Satan in Goray

will prepare it!"
    On the Great Sabbath before Passover, after Levi's explication, Reb Gedaliya preached a sermon that was full of admonitions and consolations. He re-minded the congregation that the days of exile were numbered, and warned them that the last souls who were to be brought into the world waited beneath the Throne of Glory. He scolded them that so many young men and girls were still unmarried. Such neglect of the principle of fruitfulness would delay their redemption. He demonstrated by means of cabala that all the laws in the Torah and the Shulchan Aruch referred to the commandment to be fruitful and multiply; and that, when the end of days was come, not only would Rabbi Gershom's ban on polygamy become null and void, but all the strict "Thou shalt nots," as well. Every pious woman would then be as fair as Abigail, and there would be no monthly flow of blood at all; for impure blood comes from the Evil One. Men would be permitted to know strange women. Such encounters might even be considered a religious duty; for each time a man and a woman unite they form a mystical combination and promote a union between the Holy One, blessed be He, and the Divine Presence. Reb Gedaliya explained all these things in a pleasant way and with many parables; he recited from memory whole sections from the Zohar and other works of cabala and adorned his speech with mystical combinations and permutations. Several times he raised his glance to the women's gallery, which was fuller than it had been in former years. It was well known that the women looked on Reb Gedaliya with sym-pathetic eyes.
    A few days before Passover the village runners brought a great abundance of beasts and fowls into Goray. These could be purchased for very little, and Reb Gedaliya had requested that no expense be spared, for the coming Passover would be the final one before the redemption. From early morning until late at night he stood before a blood-filled pit and, with his long butcher's knife, tirelessly cut into warm, distended necks, slaughtering innumerable calves and sheep, hens, geese, and ducks. The month of Nisan arrived, mild and sunny. From the hills around Goray the last traces of snow disappeared. The long, deep gutters that extended through the town to the river overflowed, flooding all inclines and even the floors of houses. The puddles mirrored bits of sky; rippled by the slightest breeze, they grew turbid, like deep waters. School boys ran barefoot. The peasant women coming to Goray to sell eggs and horseradish, lifted their dresses high, and splashed about with naked feet. Here and there the first grasses sprouted. A tumultuous throng filled the courtyard where Reb Gedaliya was slaughtering. Sooty housewives and daughters, with their sleeves rolled up, were scrubbing tables and benches in honor of the holiday, scouring them with ashes, scraping so fiercely with their knives that the noise grated. Boiling water in a kettle, they cleansed the crockery and cutlery. With bare, scorched fingers they carried glowing coals and threw them into the hissing water. Reb Gedaliya was surrounded by a dense crowd of women and girls. The feathers flew above his head, like snow, and were borne off in clouds of steam. The women pushed and quarreled among themselves. From every side hands were raised, clutching pent fowl. Wings fluttered and beat, blood spurted, smearing faces and dresses. Bent over the stump of an old tree, Reb Gedaliya accepted pennies with accustomed speed and constantly joked, for he hated sadness, and his way of serving God was through joy.
    His Seder was held in the study house, where he was joined by the rest of the Sabbatai Zevi sect. Seated at the head of the table, he wore a white smock, a high mitre on his head; his beard and ear locks were combed and moist from the bathhouse. The candle flames were reflected in the gold-stitched skull caps, in the satin seams of the sleeves, in the polished and gilded wine glasses, and in the women's jewelry. The women sat with the menfolk, as Reb Gedaliya had bidden. They mingled the un-leavened bread with the meats, the dumplings with the pancakes, and all ate and drank together, like one family. Reb Gedaliya, who was a widower, having buried his fourth wife, leaned back at his ease on his pillowed chair and bade all the boys ask the Four Questions together; further, he permitted more than the prescribed four goblets of wine to be drunk. Among those at the Seder in the study house were