past seven, they fell upon him like a mad dog....” And in the silent darkness it seemed to her that Drabkin struck a cruel blow upon the face of a little child who was apprenticed to him. A shudder ran through her whole body, and she began to weep hysterically. A heart-breaking, bitter weeping—— THE BLACK CAT THE BLACK CAT It has been raining for already two days,—a soft, leisurely drizzle, but an endless one. Often it increases in vehemence. It begins to patter upon my roof with rapid fury. Then it seems that at last it is over. Now the dense grey clouds will empty themselves and the downpour will cease. The great fury abates, the racket upon the roof becomes gradually quiet, yet the rain continues to fall, softly and leisurely. Often so softly that it seems to have stopped. Then I look out of the window with just a ray of hope that I shall see a clear sky. But by the wheels that roll incessantly across the pavement I recognise the eternal rain. The eternal rain. The eternal.... I lower the shades and turn on the electric light. Let it be night. I’ll seat myself upon the armchair before my desk and pursue my thoughts, and think and think of—— Of my fortune—or of my misfortune? It has come upon me so suddenly that I don’t know how to take it. The day before yesterday I was so happy, and to-day my heart is so heavy, so heavy.... I know that this is the effect of the ceaseless rain,—of the weeping, lamenting, grey, dark-grey outdoors. Still, I am so restless. My feeling comes from within,—comes over me from the depths of my heart and my soul. It seems to me that I _must_ be moody, and I cannot understand how I could have been so high-spirited the day before yesterday. I am vexed that I can no longer be so merry. So suddenly. So suddenly.... Can it have happened only ten days ago? Only ten days ago. * * * * * _She_ brought me a manuscript, which I was to read and appraise for her. Young—perhaps twenty, and maybe only eighteen.