He found me in the house of a widow. He came in with the question of the wicked child in the Haggadah: "What business is this of yours?"
"Mòi Pànyiye![70] what are you doing here?"
"How here?" I ask.
"Very likely you think I come from under the stove? That because a person lives in Tishewitz, he isn't civilized, and doesn't know what is doing in the world? You remember: 'I have sojourned with Laban?''[71] I do live here, but when there's a rat about, I soon smell him."
"If you can smell a rat, and know all that is going on, why do you want to ask questions?"
The beadle pricked up his ears, and so did the half-dozen loungers who had followed me step by step.
There was a fierce delight in their faces, and on their foreheads was written the verse: "Let the young men arise"—let us see two Maskilîm having it out between them!
"What is the good of all this joking?" said the Maskil, irritated. "My tongue is not a shoe-sole! And for whose benefit am I to speak? That of the Tishewitz donkeys? Look at the miserable creatures!"
I feel a certain embarrassment. I cannot well take up the defense of Tishewitz, because the Tishewitz worthies in the window and the door-way are smiling quite pleasantly.
"Come, tell me, what does it all mean, taking notes?"