Satan in Goray

the eastern wall, and summoned his sect to a feast in honor of the famous man. The tavern-keeper, who was one of the brotherhood, brought a cask of sour wine that had lain in his cellar for more than fifty years, and Nechele set out cookies, butternuts, and preserves. The guests sang hymns of the new Messiah which he himself had heard in paradise. Reb Gedaliya skillfully poured wine for himself into a tall silver beaker, thrust his huge hairy hands into his embroidered sash, and enumerated the many joyful happenings.
    He related how on the great German Sea Jews and Christians alike had seen a ship whose sails and ropes were of white silk. The sailors spoke in the holy tongue, and on the ship's flag were inscribed the words: "The Twelve Tribes of Israel." In Izmir, three days in succession, a voice from Heaven had cried: "Touch not my messiah Sabbatai Zevi!" The Fast of the Tenth of Tebet had been turned into a holiday, into a day of rejoicing. Wherever the testament of the Messiah came, there men ate meat, drank wine, and blew the ram's horn. In the great communities of Hamburg, Amsterdam, and Prague, all the Jews--men and women alike--danced in the streets, holding the Torah scrolls, adorned with crowns and precious stones. Bandsmen played, beat on drums, rang bells, and carried a white canopy before them. On the Sabbath the priests blessed the congregations, as in the ancient days when the Holy Temple was still standing, and thrice daily the cantor led the congregation in the psalm beginning, "0 Lord, in Thy strength the king rejoiceth." In every land new prophets were appearing. Ordinary men--even girls and Christians--were throwing themselves to the earth and crying aloud that Sabbatai Zevi, the anointed of the Lord (blessed be He!), had come to redeem God's elect, the Children of Israel. Sinners who until then had openly denied and angered God, had now become penitent, putting on sackcloth and wandering from town to town in atonement and calling upon the multitudes to confess their sins. Rich converts were discarding their wealth and prostrating themselves at the feet of the rabbis, pleading to be readmitted into the fold. Jerusalem was being rebuilt, and rose once more in all her former splendor. In many towns death had become unknown.
    Reb Gedaliya said many other things, and the more he said the more flushed the faces of his listeners became, and the more crowded and festive it grew in the house. Nechele and the other women who were serving the guest of honor shed tears of joy and embraced one another. The men listened intently so as not to miss a word. They stood shoulder to shoulder, muttering to themselves and trembling at the thought of the great days that were coming. Reb Godel Chasid sought to elbow his way through the crowd so that he might look Reb Gedaliya in the face but was swept off his feet. A boy fainted and had to be carried into the open air. The eyes of the young men were alight with holy enthusiasm, their ear locks shook, and beads of sweat ran down their foreheads. Although Levi had gone to great lengths to see that there should be no commotion at the feast and that only those who were members of the sect should be present, the people of Goray had heard of the arrival of the newcomer. Boys and girls besieged the windows of the study house, people trampled one another in their eagerness to hear the stranger's message. Reb Gedaliya placed his arms on the shoulders of two young men, climbed on the table, and turned toward the door where the crowd had gathered. His robust figure and sympathetic words won them over immediately.
    "Don't push, brothers!" he cried, in a kind, fatherly voice. "I am staying with you. If God wills it, we shall rejoice often."
    Life seemed to have become more pleasant in Goray with Reb Gedaliya's appearance. Despite the frost, the day was sun-filled. The snowy hills around Goray reflected sunlight, blinding the eyes, and miraculously blending earth with sky. The air smelled of Passover, of salvation, and of consolation. Hearing that a slaughterer had arrived in town, the village runners lost no time in setting out for the nearby villages to purchase calves and fowl. Next morning the town resounded to the mooing of cows, the cackling of geese, and the crowing of hens. Broths and roasts appeared once more. Out of their old pantries the women drew moldy salting boards and soaking vessels, skimming ladles and chop knives. Once more they gathered about the cloven butcher