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They rent the peace of the earth and increased Mendel Singer’s unease. Though he was scarcely five minutes away from the houses of the little town, he felt infinitely far from the inhabited world of the Jews, inexpressibly alone, threatened by dangers and yet incapable of going back. He turned northward: there the forest breathed darkly. On the right the swamps, with scattered silver willows, stretched for many versts. On the left the fields lay under opalescent veils. Sometimes Mendel thought he heard a human sound from an indeterminable direction. He heard familiar people talking, and he felt as if he understood them. Then he remembered that he had heard those voices long ago. He realized that he was now only hearing them again, merely their echo, which had been waiting so long in his memory. All of a sudden there was a rustling to the left in the grain, even though no wind had stirred. The rustling came closer and closer, now Mendel could also see the head-high grain moving, a person must be creeping through, if not a gigantic animal, a monster. To run away would probably have been right, but Mendel waited and prepared for death. A peasant or a soldier would now emerge from the grain, accuse Mendel of theft and beat him to death onthe spot – with a stone perhaps. It could also be a tramp, a murderer, a criminal, who doesn’t want to be heard and seen. “Holy God!” whispered Mendel. Then he heard voices. It was two people walking through the grain, and that it wasn’t one calmed the Jew, even though he told himself at the same time that it could be two murderers. No, it wasn’t murderers, it was lovers. A girl’s voice spoke, a man laughed. Even lovers could be dangerous, there was many an example of a man flying into a rage when he caught a witness to his love. Soon the two would emerge from the field. Mendel Singer overcame his fearful disgust for the worms of the earth and lay down quietly, his eyes directed at the grain. Then the grain parted, the man emerged first, a man in uniform, a soldier with a dark blue cap, booted and spurred, the metal flashed and rang softly. Behind him a yellow shawl gleamed, a yellow shawl, a yellow shawl. A voice sounded, the voice of the girl. The soldier turned around, put his arm around her shoulders, now the shawl opened, the soldier went behind the girl, he held his hands on her breast, the girl embedded herself in the soldier.
    Mendel closed his eyes and let the misfortune pass by in the darkness. Had he not been afraid of revealing himself, he would have liked to plug his ears too, so that he wouldn’t have to hear. But as it was he had to hear: terrible words, the silver rattle of the spurs, soft mad giggling and the man’s deep laugh. Longingly he now awaited the yapping of the dogs. If only they would howl loudly, they should howl very loudly! Murderers should emergefrom the grain to beat him to death. The voices receded. It was silent. All was gone. Nothing had been. Mendel Singer hastily stood up, looked all around, lifted with both hands the skirts of his long coat and ran toward the little town. The window shutters were closed, but some women were still sitting outside their doors, chatting and rasping. He slowed his run to avoid attracting attention, he merely took great hurried strides, his coattails still in his hands. He stood before his house. He knocked on the window. Deborah opened it. “Where’s Miriam?” asked Mendel. “She’s still taking a walk,” said Deborah, “she can’t be stopped! Day and night she goes walking. She’s in the house for barely half an hour. God has punished me with these children, has anyone ever in the world –”“Be quiet,” Mendel interrupted her, “when Miriam comes home, tell her: I was asking for her. I’m not coming home today, but only tomorrow morning. Today is the anniversary of the death of my grandfather Zallel, I’m going to