Satan in Goray

frequent trimming. Reb Itche Mates was in high spirits, his face flushed, eyes bright. Alluding often to the mystery of holy sexual union, he expounded new cabalistic combinations and permutations of holy letters, while doling out portions of brandy and spiced wine. So elated did he become that he told the women to dance, to amuse the bride-to-be. At this Chinkele the Pious stood up and ordered the table pushed aside. A Bohemian, she followed that coun-try's customs. The young women mocked her and guffawed, but Chinkele did not seem to hear them. Extending her thin arms in their wide, gathered sleeves, she put her small head to one side, circled about and sang in Old Yiddish: Protect, Lord God, this bride and groom; May we see the Messiah soon.
    The Holy Presence, Lord God, wed As these two seek the marriage bed.
    Ecstatic, Chinkele the Pious wanted them to dance in a circle, but the women were bashful and, crowding around the threshold, they pushed one another forward. Chinkele tried to dance with the bride, but because of Rechele's lameness had to desist. Then, wiping his wet forehead with his sleeve, Itche Mates arose and approached Chinkele. He drew his handkerchief from his breast pocket, held one corner of it, and said to Chinkele, speaking out of the side of his mouth so as not to address her directly: "Take a corner! It is pleasing to the blessed God for us to dance before Him."
    Reb Itche Mates pulled up the tails of his kaftan, exposing his white linen trousers and the fringes of his vest, and, covering his eyes with his left hand, he began to scrape his feet. Like a bride at the bridal dance, Chinkele lifted the train of her ruffled satin wedding dress and hopped back and forth in her pointed shoes. The sparkling beads on her bonnet jangled, her hollow cheeks were flushed red, and shining tears dripped from her eyelids. At first everyone looked on in amazement. Some even doubted whether this was not sinful levity. But soon they were silenced, sensing that this dance was not a simple one: great things were transpiring. So profound did the silence become that candle flames could be heard sputtering. Men crowded close together, staring with moist wide-open eyes. A tall, starved-looking young cabalist, with a prominent Adam's apple, swayed violently as though in prayer and, wringing his fingers until the knuckles cracked, he grimaced and squinted. Reb Mordecai Joseph stood in a corner leaning on his crutch. His tousled beard burned, his eyeballs flickered green, torrents of sweat poured down his face, and his whole body jerked spasmodically. For hours on end the two danced without wearying. Their souls seemed to be reaching for the higher spheres. Rechele meanwhile leaned against the edge of a bed, hands covering her face as though she were secretly crying. Suddenly, dragging her lame leg, as though to step forward, she pulled herself up and fell to laughing so violently and so loudly that everyone was startled. Before anyone could reach her, she had fallen and she lay choking with sobs. Her eyes glazed, her arms and legs contorted, foam ran from her twisted mouth. She shuddered, twisted, and a vapor rose from her as from a dying ember.

    Reb Itche Mates noticed nothing: the kerchief still in his hand he danced on, his feet stumbled over each other like a drunken man's. His face glowed with mystic enthusiasm, his silk coat was wringing wet; beads of sweat ran down his beard and glided over his open chest. His sash had fallen off, one of his kaftan tails trailed on the drenched floor, his head was turned up and tilted, as though he constantly stared at something beyond the ceiling.
    Unable to restrain himself any longer, Reb Mordecai Joseph groaned, pounded the floor with his crutch, and suddenly began to hop about, sobbing and yammering: "Dance, men! Let's not delay! The divine company await us!"

    13

    "The Others" Arrive It was after midnight. In the bright night that lay over Goray a wind blew, a strong wind that swept away the dry snow and bore it off to pile up in mounds. The frozen earth was bared; trees shook off their winter white; branches broke; moss suddenly appeared on the housetops. In the very middle of the winter the roofs faced the world, with all their rotten shingles and patches. Crows awoke and cawed hoarsely, as at some unexpected sorrow. Snowflakes whirled through the air like wild geese. Between dark, plowed clouds, full of pits and holes, a faceless moon rushed through the sky. One might