“Has she? There may be a riot in Miroslav at any time. I wonder how Zorki is getting along. But then my father will be able to take care of himself,—and of Miriam, too,” he added, lukewarmly. The only thing of which he could have spoken with enthusiasm in these days was his program.
Pavel came away hankering for more conversation about his fiancée and about the riots. Instead of seeking rest and safety, as he had promised Clara to do, he coveted a new sort of excitement and danger. He felt that there was something wrong about that crusade, and he had a sportsmanlike craving to see it for himself. Lacking the courage to criticise his party, he accused himself of allowing his revolutionary convictions to be affected by the interests of his love; yet he continued to pray in his heart that the Jews of Miroslav, at least, might be spared. He read all he found in the newspapers about the atrocities, and on taking up a paper he would tremble lest it should contain news of a riot in his birthplace.
When he read of the Miroslav panic he went there at once.
“If it’s really a riot she’ll never come back to me,” he brooded, wretchedly.
The rumours of an impending catastrophe were assuming definite outline in Miroslav. A date was mentioned and tall Great-Russians in red shirts—specialists at the business—were said to have been seen about town. Great-Russia is and has always been strictly without the pale of Jewish settlement, it being one of the characteristic features of the anti-Semitic riots of the period that their leaders were imported from the rabble in those districts in which very few people had an idea what a Jew looked like.
The Jews of Miroslav sent a snug bribe to Pavel’s uncle, but their agent came back with the money. The governor had commissioned him to assure them that everything would be done to make an outbreak impossible, but “gratitude” he would not accept. The Jews took alarm. “If he doesn’t eat honey,” they said, in the phrase of a current proverb, “then it looks bad indeed.” When a deputation of representative men called on him he lost his temper.
“You Jews are too intense, that’s what’s the trouble with you,” he said, blinking his eyes. “I have let you know twice that there is no cause for alarm, yet it seems that it is not enough for you.” When he had softened down he talked quite at length, although in a haughty tone of authority and immeasurable aloofness, of the steps he had taken. The main point was that the Jews should not tempt people to lawlessness by betraying anxiety. He delivered quite a lecture on the point. The deputation came away greatly encouraged. They knew of the extensive business relations which the managers of his estates had with Jewish merchants, and they argued, among themselves, that a riot, involving as it usually did the wholesale destruction of Jewish property and a general demoralisation of business, could not but entail serious financial losses upon himself. This was in keeping with declarations made by the boards of trade at Moscow, Warsaw and Kharkoff, the three chief centres of Russian commerce, regarding the anti-Jewish crusade. These bodies had pointed out the importance of the Jews of the south as the prime movers of local industry, as almost the exclusive connecting link between the south of Russia and the world markets of Germany and England; accordingly, they had protested against the anti-Semitic campaign as a source of ruin to the economic interests of the whole empire. All this the members of the deputation were aware of, so they saw no reason to doubt the sincerity of the governor’s pledges. His advice not to put the thought of a riot in the popular mind by a demonstration of timidity produced a strong impression.
The upshot was that the Jews of Miroslav were afraid to be afraid. A singular mood took hold of them. Everybody made an effort to act upon the presumption that Miroslav was immune, that it was in an exceptional position, and at the same time everyone read suspense and mortal fear in the eyes of everyone else. It was like walking in one’s stocking feet with a spectacular effect of making a noise. Jewish women still avoided the proximity of Christian men, and a Jewish face that did not look Jewish was still eyed enviously as a shield against violence. The only tangible manifestation of the spirit advocated by the governor was a slight lengthening of business hours. Since the beginning of the panic Jewish tradesmen had been closing their shops before it was quite dark—three or four hours earlier than usual. Now they compromised on keeping them open until the street lamps were lit. Nevertheless those of them who depended on Christian trade continued to treat their customers with a gentleness and a fawning attention that had nothing to do with the ordinary blandishments of the counter. Inveterate rogues among Jewish tradesmen became honest men. On the other hand a most respectable Gentile often yielded to temptation that amounted to downright robbery, while the license of “shady Christian characters” was asserting itself more portentously every day.