'My friends,' said David quietly. 'A plot to destroy you has already been hatched; the question is, are you going to be destroyed like rats or like men?'
'Pooh!' said the horse-dealer. 'This is not the first time we have been threatened, if not with death, at least with extra taxes; but we have always sent Shtadlonim (ambassadors). We will make a collection, and the president of the Kahal shall go at once to the Governor, and present it to him'—here Mendel winked—'to enable him to take measures against the pogrom.'
'The Governor is in the plot,' said David.
'He can be bought out,' said the timber-merchant.
'Pogroms are more profitable than presents,' rejoined David drily. 'Let us rather prepare bombs.' A fresh shudder traversed the beds and the chairs, and agitated the window-curtain.
'Bombs! Presents!' burst forth the old Rabbi. 'These are godless instruments. We are in the hands of the Holy One—blessed be He! The Shomer (Guardian) of Israel neither slumbereth nor sleepeth.'
'Neither does the Shochet (slaughterer) of Israel,' said David savagely.
'Hush! Epicurean!' came from every quarter at this grim jest; for the Shomer and the Shochet are the official twain of ritual butchery.
The landlord, seeing how the tide was turning, added, 'Brazen Marshallik (buffoon)!'
'I will appoint a day of fasting and prayer,' concluded the Rabbi solemnly.