rning so
brightly and the old man talking so loud. Why need he speak in such a
high, rasping voice that it went through one's head like a saw?

"Ha? Is it your little boy who scratched my Aarontche's face? Ha? A
rascal is he? Beat him well! There, give him a little brandy, too--and a
bit of cake! He fasted too, ha? But he can't recite the prayers? Fie!
_You_ ought to be beaten! Ha? Are you going home? Go in health! Ha? Your
wife has just been confined?--Perhaps you need some money for the
holidays? Ha? What do you say?"

Mattes and Feivke started to walk home. Mattes gave a look at the clear
sky, where the young half-moon had floated into view. "Mother will be
expecting us," he said, and began to walk quickly. Feivke could hardly
drag his feet.

On the tall bridge they were met by a cool breeze blowing from the
water. Once across the bridge, Mattes again quickened his pace.
Presently he stopped to look around--no Feivke! He turned back and saw
Feivke sitting in the middle of the road. The child was huddled up in a
silent, shivering heap. His teeth chattered with cold.

"Feivke, what is the matter? Why are you sitting down? Come along home!"

"I won't"--Feivke clattered out with his teeth--"I c-a-n-'t--"

"Did they hit you so hard, Feivke?"

Feivke was silent. Then he stretched himself out on the ground, his
hands and feet quivering.

"Cold--."

"Aren't you well, Feivke?"

The child made an effort, sat up, and looked fixedly at his father, with
his black, feverish eyes, and suddenly he asked:

"Why did you cry there? Tate, why? Tell me, why?!"

"Where did I cry, you little silly? Why, I just cried--it's Yom Kippur.
Mother is fasting, too--get up, Feivke, and come home. Mother will make
you a poultice," occurred to him as a happy thought.

"No! Why did you cry, while they were laughing?" Feivke insisted, still
sitting in the road and shaking like a leaf. "One mustn't cry when they
laugh, one mustn't!"

And he lay down again on the damp ground.

"Feivele, come home, my son!"

Mattes stood over the boy in despair, and looked around for help. From
some way off, from the tall bridge, came a sound of heavy footsteps
growing louder and louder, and presently the moonlight showed the figure
of a peasant.

"Ai, who is that? Matke the smith? What are you doing there? Are you
casting spells? Who is that lying on the ground?"

"I don't know myself what I'm doing, kind soul. That is my boy, and he
won't come ho