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Pioneers | 25 8 Eizerman stood all the while silent and motionless, as if under a spell. The exchange produced an incredibly strong, almost overwhelming impression on him. From the first lines he understood what was going on and immediately grasped all the power of the subtle, murderous irony of the piece. Holding his breath, his mouth half-open and eyes wide-open, he listened to the reading—it seemed that he was hearing a severe, denunciatory sermon delivered by an ancient prophet. Everything he’d read earlier, not excluding even Hattot Ne’urim, seemed at that moment to be drab and trivial compared to that fiery, venomous “pronouncement .” How could one possibly compare some tale, half of which might have been invented, about people who, although they existed (Eizerman had no doubt of that), were concealed behind invented names, with this daring, sweeping denunciation hurled right in the face of one of the representatives of darkness and lethargy? Right here in this tiny room, on completely ordinary scraps of paper, a sharp spear was being forged that would pierce the heart of the mighty enemy. And in spite of this, the avenger remained in total safety and would have the opportunity to inflict his mortal blows again and again. . . . Before Eizerman’s eyes, and for the very first time, one of those “unheard-of deeds” was taking place in concrete form, the kind that groups of maskilim provoke; he was struck by the strength and the splendor of this “deed.” Eizerman had stared hard at the reader: he couldn’t believe that he saw before him a mekhaber, a genuine mekhaber, a man of high breeding. And, from the very first, he was filled with deep reverence for this great man. There he was, a genuine maskil—disguised from head to toe as a devout Jew, aloof and impervious , with proud dignity and special mystery in his manner and movements. Such a man, of course, could not, should not condescend to him, to little, unimportant Eizerman; in so doing he’d merely lose his dignity. “Well? What do you say? Huh?” cried Uler with a joyful laugh. “Who is ‘he’? Who?” asked Eizerman in a mysterious whisper, as if referring to some vision. “You want to know who he is? I’ll tell you! He’s the nephew of that very same Reb Dovid Avershtokh, whom he praised in such glowing terms. . . .” “What are you saying?” “That’s not all,” Mirkin interrupted. “Last time he denounced his own father, the wealthiest man and the greatest usurer in town. He exposed all his swindles.” 26 | Pioneers “Good Lord!” Eizerman cried suddenly in painful entreaty. “If only a man could be found who’d write something like that about our Miloslavka. Oy, if you knew, if you only knew what sort of darkness reigns there. The same, exactly the same kind of bloodsuckers and hypocrites prevail there, like this Reb Dovid. They do just as they please and aren’t afraid of anyone. And nobody knows about their evil deeds. Oy, if only someone would write about them! Miloslavka would be saved!” “What do you think!” replied Uler. “It’s very simple. Go tell Sheinburg what’s going on there—give him the names of all the crooks—and he’ll write it all up. Mirkin and I—we could add to it, strengthen it. . . .” “Oy! If you only knew what sort of crooks we have there,” Eizerman began again. “Where don’t they exist, these crooks and hypocrites?” Mirkin cut him off. “They’re everywhere! But they don’t have long to reign! Soon, very soon their regime will end. The sun will rise!” he concluded with deep conviction. They kept silent a few moments. Mirkin, who was absorbed in some thought, looked pensively at Uler. Happening to catch sight of his worn-out boots, he observed in passing and with some astonishment, “What worn-out boots you have: your toes are sticking out. . . .” “What of it?” Uler replied apathetically, also glancing down at his boots. “If you find it unattractive—then you should be ashamed. . . .” “I’m not talking about attractiveness. . . . You might catch cold. . . .” Uler burst out laughing. “I’ve been walking around with a bare nose for twenty-three years and I’ve never caught a cold, so how will I catch a cold from my bare toes? You talk like a child—it makes me sick!” Apparently, Mirkin found Uler’s objection persuasive and made no further...

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