had made a fool of him, he
scratched the back of his neck below his collar, and began to abuse
Yainkel and all Jews with curses such as Fishel had never heard before.
His voice and his anger rose together:

"May you never know good! May you have a bad year! May you not see the
end of it! Bad luck to you, you and your horses and your wife and your
daughter and your aunts and your uncles and your parents-in-law and--and
all your cursed Jews!"

It was a long time before the peasant took his seat again, nor did he
cease to fume against Yainkel the driver and all Jews, until, with God's
help, they reached a village wherein to spend the night.

Next morning Fishel rose with the dawn, recited his prayers, a portion
of the Law, and a few Psalms, breakfasted on a roll, and was ready to
set forward. Unfortunately, Chfedor (this was the name of his driver)
was _not_ ready. Chfedor had sat up late with a crony and got drunk, and
he slept through a whole day and a bit of the night, and then only
started on his way.

"Well," Fishel reproved him as they sat in the cart, "well, Chfedor, a
nice way to behave, upon my word! Do you suppose I engaged you for a
merrymaking? What have you to say for yourself, I should like to know,
eh?"

And Fishel addressed other reproachful words to him, and never ceased
casting the other's laziness between his teeth, partly in Polish, partly
in Hebrew, and helping himself out with his hands. Chfedor understood
quite well what Fishel meant, but he answered him not a word, not a
syllable even. No doubt he felt that Fishel was in the right, and he was
silent as a cat, till, on the fourth day, they met Yainkel-Shegetz,
driving back from Chaschtschevate with a rumble and a crack of his
whip, who called out to them, "You may as well turn back to Balta, the
Bug has burst the ice."

Fishel's heart was like to burst, too, but Chfedor, who thought that
Yainkel was trying to fool him a second time, started repeating his
whole list of curses, called down all bad dreams on Yainkel's hands and
feet, and never shut his mouth till they came to the Bug on Thursday
evening. They drove straight to Prokop Baranyuk, the ferryman, to
inquire when the ferry-boat would begin to run, and the two Gentiles,
Chfedor and Prokop, took to sipping brandy, while Fishel proceeded to
recite the Afternoon Prayer.

* * * * *

The sun was about to set, and poured a rosy light onto the high hills
that