Lapidus is like the ocean; he never rests a minute."
"The ocean spews out seashells--he spits out garbage," the younger man stated.
"Quiet, Broide! You're not so innocent yourself. Here, I want to acquaint you with this young man--from the provinces. Abram brought him. He's a genius, Abram says."
The argument broke off and the disputants stared at Asa Heshel. Lapidus was the first to break the silence.
5
"Where are you from?" Lapidus asked, putting out his hand. "I could swear you come from somewhere in the province of Lublin."
"Yes," Asa Heshel said. "From Tereshpol Minor."
"I thought so. There are still Jews in those towns. Real Jews, who aren't ashamed of the Jewish nose--and the Jewish Torah. Here, my friend, a new generation has arisen that has only one thing in mind--humanity! They weep bitter tears over every Ivan, every Slav. There's only one nation they've got no use for--their own flesh and blood!"
"Hey, Lapidus, back to your propaganda?" Broide exclaimed, in the vibrant voice of the trained orator. "That's really swinish!"
"What do you mean, swinish! I just want to let him know what kind of a den he's fallen into. Look at them all"--he turned to Asa Heshel. "A flock of humanitarians, all of them. All they worry about is the social revolution and the Russian peasants. There's not a single one of them that cares so much"--Lapidus put his thumb to the tip of his little finger to illustrate how small was their regard--"about what happens to the Jews!"
"As true as I live, Lapidus," Gina interrupted, "now you're going too far! If you want to become a nationalist, or even to -61-go back to the
prayerbouse of your young days, then for God's sake do it! What's all the carrying-on for? A person would think the place is a madhouse."
"It is! I was once in a village where they assemble them be-fore sending them away to Siberia--what was the name?--Alexan-drovka--in a peasant's hut, and I saw a bunch of Jews, with scrawny beards, black eyes--just like mine. At first I thought it was a minyan for prayers. But when I heard them babbling in Russian and spouting about the revolution--the S.R.'s, the S.D.'s, Plekhanov, Bogdanov, bombs, assassinations--I started to howl. I laughed until I became hysterical."
"You're not over it yet."
"I'm not nearly so hysterical as you are, Broide. You've not gone through what I've gone through. While I was rotting in prison, you played around with your father's servant girls."
"All right, so you've gone through a lot of experiences. What good has it done you? All it's done is to make you a reactionary."
"And I tell you, Broide, you're more reactionary than I am. It's people like you who'll ruin the world."
"Not the world, Lapidus. Only capitalism and chauvinism, the things that people like you hold onto for dear life."
"I'm no chauvinist. I don't lust for anyone's territory. All I want is a corner of the world for our own."
"That's fine. I'm glad you're not out to do some territory-grabbing.
But just wait. The appetite, they say, grows with eating. Ha-ha-ha!"
"Ha-ha-ha!" Abram echoed him ironically. "It's a great joke, Broide, isn't it? In what commandment is it written down that we're supposed to spill our blood for every pig of a ruler while we stay homeless and in exile? Why should we do it? Because that's the way Karl Kautsky decided it's got to be?"
"It's got nothing to do with Kautsky, my dear Shapiro. If you can get a charter from the Turk it's all right with me. And if the Sultan decides not to give it to you, I won't rend my garments either, I assure you."
"But for a new Constitution you'd rend not only your garments but your own mother."
"The Constitution is something of world importance, and your charter is nothing but an idle fantasy for Zionist orators."
"It's starting all over again," Gina cried out. "They never get -62-tired! Shouts
and insults! Smoke and babble! Come, Abram; come --what's your name?--Asa Heshell I'll show you the girl's room. The argument
"The ocean spews out seashells--he spits out garbage," the younger man stated.
"Quiet, Broide! You're not so innocent yourself. Here, I want to acquaint you with this young man--from the provinces. Abram brought him. He's a genius, Abram says."
The argument broke off and the disputants stared at Asa Heshel. Lapidus was the first to break the silence.
5
"Where are you from?" Lapidus asked, putting out his hand. "I could swear you come from somewhere in the province of Lublin."
"Yes," Asa Heshel said. "From Tereshpol Minor."
"I thought so. There are still Jews in those towns. Real Jews, who aren't ashamed of the Jewish nose--and the Jewish Torah. Here, my friend, a new generation has arisen that has only one thing in mind--humanity! They weep bitter tears over every Ivan, every Slav. There's only one nation they've got no use for--their own flesh and blood!"
"Hey, Lapidus, back to your propaganda?" Broide exclaimed, in the vibrant voice of the trained orator. "That's really swinish!"
"What do you mean, swinish! I just want to let him know what kind of a den he's fallen into. Look at them all"--he turned to Asa Heshel. "A flock of humanitarians, all of them. All they worry about is the social revolution and the Russian peasants. There's not a single one of them that cares so much"--Lapidus put his thumb to the tip of his little finger to illustrate how small was their regard--"about what happens to the Jews!"
"As true as I live, Lapidus," Gina interrupted, "now you're going too far! If you want to become a nationalist, or even to -61-go back to the
prayerbouse of your young days, then for God's sake do it! What's all the carrying-on for? A person would think the place is a madhouse."
"It is! I was once in a village where they assemble them be-fore sending them away to Siberia--what was the name?--Alexan-drovka--in a peasant's hut, and I saw a bunch of Jews, with scrawny beards, black eyes--just like mine. At first I thought it was a minyan for prayers. But when I heard them babbling in Russian and spouting about the revolution--the S.R.'s, the S.D.'s, Plekhanov, Bogdanov, bombs, assassinations--I started to howl. I laughed until I became hysterical."
"You're not over it yet."
"I'm not nearly so hysterical as you are, Broide. You've not gone through what I've gone through. While I was rotting in prison, you played around with your father's servant girls."
"All right, so you've gone through a lot of experiences. What good has it done you? All it's done is to make you a reactionary."
"And I tell you, Broide, you're more reactionary than I am. It's people like you who'll ruin the world."
"Not the world, Lapidus. Only capitalism and chauvinism, the things that people like you hold onto for dear life."
"I'm no chauvinist. I don't lust for anyone's territory. All I want is a corner of the world for our own."
"That's fine. I'm glad you're not out to do some territory-grabbing.
But just wait. The appetite, they say, grows with eating. Ha-ha-ha!"
"Ha-ha-ha!" Abram echoed him ironically. "It's a great joke, Broide, isn't it? In what commandment is it written down that we're supposed to spill our blood for every pig of a ruler while we stay homeless and in exile? Why should we do it? Because that's the way Karl Kautsky decided it's got to be?"
"It's got nothing to do with Kautsky, my dear Shapiro. If you can get a charter from the Turk it's all right with me. And if the Sultan decides not to give it to you, I won't rend my garments either, I assure you."
"But for a new Constitution you'd rend not only your garments but your own mother."
"The Constitution is something of world importance, and your charter is nothing but an idle fantasy for Zionist orators."
"It's starting all over again," Gina cried out. "They never get -62-tired! Shouts
and insults! Smoke and babble! Come, Abram; come --what's your name?--Asa Heshell I'll show you the girl's room. The argument
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