“You!—Give bread to you!” cried the woman, with a harsh, brutal laugh. “Hebrews are dogs, but this”—and she pointed to the animal at her feet—“this is a Christian dog, and I would rather feed him than you.”
“For my mother’s sake!” implored Mascha. “She’s dying!”
“Bah! If she dies it will be one Jewess the less. Your people are our curse. Go home and die too!”
And the woman spat upon her contemptuously, and turning her back upon the supplicant, continued feeding the dog.
Mascha, crestfallen and dejected, was walking slowly away when she suddenly felt a heavy hand upon her shoulder.
“Now, girl; what do you want here?” inquired a rough, coarse voice.
Glancing up quickly, she recognised the sinister features and shifty feline eyes of Ivan Osnavitsch, the ispravnik.[2]
“I want bread; my mother is starving,” she replied.
“Starving? Like all the other dogs that infest the Ghetto kennels, eh? Well, you’ve no right to beg of Christians. The law of the Mir forbids it, and I ought to take you to prison as a vagabond. If you want food you should go to the Governor. His Excellency has received relief for distribution, and if you call upon him he may probably give you some. Tell him that I sent you.”