412 RAISIN"
Another month went by, and the cantor had not got the better of his fear. Life had become distasteful to him. If he had known for certain that his voice was gone, he would perhaps have been calmer. Ver- f alien ! No one can live forever (losing his voice and dying was one and the same to him), but the uncer- tainty, the tossing oneself between yes and no, the Oloni ha-Tohu of it all, embittered the cantor's existence.
At last, one fine day, the cantor resolved to get at the truth: he could bear it no longer.
It was evening, the wife had gone to the market for meat, and the choir had gone home, only the eldest singer, Yb'ssel "bass," remained with the cantor.
The cantor looked at him, opened his mouth and shut it again; it was difficult for him to say what he wanted to say.
At last he broke out with :
"Yossel !"
"What is it, cantor?"
"Tell me, are you an honest man?"
Yossel "bass" stared at the cantor, and asked :
"What are you asking me to-day, cantor?"
"Brother Yossel," the cantor said, all but weeping. "Brother Yossel !"
That was all he could say.
"Cantor, what is wrong with you ?"
"Brother Yossel, be an honest man, and tell me the truth, the truth !"
"I don't understand! What is the matter with you, cantor ?"
"Tell me the truth: Do you notice any change in me?"
