hat down again and said, “Well, well, doubtless you are in the right. And what then has he to be?”
“A scavenger, Poldik dear, a scavenger responded Malka, almost enthusiastically.” “There! now you know why I cannot give him to you.”
“A scavenger!” Poldik was again taken aback, perhaps this time more violently than before. “Perhaps you know of someone,” continued Malka, “who would adopt him and, of course, I will work for both of us in order to pay for his apprenticeship.”
She would work for both and could not even work for one, said Poldik to himself with a sigh.
And here a gigantic conception emerged in him. Ay, it is possible that even a giant would have felt himself weak beneath its weight.
Poldik’s head went round at the notion, and he felt as though some tremendous weight had exhausted his feet and hands, and even his tongue and words. He knew what he wished to say, but at that moment it seemed an impossible thing to say it. To-day, at least, it was too much for him; step by step he had gone higher, but now at the same time he felt that if he attempted another round of the ladder, he would stagger and perhaps fall.
He took the final step, staggered, but did not fall.
“I know of such an one,” said he. “I will make a scavenger of him for you.”
When Poldik expressed himself in these words he felt as though he had expressed his consent to a crime,
