A year went by, and perhaps a year and a half. I was beginning to forget the curved knife. It seems I was destined to waste all the years of my childhood because of pocket-knives. A new knife was created—to my misfortune—a brand new knife, a beauty, a splendid one. As I live, it was a fine knife. It had two blades, fine, steel ones, sharp as razors, and a white bone handle, and brass ends, and copper rivets. I tell you, it was a beauty, a real good pocket-knife.
How came to me such a fine knife, that was never meant for such as I? That is a whole story—a sad, but interesting story. Listen to me attentively.
What value in my eyes had the German Jew who lodged with us—the contractor, Herr Hertz Hertzenhertz, when he spoke Yiddish, went about without a cap, had no beard or earlocks, and had his coat-tails cut off? I ask you how I could have helped laughing into his face, when that Jewish-Gentile, or Gentilish-Jew talked to me in Yiddish, but in a curious Yiddish with a lot of A's in it.
"Well, dear boy, which portion of the Law will be read this week?"
"Ha! ha! ha!" I burst out laughing and hid my face in my hands.
"Say, say, my dear child, what portion of the Law will be read this week?"
"Ha! ha! ha! Balak," I burst out with a laugh, and ran away.
But that was only in the beginning, before I knew him. Afterwards, when I knew Herr Hertz Hertzenhertz better (he lived at our house for over a year) I loved him so well that I did not care if he said no prayers, and ate his food without saying the blessings. Nevertheless, I did not understand how he existed, and why the Lord allowed him to remain in the world. Why was he not choked at table? And why did the hair not fall out of his uncovered head? I had heard from my teacher, Mottel, the "Angel of Death," from his own mouth, that this German Jew was only a spirit. That is to say, a Jew was turned into a German; and later on he might turn into a wolf, a cow, a horse, or maybe a duck. A duck?
"Ha! ha! ha! A fine story," thought I. But I was genuinely sorry for the German. Nevertheless, I did not understand why my father, who was a very orthodox Jew, should pay the German Jew so much respect, as also did the other Jews who used to come into our house.
"Peace be unto you, Reb Hertzenhertz! Blessed art thou who comest, Reb Hertz Hertzenhertz!"