"I want to know about Chanukah, too!" she exclaims softly.
"Well, well," says the young house-master to me, "let us hear your version of Chanukah by all means!"
"It happened," I begin, "in the days when the Greeks oppressed us in the land of Israel. The Greeks—" But the old man interrupts me with a sour look:
"In the Benedictions it says: 'The wicked Kingdom of Javan.'"
"It comes to the same thing," observes his son, "what we call Javan, they call Greeks."
"The Greeks," I resume, "oppressed us terribly! It was our darkest hour. As a nation, we were threatened with extinction. After a few ill-starred risings, the life seemed to be crushed out of us, the last gleam of hope had faded. Although in our own country, we were trodden under foot like worms."
The young house-master has long ceased to pay me any attention. His ear is turned to the door; he is intent on listening for the arrival of a guest.
But the old house-master fixes me with his eye, and, when I have a second time used the word "oppressed," he can no longer contain himself:
"A man should be explicit! 'Oppressed'—what does that convey to me? They forced us to break the Sabbath; they forbade us to keep our festivals, to study the Law, even to practice circumcision."
"You play 'Preference'?" inquires the younger gentleman, suddenly, "or perhaps even poker?"