--Er hāt kēin Māl, hēbt weiter ān der Meeliz-jōscher, auf Kēinem nischt geklāgt, nischt auf Gott, nischt auf Leut'; in sein Äug' hāt kēin Māl nischt aufgeflammt kēin Funk' Ssine, er hāt es kēin Māl nischt aufgehōben mit a Pretensje zum Himmel. Bonzje verstēht weiter nischt a Wort, un' dās harte Kol schlāgt weiter über: the angels, does not see their dancing around him, does not reply to Father Abraham's hearty "Peace be with you!" and being led before the Supreme Court he does not say "Good morning" to them. Bontsie is beside himself with terror. And his terrible fear is still increased when by accident he notices the floor of the Court Hall under his feet. Pure alabaster and brilliants! "On such a floor do my feet tread!" He grows stiff with fright. "Who knows what rich man, what Rabbi, what saint they mean!... I shall fare ill when he will come!" * * * * * In his terror he did not even hear the Presiding Officer's call: "The case of Bontsie Silent!" and his saying to the Advocate, as he handed him the documents: "Read, but be short!" The whole hall is turning around with Bontsie, there is a din in his ears, and through it he can distinguish more sharply and more sharply the voice of the Advocate as sweet as a violin: "His name," he hears him saying, "has fit him like an artist-tailor's gown on a graceful body." "What is he talking about?" Bontsie asks himself. And he hears an impatient voice interrupting him, and saying: "Pray, without similes!" "He has never, proceeds the Advocate, complained against any one, neither against God nor against man! There has never flamed up a spark of hatred in his eyes; he has never uplifted them with any pretensions to Heaven." Bontsie again does not understand a word, and the harsh voice interrupts him: --Ohn' Retorik! --Iow hāt nischt ausgehalten, er is' umglücklicher gewesen-- --Fakten, truckene Fakten! ruft noch umgeduldiger der Präses. --Zu acht Tāg' hāt men ihm male gewesen-- --Nor ohn' Realism! --A Mōhel, a Fuscher hāt dās Blut nit verhalten-- * * * * * --Weiter! --Er hāt alls geschwiegen, führt weiter der Meeliz-jōscher, afile wenn die Mutter is' ihm gestorben un' er hāt zu dreizehn Jāhr a Stiefmame bekummen ... a Stiefmame--a Schlang, a Marschaas.... --Mēint man doch efscher fort mich? tracht Bonzje. * * * * * --Ohn' Insinuazjes auf dritte Personen, boesert sich der Präses. --Sie flegt ihm žalewen dem Bissen ... ēher-nächtig verschimmelt Brōt ... Hāar-flachs far Flēisch ... un' sie hāt Kawe mit Schmetten getrunken-- --Zu der Sach'--schreit der Präses.