a bridegroom-elect, Tchitchick gave up playing
with me as if I were a clown; and he began to talk to me as if I were
his equal. He told me stories of the regiment and of musicians. "Mr.
Sergeant" had a tremendous lot of talk in him. But no one else excepting
myself had the time to listen to him. On one occasion he began to talk
to me of playing. And I asked him:

"On which instrument does 'Mr. Sergeant' play?"

"On all instruments," he answered, and raised his eyebrows at me.

"On the fiddle, also?" I asked him. And all at once he took on, in my
imagination, the face of an angel.

"Come over to me some day," he said, "and I will play for you."

"When can I come to you Mr. Sargeant, if not on the Sabbath day?" I
asked. "But I can only come on condition that no-one knows anything
about it." "Can you promise that?"

"As I serve God," he exclaimed, and lifted his eyebrows at me.

Tchitchick lived far out of town. In a little white house that had tidy
windows and painted shutters. Leading up to it, there was a big green
garden from out of which peeked proudly a number of tall, yellow
sunflowers. As if they were something important. They bent their heads a
little to one side and shook themselves to and fro. It seemed to me that
they were calling out to me, "Come over here to us, boy." "There is
grass here. There is freedom here. There is light here. It is fresh
here. It is warm here. It is pleasant here." And after the stench and
heat and dust of the town, and after the overcrowding and the noise and
the tumult of the school, one was indeed glad to get here because there
is grass here. It is fresh here. It is bright here. It is warm here. It
is pleasant here. One longs to run, leap shout and sing. Or else one
wants suddenly to throw oneself on the bear earth. To bury one's face in
the green sweet smelling grass.

But alas, this is not for you Jewish children. Yellow sunflowers, green
leaves, fresh air, pure earth or a clear day. Do not be offended Jewish
children. But all these have not grown up out of your rubbish.

I was met by a big, shaggy-haired dog with red, fiery eyes. He fell upon
me with so much fierceness that the soul almost dropped out of my body.
It was fortunate that he was tied up with a rope.

On hearing my screams, Tchitchick flew out without his jacket and began
ordering the dog to be silent. And he was silent.

Afterwards, Tchitchick took hold of my hand, led me straight to the
black dog and tol