Satan in Goray

on humans, had done them an injury.
    At nightfall the peasant healer finally arrived. The messengers reported that the peasant had refused to come under any circumstance and that they had had to get him dead drunk and drag him all the way. He was a tiny old man, wearing straw shoes and a sheep-skin coat with the wool side out. His tremendous hat was pushed authoritatively back over his white curls. His small eyes were red and always smiling. He was led into the room where Rabbi Benish lay; the door was opened wide in his honor, as though he were a great physician. The old man rubbed his hands joy-fully together, and began to hee-haw and skip about. His toothless mouth babbled something foolish and sly.
    "He wants another cupful," one of the messengers confided to the rabbi's wife. They poured the peasant half a cup. He took a piece of dry cheese out of his pocket, bit it, and tears of pleasure rolled down his cheeks. Then he approached the sick bed to show what he could do. He looked at Rabbi Benish as though the rabbi were only pretending to be ill. The moment the peasant grasped his bad arm Rabbi Benish began screaming and twisting in his bed as though to tear himself free. The peasant pulled so violently they heard the bone crack. His drunken face turned blue with the strain and with sudden wrath. Rabbi Benish gagged and fainted--they were barely able to revive him. The peasant fell into a murderous rage and grabbed a vessel and smashed it to the earth.
    "Devils in human shape!" he screamed, and his fists shook. He seemed to be about to throw himself at the sick man.
    With difficulty they managed to get the peasant out of the sick room and persuade him to return to his village. Afraid he might collapse in some field and freeze to death, he was so drunk--and that the peasants might then accuse the Jews of killing him, and descend upon the town, they found a man who agreed to take him home.
    Meanwhile, night fell, and, with it came a frost more bitter than any the old folks could remember. Water froze in the well, and the pail cracked. An ice hill formed up to the very rim of the well, and it was dangerous to go near it, for one false step was enough to send one over the edge. Though the ovens were heated in every house, small children in their cribs cried with the cold. As always on a night like this, there were numerous accidents and evil afflictions. Infants would suddenly begin to choke, lose their breath, and turn blue. The brandy and pepper placed on their bellies made things even worse. Girls put on men's jackets, bundled up in double layers of shawls, and went seeking women who could avert the evil eye by incantations. In many houses the stoves suddenly began to smoke so heavily that, to avoid suffocation, people had to pour water over the fire. In one house soot began to burn in the chimney, and a ladder had to be quickly found for someone to crawl up the crooked, slippery roof and poke wet sacks and rags down the chimney. Everybody began coughing. Elsewhere, there were cases of frozen arms and legs.
    In Rabbi Benish's room the company gradually thinned out, until everyone had left; the room looked like an inn just emptied of guests. Ever since the peasant had tried to push his arm back into its socket, the rabbi's suffering had grown greater every minute. The flesh of his bad arm had swollen, became puffed, and had a fat, ugly smoothness about it; it was steaming with heat. Late at night Rabbi Benish grew delirious with pain. He demanded that his wife pay him in full the one hundred and fifty gold pieces that his father-in-law had pledged. Then suddenly he wanted to know if his dead son-in-law had eaten the evening meal. This was taken as a bad omen, and his family burst into tears. Rabbi Benish opened one eye, came to himself momentarily, and said: "Take me away to Lublin. For God's sake! I do not want to lie in the graveyard in Goray."
    Early the next morning a sleigh with two horses stood before the rabbi's house. Rabbi Benish was dressed and covered with several comforters and whole bundles of straw. Grunam and the rabbi's wife accompanied him. Even his foes gathered and followed the sleigh to the bridge. Women cried and wrung their hands, as at a funeral. One woman flung herself in front of the horses, hoarsely screaming: "Holy Rabbi, why do you forsake us? Rabbi! Ho-ly Rabbi!"

    PART TWO

    1

    The Wedding

    The day of Reb Itche Mates' wedding. For three days, engaged in a constant round of