One day, shortly before the New Year, Leibel overheard the following conversation between his father and his mother.
He: "Though the world turn upside down, I must have a citron this year!"
She: "The world will not turn upside down, and you will have no citron."
He: "That's what you say. But supposing I have already been promised something towards a citron?"
She: "It will have to be written into the books of Jests. In the month called after the town of Kreminitz a miracle happened—a bear died in the forest. But what then? If I do not believe it, I shall not be a great heretic either."
He: "You may believe or not. I tell you that this Feast of Tabernacles, we shall have a citron of our own."
She: "Amen! May it be so! From your mouth into God's ears!"
"Amen, amen," repeated Leibel in his heart. And he pictured to himself his father coming into the synagogue, like a respectable householder, with his own citron and his own palm-branch. And though Moshe-Yankel is only a clerk, still when the men walk around the Ark with their palms and their citrons, he will follow them with his palm and citron. And Leibel's heart was full of joy. When he came to "Cheder," he at once told every one that this year his father would have his own palm and citron. But no one believed him.
"What do you say to his father?" asked the young scamps of one another. "Such a man—such a beggar amongst beggars desires to have a citron of his own. He must imagine it is a lemon, or a 'groschen' apple."
That was what the young scamps said. And they gave Leibel a few good smacks and thumps, and punches and digs and pushes. And Leibel began to believe that his father was a beggar amongst beggars. And a beggar must have no desires. But how great was his surprise when he came home and found "Reb" Henzel sitting at the table, in his Napoleonic cap, facing his father. In front of them stood a box full of citrons, the beautiful perfume of which reached the furthest corners of the house.