"You are dear, golden children.... Jewish children.... Saints.... I love you, and you love me.... Oh yes, you l-love me?"
"Like a pain in the eyes," replied Elya.
"Well, I know you l-love me," went on the teacher.
"May the Lord love you as we do," said Elya.
We were frightened, and whispered to Elya:
"The Lord be with you!"
"Fools!" he said with a laugh. "What are you afraid of? Don't you see he is drunk?"
"What?" queried the teacher, one of whose eyes was already closed. "What are you saying? Saints? Of course.... The guardian of Israel. Hal! Hal! Hal! Rrrssss!"
And our teacher fell fast asleep. The snores burst from his nose like the blasts from a ram's horn, sounding far into the forest. We sat around him, and our hearts grew heavy.
Is this our teacher? Is this he whose glances we fear? Is this Mazeppa?