From the Memoirs of M. Kasov

43 SADOFF IRA SADOFF FROM THE MEMOIRS OF M. KASOV He could see the beads of sweat on the flanks of the horses of the czar's four henchmen, that's how close they were. He had been pulling up carrots from the black earth, watching how the rich soil seemed to cling to the thin white roots, when he looked up to see they had come for him. He noticed everything about them: the intimidating black boots, the rifles in their slings, the white muslin blouses trimmed with gold thread. He got up with his arms full of cabbages and potatoes, the fruits of his morning's labor, and walked slowly to the house, as though he were still alone, undistrubed in his daily ritual. When he opened the door with his foot, his wife and little boy, backs turned to him, were standing over the hot tub washing clothes, their perspiration dropping into the soapy water. He placed the vegetables in a basket, picked up the family's savings from a jar near the stove, and fled out the back door, into the woods which had shielded them from the wind and snowstorms of the winter, and now would protect him from the horsemen of the czar's army. He heard the knock on the door, and his name being called, "M. Kasov, the czar requests your presence. . ."; looking back, he could see Emma go to the front door, but he could only imagine her terrified response. "He's working in the field's gathering vegetables for tonight's supper." It was possible his family did not see him pass through the house. His presence had seemed invisible before, as when he instructed his wife on how to steam the cabbage, or how much to spend on household wares. If the soldiers gave chase to him in the woods, there were places he could go which were inaccessible to horses: caverns, brambles, rocks by the stream; and past the woods there were inns, other Jews with whom he'd attended services, who would protect him from the War. People he could count on, who'd feed and clothe him until it was safe to walk the streets. He alternately walked and ran through the woods until evening, not once looking back to see if they had followed him. His mind was blank, he used his eyes only to look outward so he would not trip on the stones and small bushes in his path. Like an animal himself, he relied on his instincts until he at last came to rest, shortly after nightfall, when the air had turned from the pale colors of sunset to a dim grey and finally black. Until his eyes seemed closed when they were open. Then he could readjust to the objects in his way, the trees and their branches, paths he'd memorized so many times on his trips to town, some twelve miles away from his small house. When he at last sat down to bed for the night in the warm spring air, he 44 THE MINNESOTA REVIEW wedged himself between two boulders as protection from the weather or the surprise of footsteps coming from behind. He did not feel tired, though the muscles in his legs ached: his mind was still active, the phrase 'the czar's army' came into his head again and again, like a cantor's chant on the sabbath . He became suddenly full of indignation: did they really believe he'd take up arms against his friends, his crazy friends who met secretly in neighbors' houses, who had infantile dreams of overthrowing the military, the czar himself. His friends may have been naive to have thoughts of power themselves, but did the czar, who had done nothing for M. Kasov in his life, did he think that he, a man with dignity and a family, would slay his friends simply because he'd been ordered to? Did they think he would take up arms at all, he who could not shoot a rabbit, who did not know the barrel of a gun from a fencepost, who had to buy his meat in town from the...