Satan in Goray

come from beneath the earth, and it appeared to Rechele that it was the chanting of Kol Nidre. But then it dawned on her that it was the dead who were chanting, and she knew that whosoever hears the Kol Nidre of the dead would not live out the year.
    She fell asleep and in her dreams Granny came to her--her clothes in tatters, disheveled and haggard. The kerchief about her head was soaked with blood. "Rechele! Rechele!" she screamed and rubbed the girl's face with a straw whisk.
    Rechele's whole body shuddered. She awoke, drenched with sweat. There was a ringing in her ear, and she felt a sharp stab in her breast. She tried to cry but could not. Gradually, the terror subsided. She heard footsteps in the house, fragmentary phrases. The pots on the oven and on the benches moved and were suspended in air. The candle box turned around and did a jig. There was a scarlet glow on the walls. Everything seethed, burst, crackled, as though the whole house were aflame.... Late that night, when Uncle came home, he found Rechele lying with her knees pulled to her chest, her eyes glazed and her teeth clenched. Reb Zeydel Ber screamed and people came running. They forced open the girl's mouth and poured sour wine down her throat. A woman skilled in such things scratched Rechele's face with her nails and tore from her head patches of hair. At length Rechele began to groan, but from that evening on she was never the same.
    In the beginning Rechele could not speak at all. Later she regained her speech, but she suffered from all sorts of illnesses. Reb Zeydel Ber wished to marry Rechele because she was beautiful and of good family, and he looked after her as though she were his own daughter. He hired a servant maid to care for her, and he had recourse to various cures and charms. A woman was brought in to drive the evil spirit away by incantation; another washed her body with urine; still another applied leeches. Rechele lay inert on her bed. So that she might forget her pain, Reb Zeydel Ber brought her books and even went so far as to instruct her in the Torah. Sometimes the Polish physician who bled Rechele read with her from a Latin book. Eventually Rechele improved and could once more stand, but her left leg continued paralyzed, and she walked with a limp. Then Reb Zeydel Ber died, and Rechele returned to her father, Reb Eleazar Babad, who in the meantime had lost both wife and son.
    Thenceforth Rechele was one apart. She was beset by mysterious ills. Some said she suffered from the falling sickness, others that she was in the power of demons. In Goray Reb Eleazar left her completely on her own, rarely returning from his round of the villages to see her. When people spoke to him about his poor orphan daughter, he would hang his head and answer in confusion: "Well, let it be...! There is no wisdom nor understanding nor counsel against the Lord!"

    Reb Itche Mates, the Packman

    A packman came to Goray with a full sack of holy scripts and fringed vests, phylacteries and skull caps for pregnant women and oval bone amulets for children, mezuzahs and prayer sashes. Packmen are notoriously short-tempered and suffer no one to touch their merchandise who is disinclined to purchase. Gingerly, one at a time, the young men approached the packman, stared curiously at the store of goods which he spread out on the table, ran their fingers along the books, and turned the leaves with silent caution, so as not to arouse his wrath. But apparently this was a courteous packman. Putting his hands up his sleeves, he allowed the boys to riffle through the books as much as they pleased. A packman comes from the great world, and usually brings with him all sorts of news. People sidled over to him and asked: "What do they call you, stranger?"
    "Itche Mates."
    "Well, Reb Itche Mates, what's happening in the world?"
    "Praised be God."
    "Is there talk of help for the Jews?"
    "Certainly, everywhere, blessed be God."
    "Perhaps you have letters with you and tracts, Reb Itche Mates?"
    Reb Itche Mates said nothing, as though he hadn't heard, and they understood at once that these were matters one did not discuss openly. So, murmuring under their breath, they said, "Are you staying here awhile, Reb Itche Mates?"
    He was a short man, with a round, straw-colored beard, and appeared to be about forty years old. His dilapidated hat, from which large patches of fur were missing, was pulled down over his damp, rheumy eyes; his thin nose was red with catarrh. He was