FISHEL THE TEACHEE 141
blended into one, and a strange song sounded over the Bug, a kind of duet, which had never been heard there before.
"The black year knows why he is so afraid of death, that Jew," so wondered Prokop Baranyuk, "a poor tattered little Jew like him, a creature I would not give this old boat for, and so afraid of death !"
The shore reached, Prokop gave Fishel a shove in the side with his boot, and Fishel started. The Gentile burst out laughing, but Fishel did not hear, Fishel went on reciting the Confession, saying Kaddish for his own soul, and mentally contemplating the graves of Israel !
"Get up, you silly Rebbe! We're there in Chasch- tschevate !"
Slowly, slowly, Fishel raised his head, and gazed around him with red and swollen eyes.
"Chasch-tsche-va-te ? ? ? "
"Chaschtschevate ! Give me the ruble, Rebbe !"
Fishel crawls out of the boat, and, finding himself really at home, does not know what to do for joy. Shall he run into the town? Shall he go dancing? Shall he first thank and praise God who has brought him safe out of such great peril ? He pays the Gentile his fare, takes up his bundle under his arm and is about to run home, the quicker the better, but he pauses a moment first, and turns to Prokop the ferry- man:
"Listen, Prokop, dear heart, to-morrow, please God, you'll come and drink a glass of brandy, and taste festival fish at Fishel the teacher's, for Heaven's sake !" 10
