Part 2

Simka, the fisherman, a massive, uncouth man, lived near Pincus, the teacher. Simka’s peasant hut, with its straw roof that was black with age, stood at the end of the Joldovka, where the latter descends, stairlike, between towering cliffs and falls roaring into the Vistula. From far it seemed that the hut grew out of the cliffs, that it rocked and washed in the water like a little boat, surrounded by great silver ribbons.

The fisherman and his three sons stood coatless and barefooted with their trousers rolled about their knees, smearing large two-eared pails with cheese; Simka’s wife, a strong, ruddy woman with a three-cornered, white shawl on her head, also stood barefooted. The toes of her feet were webbed like those of a goose. She was mending great nets. The men put stones into the pails to prevent the current from carrying them away. When a pail filled with fish, they swiftly lit pieces of thin wood, so that the fish would not see their way out, and pulled the pail to the shore. The quivering fish were dumped into a net, which was fastened to a raft tied to the shore with thick ropes.

Simka’s youngest son, Zelik, sat on the raft. He was about ten and had a wart near his ear. He threw pieces of bread into a flask of water in which a little goldfish swam about.

Zelik grew in the woods like a wild goat. Often he disappeared for days at a time. He would climb into a salt barge and go miles down the river. Nobody ever missed him. Once when he was gone for a week, his mother said something about it, but the rest remained silent. There was a reason. When Zelik was born with the wart, his mother was very frightened and sent for the old witch to exorcise the child. The witch advised her to keep a close watch over the child, lest Wanda, the queen of Vistula, steal him. The fisherman and his sons firmly believed that the stretch of water near which they lived was demanding a human sacrifice, for their catches were diminishing every year. The water must have what belonged to it.

Each time Zelik disappeared, all of them kept still, thinking that the water had at last taken its prey. But each time he came back, as if to spite them.

The Vistula had cast him forth three times. And because of this Simka wished to know nothing of him, and did not want to teach him, and Zelik always walked around in rags and tatters.

“Why are you sitting there doing nothing, you fool?” the mother cried out at Zelik.

“Go over to the ‘teacher’ and ask him how much fish they want by Saturday.”

The boy caught up the flask with the goldfish, and ran into the wood.

Zelik thought that when he grew older he would not fish with pails. He would build himself a raft and catch fish with nets. And when he would grow rich (and he would surely grow rich) he would buy a pair of rubber boots with those long tops that would fasten with a buckle under the stomach, also a leather coat, and he would sail over the water in a real fishing smack, with a large steering wheel. Then he would build himself a house with a glass veranda, exactly like the one Pincus, the teacher, had. And perhaps he would give the goldfish to Rachel. She had been angry at him for the last two days, because he had cut off the tail of her black cat. But then, the cat deserved it. When the fish lay eggs she had no business to eat them. Yes, he would give the fish to Rachel. True, goldfish aren’t to be found everyday in the Vistula. But that was nothing. When he grew older he would catch a whale, cut its insides out, and sew a pair of trousers and a coat for himself from the skin, so that only his eyes would show. And then he would swim with his fins all standing straight up, down to the goldfish. He knew that they lived in the deepest whirlpools. But he would tell Rachel to change the water, and to throw in a few bread-crumbs.

Rachel sat on the veranda consoling the black cat that lay with a swollen back on a soft basket.

“My poor little cat. Does it hurt much? Don’t cry. Nikolai says it’ll heal soon. And Zelik’s wart will get so big, so big, see, like this,” and she stretched out both hands. “It’ll be ugly,” she laughed. “Zelik with a tail on his cheek!”

“Rachel, see, I’ve got a goldfish. Want it?”

Rachel turned away and pouted.

“I’m mad.”

“Why are you mad?”

“Because you’re a murderer.”

“But my father told me to. I swear. He even told me to put your cat in a sack and throw it straight into the water from the hill.”

“And you think you’ll be forgiven? God will punish you. Nikolai says your wart must become as big as the tail you cut off.”

Zelik lost himself for a moment. He put his hand to his cheek and it seemed to him that the wart was already becoming longer.

“It’s a lie. How much will you bet that I won’t have it at all by tomorrow? I’ve got something that’ll take it away.”

“What have you got?”

“I’ll put pigeon blood on it a few times, and it will dry and fall off.”

“Why didn’t you do it before?”

“Because mama says a wart is lucky. If I take it off before I’m thirteen, my luck will go.”

“Are you lucky?”

“Of course, see, the Vistula threw me up three times. And I can swim in the sea, too. My father is a fisherman so long, and he never caught a goldfish. And I know where they live, too. And you don’t know.”

“Where?”

“In the whirlpools.”

“Zelik, is it true that a whirlpool must get a man each year?”

“Of course. They live there together with the goldfish. You know, when I grow older, I’ll swim down there to the goldfish.”

“And if they won’t let you go back?”

“Eh, they’ll let me go back.”

“And what will you do there?”

“All the treasures of the sea are there. I’ll fill my pockets with gold and diamonds, and come back.”

“And you’ll take me, too?”

“You? You’re mad at me.”

“Of course I’m mad.”

“Then I won’t take you.”

“Don’t take me, then.”

“Give me back my goldfish.”

“The goldfish? Why are you so bad? Why did you take my cat and--”

“I swear I won’t cut the tail off again.”

“But you’ve cut it off already.”

“Rachel, where are you? The dinner is cold,” came the old servant’s voice from the house.

“I’m coming,” Rachel answered, and arose.

“Come to us tomorrow, Rachel. The storks are here already. You’ll come?”

“I’ll come.” She entered the house.

II

The woods whispered happily. The air was filled with resin.

Zelik, tanned like a gipsy, walked barefoot through the forest. He avoided the common path and trudged over the black, swampy, moss-covered earth. He was happy to feel the cool, soft earth yield beneath his feet like well kneaded dough. The boy had a key in his mouth, and whistled for all he was worth.

Rachel, happy, with flaming cheeks, with her shoes and stockings in her hands, followed him.

Sunbeams that had been hidden deep in the woods suddenly began to play and weave themselves around Rachel. They stole up from the rear, kissed her, sprang back, and all of a sudden sprayed her with such silver light, she half closed her eyes, and shrieked happily.

The birds became happier, springing up suddenly from the deep grass, and flapping their wings. They remained hanging against the flaming sun, trilling their songs.

The woods whispered joyously. They smelled of resin. It seemed that scores of fiddlers were scattered all over the woods. They had grown tired and gradually had ceased their playing. But seeing the barefooted children hand in hand on the soft ground, they began to feel younger, and rubbed their bows rapidly against the yellow resin, and the tall pines trembled like tightly stretched violin strings, and they roared like a far, quiet sea--Youth, O Youth.

When they came out of the wood the two sat down on the bank of the Vistula, and began to bathe their muddy feet in the clear water.

Wide green fields spotted with yellow flowers stretched on the other margin of the Vistula. A white stork with a black tail startled over the field. He lifted his red legs like stilts. He raised proudly his long neck with its red beak, and noisily swallowed small green toads. When the sun appeared from behind a cloud, and began to shine, the stork stood up on one leg, hid its beak and half of its head under its wing, and remained standing in the middle of the field as if it were painted.

“Rachel, you know what would be nice?”

“What?”

“Swear you won’t tell anybody.”

“I swear.”

“Go ’way. I think you will tell.”

“I swear I won’t, Zelik.”

“Remember now.” He lifted a finger to his nose. “You know what I’ve thought of?”

“What?”

“You’ll never guess,” he laughed.

“Oh, tell me,” Rachel begged, taking Zelik’s hand and rubbing a little wet foot against his.

“You know, if we could get a goose-egg, it would be so nice.”

“Why do you need a goose-egg?”

“I would put it into the stork’s nest, and it would hatch out a half-stork, half-goose.”

“Will the stork let you do it?”

“I’ll put it in before dawn, when both aren’t in the nest.”

“Zelik, you know what brings babies? Braina says that a stork brings the babies in a little basket. Where do the babies live?”

“In heaven.”

“And when it rains?”

“When it rains? I don’t know. I suppose they hide when the clouds come down to the Vis’la to drink.”

“And the stork that stands over there, can it bring babies, too?”

“Of course,” and Zelik stretched his hands. “Such a heap of babies.”

“Go ’way, I’d be ashamed of Braina to bring a baby home. A little girl mustn’t have babies. You must marry first, no?”

“Well, why did the Forester’s Franka have a baby? She never married.”

“But she’s not a Jewess.”

A second stork, slightly smaller, with chalk white wings, gently descended on the field. The he-stork in the middle of the field, seemed to awake as from sleep, spread his wings, lifted his long neck, yawned, and began to run around and around the she-stork with his head lowered, crying, “Clia-clia.” He stopped, lifted his slightly opened, red beak, in which he held a green toad, looked at the she-stork proudly, as if saying, “My wife will never die of hunger,” and gave her the toad. And while she scarcely lifted her neck, rolled her eyes and swallowed the toad that was averse to make the journey down her throat, he pecked her lovingly with his beak, put his head under her wing and looked for something. He stood on one leg again, began to slap his wings, flew around the she-stork, ogled her, stretching his long, limber neck, and the erstwhile silent bird began to sing, “Clia-clia-qua, Clia-clia-qua.”

Zelik came out of the water.

“Go home, Rachel, and bring an egg. The nest is empty by now. Put on your shoes.”

Rachel joyously put on her shoes. She felt more comfortable, and jumped up.

“Well, why don’t you go?”

“I’m too lazy to go myself.”

“Then I’ll go with you. All right?”

The children leaping up and taking each other by the hand, were lost from sight in the woods.

III

Zelik approached the barn where the storks had built their nest. He took the egg from Rachel, held it in his lips, and swiftly like a cat began to climb the straight wall. He grasped a jutting piece of wood, waited a little as if seeking balance, and threw his body on to the roof. The nest was made of an old wooden harrow. In the harrow lay a basket, filled with grass and twigs. The close odor of fish, toads, and chickens, struck Zelik in the face. Three large eggs lay in the nest. He took out one of them, replaced it with the goose-egg, and wanted to descend from the roof, when the two storks suddenly appeared and flew at him with wide-spread wings. Zelik barely had time to get down, but he was so frightened lest the storks attack him that he remained standing with the egg in both hands.

Rachel shrieked loudly.

“Zelik, jump down.”

Zelik, crouched, covered his face with both hands, like one expecting a blow, and began to slide down the incline of the roof.

The he-stork, flying swiftly by, stretched his long neck and directed his sharp beak at Zelik’s face. Zelik dodged the beak of the stork, caught the blow in his back, and fell from the roof like a stone. The egg broke and covered him with yellow liquid.

Rachel thought that Zelik was surely dead from the blow. She began to pinch herself from fear, fell to her knees before Zelik, embraced him with both hands, and began to kiss him and to cry.

“Zelik, my dear, does it hurt you much, tell me? It’s all my fault. Why did I bring the egg?”

When Zelik recovered from the blow, he felt a sharp pain in his back, and remembered that the stork had picked at him. Rachel, when she saw blood on his coat, put her hands to her head.

“O, mama, blood.”

She again dropped to her knees before Zelik and began to entreat.

“Zelik, my dear, come to us. Braina will put something on it. She won’t tell anybody. You’ll see. I beg you, Zelik, come.”

She kissed him and began to cry again. “It’s all my fault.”

Zelik, seeing her cry, became really frightened. He forgot his pain, and stood up.

“Come, Rachel. We’ll go down to the water. You’ll wash off the blood. All right? Don’t cry. It’s nothing. I have had bigger holes in my head and they healed.”

“Are you mad at me, Zelik?”

“No.”

“You want us to be friends forever?”

“Of course.”

“See, I love you so much,” Rachel said, and bit hard into the flesh of the arm above the elbow. All her teeth left red marks on the skin.

They were silent. They walked over the dry branches that cracked under their feet, in the direction of the River.

Rachel, like a little mother, began to attend on Zelik. She took off his coat, then his shirt, forgetting that a girl must not look on a naked boy. She took her white apron, dipped it into the cold water, and washed Zelik’s wound. Zelik lay on his stomach like a little wounded animal. He did not move. He was happy to know that Rachel was busy about him. When she had washed the wound, she removed the stains from the apron, wrung it out, put it on the wound, went with him into the bushes in the shade, and told him to lie down with his face in her lap, so that the wound should dry a little.

Zelik obeyed. He fell asleep almost at once.

At short intervals Rachel lifted the apron, and looked to see if the wound had dried. But the wound still ran blood. Her heart overflowed with sorrow, and she began to weep quietly. And thus, weeping with red, brimming eyes, Rachel nestled her little head among the leaves, and also fell asleep.

IV

The she-stork did not leave her nest the whole morning. She watched how her young pecked their way out of the shells.

The he-stork was upset. He flew about the nest uttering strange cries, every now and then fetching something to his mate, strutting swiftly above the nest with a shrunken neck almost hidden beneath his wings. He resembled a young man whose wife is giving birth to her first child.

The she-bird emitted a strange “Clia-clia.” The he-bird sat down, spread his wings, and guarded the nest. For a moment he seemed to be confused and looked at his mate who had lowered her head in shame as if she were saying, “I swear I am not guilty.” A little gosling rolled out of a broken egg-shell. The he-stork felt that all in him was trembling, and like a cuckold husband he threw himself at this mate, pecking her feathers with his beak. She lowered her head still more, moved closer to him and like a really guilty one, made no resistance. All in her seemed to say, “Go on beating me.”

The he-stork picked the gosling up with his beak, caught it by the head, and threw it down from the barn top. He began to destroy the nest with his beak and legs, looking no longer at his mate. Then he rested awhile, and flew away.

The she-stork smoothed her feathers, and began to sharpen the point of her beak, knowing that she was lost, that “he” had flown to tell the flock about her sin.

She lifted one foot, began to sharpen her beak still harder against the harrow, and wept in her own way. She was sure that it was not her fault, that a misfortune had befallen her, and she thought she would tell it to the elders of the flock. She would show them the two other children, real little storks, with red feet and red beaks. And she wept again.

Zelik and Rachel sat on the raft.

“You know, Rachel?”

“What?”

“From now on I’ll be able to swim just like a duck.”

“How?”

“I’ll cut into my toes--”

“You mustn’t do it, do you hear, Zelik? I swear, I’ll always be mad at you, always!”

“Well, let me finish. Listen to me first.”

“I won’t let you anyway.”

“I’ll take the skins of some goose-feet, fasten them between my toes, and keep them there till they grow into me, and then--”

“And won’t your toes bleed?” Rachel cut him short.

“Of course, they won’t. Ofelo taught me to cut a finger with the sharpest knife so that no blood would flow. And her mother is a witch.”

“But you are mad with Ofelo.”

“Of course, I’m mad with her. You know, Rachel, Ofelo knows of a grass that if you lick it, you sleep a whole day and night. You don’t believe me? I swear it.”

“She does?”

They were silent for a while.

“Zelik, is it really true that Ofelo’s mother walks in shoes made of the veins of men?”

“Of course, you know, Ofelo’s mother can turn into a straw and hide herself in the smallest crack. She is a real witch.”

The Vistula rippled. The ripples widened into rings. The rings grew longer, swallowed each other and grew still larger and larger, and the erstwhile quiet Vistula, that had looked like a crystal mirror, grew dark and rigid.

A swallow fluttered by, and seeing other swallows in the water he dropped from on high, dipped his beak into the Vistula. The Vistula rippled again.

Zelik related that below the “black stone,” in a glass palace lived Wanda, the queen of the Vistula. In the summer, during the great heat, when the Vistula grew shallow, Wanda and her sisters gathered on the stone and kidnapped little children. She had attempted to catch him three times but he knew a secret saying, which he uttered and that caused a fiery ring to grow between him and her, and she could not reach him.

“Zelik, why does Wanda need so many children?”

“Why does she need them? She kisses them till their souls leave their bodies, and then she eats their hearts.”

The children saw a flock of storks settle on an island in the middle of the Vistula.

“They’re going to have a wedding,” Zelik said, turning to Rachel. “Come, we’ll get there with the boat.”

He unbound the boat from the raft. Rachel looked around to see if any of her folks noticed them, and sprang joyously into it.

Rachel saw the little crystal waves leap up, swallow each other, and blend before her eyes. She became still happier, and gave a strange shriek.

They landed on the island, dragged the boat on to the shore, and lay down in the grass.

The storks sat in a wide semi-circle. Two old storks like two prominent citizens, walked in the center of the ring. The “he-stork” came flying, holding the dead gosling in his beak, and carried it to the old pair. “Here, look.”

The old storks looked long at the gosling, smelled it, threw it around with their long necks, made some strange sounds and two storks rose and flew away.

Soon they came back with the “she-stork.” The messengers with a “Clia-clia, clia-clia,” told of her explanation.

The storks again became noisy and excited, broke their ring, pressed into one heap, and from far it seemed that a broad-boned monster, with tens of agile heads stood in the middle of the Vistula, and cried “Clia-clia, clia-clia.”

The storks surrounded the “she-stork.” The mate approached her, poked her in the head, and then great long necks with open beaks flew at her from all sides, feathers whirled in the air, and the bird was torn to pieces.

It was late. Rachel sat and cried, knowing that she and Zelik were guilty of everything. Zelik lifted her.

“Come, Rachel. Let’s go home.”

They entered the boat. Heavy clouds suddenly rose from the Vistula, stood up like walls and all became complete darkness. A bolt of lightning lit up the whole river. Rachel became confused. She saw nothing in the blinding light, forgot that she was in a boat, and jumped up. A thunder rolled, as if rocky hills were being sundered. A flood came down from heaven.

Rachel was no longer in the boat. Zelik threw off his coat, and searched for her, diving into the water. But she was not to be seen.

The Vistula stormed.

Black waves, like angry animals with foaming mouths stood up high and threatening, roared, and threw themselves at Zelik. And lightnings like fiery ribbons, blinded his eyes on all sides. The boat was already far from him. It drifted down the river. A wave covered Zelik, and he felt that he was growing lighter. He ceased to struggle, and saw a palace with green lights closing towards him. Wanda, surrounded by whitish lightning, hung in the air above him. She called him to her, showed him Rachel, sent lightning to him, and the flashes like long tongues became thinner and thinner. The lightnings tickled him, kissed him, burned him, and his mother stood over him, squeezed lemons into sugar, and put it into his mouth. And suddenly Wanda spread out her watery tresses. They became longer, enfolded him, and water poured on him from a thousand pipes, extinguishing the lightning flashes. He felt so well, so well. And he swam on.

--Translated by Jacob Robbins.

A TALE OF A HUNGRY MAN

DAVID PINSKI

Itsye had for two days in succession had nothing in his mouth; in other words, he had been hungering. But on the third day, for three brass buttons he wheedled the lunch out of a little Hebrew school pupil that studied in the school of his yard--two little buttered cakes--and swallowed them eagerly. Then he became angry. The cakes were a mere morsel to him, but now he had at least a little strength with which to feel anger, and was seized with an impulse to accomplish evil. His fingers itched with the desire. First of all he launched a wicked kick in the direction of Zhutshke, the little dog which the landlady of his house held dearer than her own children. Zhutshke ran off yelping with pain, but this was not enough for Itsye. He tore up a stone that had been frozen to the earth and with all his strength sent it flying after the dog. It did not strike the animal, however, but landed on the door of Simkin the lawyer’s house. It struck with a resounding blow, and Itsye felt satisfied, for he wouldn’t have cared had the stone struck Simkin or Simkin’s wife on the head.

But with all this his hunger was not appeased in the slightest, nor was his seething heart calmed in the smallest degree. He waxed still angrier, for he felt that these were mere trifles, that he had accomplished nothing with them. He walked through the gate, glanced up and down the street, and felt that he was an enemy to every passer-by, and especially to every one that rode. He cursed them with bitter oaths and would gladly, with his own hands, have executed all tortures upon them.

Another little pupil approached the gate; he was wrapped in a broad scarf and wore the large shoes of a grown-up person. He held his hands inside the scarf, and whether because he was indifferent or because it was too cold, did not remove them to wipe his nose, from which mucus leaked down to his mouth.

Out of his pocket peeped a crust of bread. Itsye was seized with a longing for it, but the appearance of the poor child restrained him. He sought, however, to convince himself that he was incensed against the child, even as he was against the whole world, and that he ought to give him a hard kick, as he had just done to Zhutshke. He seized the child by the nose, then struck him on the cap and scowled, “Slob, it’s running into your mouth!” The child was frightened, brought his elbow up to his nose and ran off. But soon he turned back, looked at his unexpected enemy and began to cry, “Wicked Itsye! Itsye the bad man!” And he disappeared through the gate. Itsye did not even deign to look at him.