“How are you, Yossl? Any news of Feivish?”
“He’s in Paris now,” Yossl answered with a gesture of disrelish and speaking aloud, so that the entire crowd might hear him. He hated to tell the holy man a lie, yet he did so readily, the occasion being his best opportunity for giving the story wide circulation.
“In Paris!”
“Yes, he has been there since the beginning of summer. I have letters from him.”
“Letters from Feivish!”
“He wanted to show off I suppose. Wanted his father to see he’s in Paris. On my part he may go to perdition.”
“What is he doing there? Studying medicine in French?”
“That’s what he says in his letter. Yes, he has quite broken with Judaism, rabbi, quite a Gentile. All that is required to make the transformation complete is that he should extort bribes from Jews for allowing them to breathe. One Jew he prevents from breathing already”—pointing at himself.
The rabbi swayed his head sympathetically.
“What a misfortune! What a misfortune! Men like him could not be had for the picking.”