re only remained one
thing for me to do--to scale off the cedar wood from the sofa. For this
work I selected a very good time, when my mother was in the shop, and my
father had gone to lie down and have a nap after dinner. I hid myself in
a corner and, with a big nail, I betook myself to my work in good
earnest. My father heard, in his sleep, how some one was scraping
something. At first he thought there were mice in the house, and he
began to make a noise from his bedroom to drive them off--"Kush! Kush!"
I was like dead.... My father turned over on the other side and when I
heard him snoring again, I went back to my work. Suddenly I looked about
me. My father was standing and staring at me with curious eyes. It
appeared that he could not, on any account, understand what was going
on--what I was doing. Then, when he saw the spoiled and torn sofa, he
realized what I had done. He pulled me out of the corner by the ear and
beat me so much that I fainted away and had to be revived. I actually
had to have cold water thrown over me to bring me to life again.

"The Lord be with you! What have you done to the child?" my mother
wailed, the tears starting to her eyes.

"Your beautiful son! He will drive me into my grave, while I am still
living," said my father, who was white as chalk. He put his hand to his
heart and was attacked by a fit of coughing which lasted several
minutes.

"Why should you eat your heart out like this?" my mother asked him. "As
it is you are a sickly man. Just look at the face you've got. May my
enemies have as healthy a year!"

* * *

My desire to play the fiddle grew with me. The older I grew, the
stronger became my desire. And, as if out of spite, I was destined to
hear music every day of the week. Right in the middle of the road,
halfway between my home and the school, stood a little house covered
with earth. And from that house came forth various sweet sounds. But
most often than all the playing of a fiddle could be heard. In that
house there lived a musician whose name was Naphtali "_Bezborodka_,"--a
Jew who wore a short jacket, curled-up earlocks, and a starched collar.
He had a fine-sized nose. It looked as if it had been stuck on his face.
He had thick lips and black teeth. His face was pock-pitted, and had not
on it even signs of a beard. That is why he was called "_Bezborodka_,"
the Beardless One. He had a wife who was like a machine. The people
called her "Mother Eve." Of children he had