Sometimes when I looked at him, I seemed to be falling into silent space, into a bottomless pit full of twilight.
"Every one is married but you, Yaakov. Why have n't you ever married?"'
"Why? I have always been a favorite with the women, thank God, but it's like this. When one is married, one has to live in one place, settle down on the land. My land is very poor, a very small piece, and my uncle has taken even that from me. When my young brother came back from being a soldier, he fell out with our uncle, and was brought before the court for punching his head. There was blood shed over the matter, in fact. And for that they sent him to prison for a year and a half. When you come out of prison, son, there is only one road for you; and that leads back to prison again. His wife was such a pleasant young woman—but what is the use of talking about it? When one is married, one ought to be master of one's own stable. But a soldier is not even master of his own life."
"Do you say your prayers?"
"You fun—n—y—y fellow, of course I do!"
"But how?"
"All kinds of ways."
"What prayers do you say?"
"I know the night prayers. I say quite simply, my brother: 'Lord Jesus, while I live, have mercy on me, and when I am dead give me rest. Save me, Lord, from sickness——' and one or two other things I say."
"What things?"