Satan in Goray

backward. His head spun and he choked. Suddenly the storm seized him, bore him aloft for a short distance, as on wings, and then cast him down with such violence that in the turmoil he could hear his bones shatter. With the last vestige of his conscious-ness he was still able to think: "The End."
    The whole incident must have taken a few seconds. Grunam arrived in haste with the fur hat, but he could no longer find the rabbi. He was certain that the rabbi had turned back to the house and began to rap on the shutters, calling, but there was no answer. Then, sensing evil, Grunam fell to shouting at the top of his lungs: "Help, the rabbi! He-lp!"
    The first to respond was the rabbi's wife; then his daughters-in-law and grandchildren sprang from sleep. Running outdoors half naked, they roused the town with their frightened cries. At first no one could understand what had happened. Terror had de-prived Grunam of speech; instead, he gestured and blinked like a mute. Doors opened on every side. Many of the townspeople feared that marauders had descended on the town, others thought there was a fire. A full half hour passed before Rabbi Benish was found half covered with snow near a chestnut tree some twenty paces from his home. The rabbi's wife fainted when she saw what had happened, and all the women began to lament at once. But Rabbi Benish was not dead. Several men lifted the groaning rabbi and bore him into the study. His face was blue and frozen, his right arm broken or dislocated. One eye was shut, as though pasted together. A vapor rose from his snow-covered beard, and his body shook feverishly. People asked him questions, shouting into his ears, but he did not answer. With difficulty his garments were removed and he was put to bed. The rabbi's lips grew white with the pain, and Ozer's wife moistened them with vinegar. Someone else rubbed the rabbi's temples and blew on his face, to revive him. To brighten the room, one of those who had come running up lighted the braided candle re-served for the Sabbath night ceremony; the candle flickered with a smoky fire.
    What had happened soon became known to those at the betrothal feast. Most of the assembled immediately ran off, the women stealing out individually. The candles had already gone out. Only a few damp pine branches low under the tripod spread a flickering glow. The floor was wet, the benches and tables were pushed back and overturned, the ceiling dripped and the smell of brandy and charred embers, as after a fire, hung in the air. Rechele had still not come to, and lay on the bed, damp, her hair wild and her teeth clenched. Chinkele the Pious kept trying to revive her, unbuttoning Rechele's blouse, unclasping hooks, untying laces, pouring juice on her lips and at the same time murmuring affectionately and pleading with her. Reb Itche Mates, his face turned to the wall, stood in a corner, muttering.... Reb Mordecai Joseph, who had drunk half a jug full of aqua vitae, jogged Itche Mates' elbow, trying to get him to go home, and, rasping, crowed with pleasure at his foe Benish's downfall.
    "Come, Reb Itche Mates. The demons have him now--may his name perish!"

    14

    The Rabbi Forsakes His Congregation

    In the study, where Rabbi Benish's canopy bed had been placed, the oven had been stoked so high that the plaster. was cracking and the heat scorched. The outside door had been locked to keep out the cold, and visitors who started coming early in the morning would pass through several rooms before entering the one where Rabbi Benish lay. Its floor was wet and muddy, and it reeked of sickness and medicines. The citizens of Goray milled about the sickroom, careworn, chewing at their beards, rubbing their foreheads, and loudly debating what was to be done. Women with filthy kerchiefs on their heads huddled drearily together, whispering in corners, blowing their noses in their aprons, and sighing aloud. The table where the rabbi had studied the Torah for more than half a century had been moved aside; the doors of the bookchest were wide open; the spindly legs of the antique chairs cracked and split under the unaccustomed weight of the visitors, and everything seemed suddenly to be amiss. The sick man lay in his bed under two comforters, his velvet coat on his legs. Perspiration beaded his high, bruised forehead, his eyes were closed, and his beard tangled like flax. His whole appearance had changed.

The rabbi's house was greatly disordered. The rabbi's wife moved about