But what is his crime? What has he stolen? Has he robbed any one,--murdered?... Perhaps it is but a false accusation. Is that not an ancient custom and were not many such before? The soldiers smile as they ponder: What was the use of having all of us here? Would not half the number have sufficed! He is thrust into the passage. He steps forward. He walks directly on. The lashes fall upon him. But he curses no one, neither does he falter or fall.... A fit of rage overwhelms the soldiers. He walks on and on! The whips whistle in the air, fiendishly. They grip and coil around the body as serpents do. The blood of the emaciated frame gushes forth and does not cease! Whoop--whack! Whoop--whack! Suddenly a whip falling high, throws the skull-cap down to the ground. The doomed man notices it after a few paces.... He stirs and reflects. He turns round again and walks onward, serenely calm though covered with streaming blood. The skull-cap is on his head.[4] He walks on till he falls.... And when he fell thus, the Soul ran swiftly up to him, and seized the cap that had cost so many innocent lashes, and with it she flew up to the little window of Heaven. And the third gift also found acceptance! The pious Souls tried their best and spared no trouble: the doors of Eden were now open! And a voice of the “Oracle” was heard: “These are truly beautiful gifts, of surpassing fairness.... They may be of no practical use. They may not even serve for show.... But they are marvelous.” --Translated by Samuel P. Rudens. [Note 3: Soul is feminine in Yiddish. (tr.)] [Note 4: The head must be covered during all religious services.] THE JUDGMENT JOSEPH OPATOSHU I Simka, the fisherman, a massive, uncouth man, lived near Pincus, the teacher. Simka’s peasant hut, with its straw roof that was black with age, stood at the end of the Joldovka, where the latter descends, stairlike, between towering cliffs and falls roaring into the Vistula. From far it seemed that the hut grew out of the cliffs, that it rocked and washed in the water like a little boat, surrounded by great silver ribbons. The fisherman and his three sons stood coatless and barefooted with their trousers rolled about their knees, smearing large two-eared pails with cheese; Simka’s wife, a strong, ruddy woman with a three-cornered, white shawl on her head, also stood barefooted. The toes of her feet were webbed like those of a goose. She was mending great nets. The men put stones into the pails to prevent the current from carrying them away. When a pail filled with fish, they swiftly lit pieces of thin wood, so that the fish would not see their way out, and pulled the pail to the shore. The quivering fish were dumped into a net, which was fastened to a raft tied to the shore with thick ropes. Simka’s youngest son, Zelik, sat on the raft. He was about ten and had a wart near his ear. He threw pieces of bread into a flask of water in which a little goldfish swam about.