Satan in Goray

hung over his right eye, lifted it the better to see, cast a glance at the darkened, peeling walls of the prayer house and its empty book chests, and loudly declared: "Enough!... It is the will of our blessed God that we begin anew."
    Rabbi Benish Ashkenazi had inherited his office in Goray from generations of rabbis. He was an author of commentaries and responsa, a member of the court of the Council of the Four Lands, and was reckoned among the most brilliant men of the day. In former times many deserted wives had made the long trip to out-of-the-way Goray to receive permission from Rabbi Benish to remarry--for with all his learning and brilliance, Rabbi Benish was one of those who construed the Law liberally. Often emissaries had come to Goray from famous communities in an attempt to persuade him to accept coveted rabbinical posts--but all went away disappointed. Rabbi Benish wished to end his days in the place where he had inherited his office. And now he was home again. Miraculously, there had been little damage to his house. The two oaken book chests, once more filled with folios and manuscripts, stood where they had previously, along with the old-fashioned chairs covered in yellow satin, and the copper candelabra hanging down from the ceiling. Sacred volumes and writings were piled an ell deep in the attic. It was even rumored that somewhere in the house a clay man was hidden, a Golem that had once helped the Jews of that town in a time of persecution.
    Reb Eleazar Babad returned to Goray with only one daughter. The older daughter, the married one, had first been raped by the Cossacks and then impaled on a spear. His wife had died in an epidemic; Reb Eleazar's only son had disappeared, and no one knew what had happened to him. Since the first floor of his house had been wrecked, he moved into an attic room. In the old days Reb Eleazar had been famous for his wealth. He had dressed in silk even on weekdays. It had been the custom for a bride to be led to his house, where the wedding band would play in his honor. In the prayer house the cantor would wait for Reb Eleazar before reciting the Eighteen Benedictions, and on the Sabbath his household and the holiday guests dined at a table set with silver. Many a time the lord of Goray drove up to Reb Eleazar's in his carriage to pawn his lady's jewelry for gold ducats.
    But Reb Eleazar was now unrecognizable. The long, narrow body had bent like a candle, the wedge- shaped beard had turned ash-gray, the emaciated face was brick-red. Reb Eleazar's eyes, set close to his bony, peeling nose, now protruded, and seemed always to be looking for something on the ground. He wandered about wearing an old sheepskin hat and nondescript housecoat; a rope girdled his waist, his feet were wrapped in rags, like those of beggars. He never came to the prayer house to pray; he did his own housework, sweeping up, preparing food for himself and his daughter, and even going to the market to fetch a copper's worth of food from the women who sat near their carts. Whenever he was asked how he was getting along and how he had fared during the time he had been away, Reb Eleazar would shiver as though at some dreadful thought, would shrink into himself, look past his questioner's shoulder, and reply, "Why talk about it? What's the use?"
    Some said he was doing penance for his sins. Teme Rachel, the pious woman, added that once late at night she had passed his window and had observed him pacing back and forth and speaking aloud in a sad voice. Others whispered that he was out of his mind, that he did not take his clothes off when he went to sleep, and that he placed a long knife under his pillow nights, like a woman in labor, to keep away the devil.
    His daughter, Rechele, who was seventeen years old, had a lame left foot and seldom showed herself outside, preferring to remain hidden in her room. She was tall, with a greenish complexion, but handsome, with long black hair that hung down to her waist. In the early days after Reb Eleazar's arrival people had tried to arrange a match for her, because it was a pity for so old a girl to sit at home without a man. But Reb Eleazar did not answer the matchmakers, never said either yes or no, and they soon grew tired of useless talk. Besides, Rechele's behavior was strange from the beginning. When it thundered she would scream and hide under the bed. To the young wives and girls who came to call on her she said nothing, driving them away with her