“One,” repeated Yankel, also counting on his fingers.
“Number two. You live by the blood and sweat of the people.”
“Two.”
“Number three. You sell the people vodka.”
“Three.”
“Number four. You dilute it with water.”
“Oh, let number four go! And what is the next?”
“Are four sins so few? Ah, Yankel, Yankel!”
“Oh, I don’t say four are few, I only say that you don’t know your own business. Do you think the miller isn’t a usurer, do you think the miller doesn’t live by the sweat and blood of the people?”
“Come, now, don’t pick at the miller! He’s not that kind of a man—he’s a Christian. A Christian is supposed to have pity not only on his own people but on others, too, even on Jews like you. That’s why it’s so hard for me to catch a Christian.”