The soldiers took him at his word and began to ransack the house, while Mordecai and Leah, paralyzed with fear, great beads of perspiration starting from their foreheads, sat idly by and watched the work of destruction. Not an article of furniture was left entire in the wild search for treasure, which, according to popular belief, every Jew was supposed to possess. Finding nothing, they bestowed a few resounding curses upon the inmates of the house, and in sheer desperation wended their way to the village inn and sought the solace of Basilivitch's vodka.
Poor Mordecai! Poor Leah! For hours they sat just as the soldiers had left them, great tears streaming down their pale and haggard faces, viewing the destruction of their few earthly possessions, the loss of all they could still call their own. They knew not what course to pursue, whether to remain or to flee. The unexpected blow appeared to have robbed them of their faculties; all power of reflection seemed to have left them, and trembling and groaning they remained where they were, in fearful expectancy of what might follow.
Towards midnight the soldiers returned. The liberal potations in which they had indulged had washed away the last semblance of humanity. Food and money had been the motives of their previous excesses, but on their return, hunger and cupidity had made way for lust. Mordecai's wife became the object of their insults, and in the resistance which she and her husband offered, both were beaten unmercifully. Finally, the soldiers, overpowered by the close quarters and by the fumes of the wretched liquor they had imbibed, dropped off, one by one, into a drunken sleep.
"Let us take what we can, Leah," said the wretched man, after assuring himself that the soldiers were all fast asleep, "and let us flee."
"We dare carry nothing—we dare not even travel, for this is the Sabbath," answered Leah, sadly.
Poor Jews! In the midst of sorrow, as in the midst of joy, the behests of their holy religion are never forgotten.
"Yes, we may travel," replied Mordecai. "It is a matter of more importance than life and death, and the Talmud authorizes the desecration of the Sabbath in time of great danger."
"Then let us go at once," whispered Leah.
Hand in hand they left the miserable hut, the place they had for so many years called home, and wandered out into the world, without a prospect to cheer them on their desolate way.