The bailiff burst into a horse-laugh and slapped his knees violently. The priest’s face bore a look of despair.
“Can it be that you believe such foolishness?” he said.
“What do we know? We are only common people. All we do know is that whatever happens it is our skin that is peeled off. If we can’t get the paper we’ll do our duty without it.”
“That’s it, without it!” the others chimed in in excited chorus.
Further parleying made it clear that many of them had no inclination to do any personal harm to the Jews or to their property. They were on friendly terms with their Jewish neighbours, and all they wanted was to get rid of a disagreeable duty. The rest, about half of the entire crowd, had had their heads turned with stories of lakes of vodka and fabulous piles of loot, but even these proved susceptible to argument.
“Here,” Yossl shouted at the top of his voice and with great fervour. “I have a scheme, and what will you lose by it if you hear me out? If you don’t like it, I’ll take it back and it won’t cost you a cent.” The intensity of his manner took them by storm. He was allowed to finish. “My scheme amounts to this: The Jews will sign a paper taking upon themselves all responsibility for your failure to smash their shops and houses, so that if the authorities call you to account for violating the imperial ukase, we will answer and you will come out clear.”
First there was perplexed stillness, then a murmur of distrust, and finally a tumult of rejection.
“Crafty Jew! There must be some trick in it!” they yelled sneeringly.
The priest was wiping the perspiration from his forehead. Finally he shouted huskily:
“Very well, I’ll sign such a paper.”