CHAPTER XX.
A "CONSPIRACY TRIP."
Zorki was in a state of joyous excitement. The "Good Jew" of Gornovo,accompanied by a retinue of beadles, secretaries, "reciters,"attendants, scribes and hangers on, was pleased to grace the littlecommunity with his annual visit; so the Pietists had left theirworkshops and places of business to drink in religious ecstasy and toscramble for advice, miracles and the blessed leavings from the holyman's table. The population of the little town was rapidly increasing byan influx of Pietists from neighbouring hamlets.
Clara, with a kerchief round her head, which gave her the appearance ofan uneducated "daughter of Israel," was watching a group of men and boyswho stood chattering and joking in front of one of the best houses intown, at the edge of the market place. It was in this house where theGood Jew made his headquarters every time he came to Zorki and where hewas now resting from his journey. The sun stood high. A peasant womanwas nursing her baby in a waggon, patiently waiting for her husband. Twoelderly peasants in coarse, broad-brimmed straw-hats, one of them withan interminable drooping moustache, were leaning against theweight-house, smoking silently. For the rest, the market place, enclosedby four broken rows of shops, dwellings and two or three governmentoffices--squatting one-story frame structures--was almost deserted; butone of the two streets bounding it, the one on which we find Clara atthis minute, was quite alive with people. An opening at one side of thesquare showed a sloping stretch of road and a rectangular section of theriver, the same as that which gleamed in Miroslav. The knot of men whichClara was watching all wore broad flat-topped caps, and, most of them,long-skirted coats. A man of fifty-five, short and stocky, with massivehead and swarthy face, the image of Makar, was the centre of the crowd.
"If you were a Pietist and a decent man," he said, in subdued accents,to a red-bearded "oppositionist" with gloomy features, "you would notwear that long face of yours. Come, cheer up and don't be a kill-joy!"And he slapped him on the back with all his might.
"Stop!" the Oppositionist said, reddening from the blow. "What's gotinto you? What reason have you to be so jolly anyhow?" And addressinghimself to the bystanders: "He has not had a drop of vodka, yet he willmake believe he's in his cups."
"What's that?" the swarthy man protested in a soft, mellow basso, "Can'ta fellow be jolly without filling himself full of vodka? If you were arespectable man and a Pietist and not a confounded seek-sorrow of anOppositionist you would not think so. Drink! Why, open the Pentateuch,and wherever your eye falls there is drink to make you happy. 'In thebeginning God created heaven and earth!' Isn't that reason enough for afellow to be jolly?"
The bystanders smiled, some in partisan approbation, others with amusedsuperiority, still others with diplomatic ambiguity.
The heavy-set, swarthy man was Makar's father, Yossl Parmet. He borestriking resemblance to his son. Clara stood aghast. If he wereconfronted with the Miroslav prisoner, the identity of the Nihilistwould be betrayed, whether the old man admitted the relationship or not.The only way out of it was to avoid such a confrontation by gettingYossl away for a few months. But then, once the Miroslav gendarmerielearned that a man named Parmet whose home was at Zorki was missing, thesecret could not last for any length of time. In compliance with Makar'swish, Clara decided to take him into her secret. Accordingly, shemingled with the men, took part in the joking, and by the time the crowddispersed she and Yossl were talking on terms of partial familiarity.Finding an opportune moment, she said to him, with intentionalmysteriousness:
"There is something I want to speak to you about, Reb Yossl. I have seenyour son."
The old man gave her a startled, scrutinising glance. Then, his facehardening into a preoccupied business-like expression, he said aloud:
"Where are you stopping?"
She named her inn, and the two started thither together. There were somany strangers in town, each in quest of an audience with the "GoodJew," and Yossl was so close to the holy man, or to those near him, thattheir conversation attracted scarcely any notice.
"It's a very serious matter, Reb Yossl," she said, as they crossed themarket place. "Nobody is to know anything about it, or it may be bad foryour son."
"Go ahead," he snarled, turning pale. "Never mind spending time on awoman's prefaces. What is up?"
"You know how the educated young people of these days are. There isnothing, in fact, the matter. It'll soon be over. But for the present itwould do him good if the gendarmes knew he was in Paris."
"Why, isn't he in Paris?" Yossl asked morosely. "I received a letterfrom him from there."
"Of course he is. Only, the gendarmes, in case they look for him, andthey may do so sooner or later, you know, the gendarmes may not believehe is there. So it would be a good thing if you could convince them ofit. Your son would be benefited by it very much."
Yossl took fire.
"On my part let him go to all the black ghosts!" he burst out. "'Theeducated people of these days,' indeed! First he will play with fire andthen he wants me to fight his battles! Would he have his old father goto prison on account of him? He is not in Paris, then? I am as clever asyou, young woman. I, too, understand a thing or two, though I am not of'the educated people of these days!' It is not enough that he has got introuble himself; he wants to drag me in, too. Is that the kind of'education' he has got? Is that what he has broken with his wife andfather for? The ghost take him!"
"Don't be excited, Reb Yossl," Clara pleaded, earnestly. "It's atreasure of a son you have and you know it. As to the education he hasacquired, it is the kind that teaches one to struggle against injusticeand oppression, things which I know you hate as deeply as your sondoes." A tremour came into her voice, and a slight blush into hercheeks, as she added: "Your son is one of those remarkable men who arewilling to die for the suffering people."
"But who are you?" he asked with a frown, "How did you get here? If you,too, are one of those people you had better leave this town at once. Idon't want to get in trouble on account of you."
They reached the inn, and he paused in front of it, leaning against awaggon.
"Never mind who I am," she returned.
"But where is he? Has he been arrested? Good God, what has he been doingto himself? What does he want of my old bones? Is he sorry his father isstill alive?"
"You don't want your son to perish, do you?" she said ratherpugnaciously. "If you don't, you had better get the gendarmes off histrack."
She went on arguing with renewed ardour. As he listened, a questioninglook came into his face. Instead of following her plea he scrutinisedher suspiciously.
"But why should you pray for him so fervently," he asked significantly."Why should you run risks for his sake? What do you get out of it?"
"Must one get something 'out of it' to do what is right?"
"Ah, may the ghost take the whole lot of you!" Yossl said, with a waveof his hand, and walked away. He felt sure that this young woman and hisson were in love, and he was shocked for the sake of Miriam, Makar'sdivorced wife, as well as for his own.
He made for a slushy narrow lane, but turned back, retracing his stepsin the direction of the house which was the Good Jew's headquarters, asalso the home of Miriam. It was the house of her uncle, Arye Weinstein,the richest Pietist in Zorki.
* * * * *
The Good Jew occupied two expensively furnished rooms which were alwayskept sacred to his use. They were known as "the rabbi's chambers" andalthough the Righteous Man visited Zorki only once a year, nobody wasever allowed so much as to sit down in his easy chair. One day, whenWeinstein caught his little girl playing in the "rabbi's bed room" witha skull-cap which the holy man had left there, he flew into one of thesavage fits of temper for which he was dreaded, and slapped the child'sface till it bled. The rabbi's chambers were never swept or dusted untila day or two before his arrival, and then half a dozen people worked dayand night to make things worthy of the exalted guest. The "rabbi'sparlour" opened into a vast room, by far the la
rgest in the house, whichon Saturdays was usually turned into a synagogue, and was known in townas "Weinstein's salon."
Miriam was a very bright, quick-witted little woman, but she was notpretty--a pale, sickly, defenceless-looking creature of the kind whohave no enemies even among their own sex. Her separation from Makar wasonly a nominal affair, in fact, the divorce having been brought aboutagainst the will of the young couple by her iron-willed uncle, who hadsucceeded in embroiling Yossl with his son as well as with himself soonafter the true character of Makar's visits to Pani Oginska's house hadbeen discovered; but Makar and Miriam had become reconciled, through aletter from him, and they had been in secret correspondence ever since.Yossl never lost hope of seeing them remarried, and, in order to keepthe memory of his son fresh in Miriam's mind, he had obeyed the Good Jewand made peace with the wealthy Pietist.
Yossl was in charge of the town's weight-house and was commonly known as"Yossl the weight-house man." When Feivish (Makar's real first name) wasold enough to be started on the Talmud, he left the weight-house to hiswife, devoting himself to the spiritual education of the boy. Everytime they sat down to the huge book he would pin the edge of Feivish'sshirt to his collar, leaving the child's back bare to the strap in hishand. Whenever his wife protested he would bring her to terms bythreatening to tell the Good Jew that she would have her son brought upas a dunce. He was going to make a "fattened scholar" of him. He wasgoing to fatten him on divine Law by main force, even as his wifefattened her geese for Passover. He was going to show thosefish-blooded, sneering Oppositionists that they had no monopoly of theTalmud. Often during his lesson a distracted look would come intoFeivish's dark little eyes, and Yossl's words fell on deaf ears. Then itwas that the thong would descend on the bare back. Feivish never cried.As the blow fell, he would curl himself up with a startled look, thathaunted Yossl for hours after. Feivish turned out to be a most ardentPietist. Once, for example, in a very cold wintry night, after the GoodJew had crossed a snow-covered lawn, Feivish, in a burst of devotion,took off his boots and "followed in the foot-steps of the man ofrighteousness" barefoot.
For four years the young couple lived happily, their only woe being thedeath of both children that had been born to them. But the Good Jew said"God will have mercy," and Feivish "served his Lord with gladness." Butthis did not last. Feivish was initiated into the world of free thought,and gradually the fervent Pietist was transformed into a ferventatheist. It was during that period that he first met Pavel and that hiswife's despotic uncle extorted a divorce from him.
* * * * *
While Yossl was twitting the red-headed Oppositionist in front ofWeinstein's house, Bathsheba, a daughter-in-law of the man ofsubstance, a plump, black-eyed beauty of the kind one's mind associateswith a Turkish harem, beckoned Miriam aside, in one of the rooms within,offering her a piece of cake.
"It's from a chunk the Good Jew has tasted," she said, triumphantly."Eat it, and your heart will be lighter."
"It will help me as much as blood-letting helps a dead man," Miriamanswered with a smile.
"Eat it, I say. You'll get letters more often if you do." For a woman toexchange love letters with the man from whom she has been divorced isquite a grave sin for a daughter of Israel to commit. The remedyBathsheba recommended was therefore something like the prayer of a thiefthat the Lord may bless his business. But then Miriam questioned thepower of the rabbi's "leavings" to bring a blessing upon any business.She smiled.
"How do you know it is nonsense? Maybe it isn't, after all," Bathshebaurged.
"You're a foolish little dear."
"If I were you I should eat it. What can you lose by it?"
Maria, a Gentile servant who had been longer in the house thanBathsheba, came in. She spoke Yiddish excellently and was almost like amember of the family.
"Take a bite and you will be blessed, Maria," Miriam joked, holding outthe cake to her. "It's from a piece the Good Jew has tasted."
"If I was a Jewess I would," Maria retorted reproachfully. "It's a sinto make mock of a Good Jew."
The other two burst into a laugh.
Left alone, Miriam was about to throw the cake away, but had not theheart to do so. She sat eyeing it for some minutes and then, making funof herself, she bit off a morsel. She acted like the Jewess of theanecdote, who, to be on the safe side, would kiss the cross and theHebrew prayer book at once.
* * * * *
An hour later Yossl was flaunting his son's Paris letter and cursing himto a new crowd in front of the Good Jew's headquarters.
"The ghost take him!" he said. "Indeed, the ghost is a well-travelledfellow. He can get to Paris just as readily as he does to Zorki."
The White Terror and The Red: A Novel of Revolutionary Russia Page 21