And I, along with the rest of the choir, sang out in a variety of voices, "Berrel the thief—Berrel the thief!"
"Sh—sh—sh—a—a—ah!" cried the teacher, banging the table with his open hand. "Hush! Now we will betake ourselves to pronouncing judgment." He spoke in a sing-song voice.
"Ah, well, Berrel thief, come over here, my child. Quicker, a little quicker. Tell me, my boy, what your name is." This also was said in a sing-song.
"Berrel."
"What else?"
"Berrel—Berrel the thief."
"That's right, my dear child. Now you are a good boy. May your strength increase, and may you grow stronger in every limb!" (Still in the same sing-song.) "Take off your clothes. That's right. But can't you do it quicker? I beg of you, be quick about it. That's right, little Berrel, my child."
Berrel stood before us as naked as when he was born. Not a drop of blood showed in his body. He did not move a limb. His eyes were lowered. He was as dead as a corpse.
The teacher called out one of the older scholars, still speaking in the same sing-song voice:
"Well, now, Hirschalle, come out from behind the table, over here to me. Quicker. Just so. And now tell us the story from beginning to end—how our Berrel became a thief. Listen, boys, pay attention."