ask you if there's any news of Clara.”
“None of your damned business! Get out of my sight!”
The woman tugged on his arm. “Is that the shawl you were telling me about?”
My hand was on the door latch when Pa grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh.
“Give that to me!” he roared, yanking the shawl off my shoulders.
“Pa, what are you doing? Give me back Ma's shawl! She wanted me to have it! Please, Pa! Give it back to me!”
He opened the door and pushed me into the dawn. I heard the key turn in the lock as I tumbled down the steps, scraping my knees.
I banged on the door with all my might.
“Please, Pa! Please! Give me back Ma's shawl!”
There was no answer. After a long time, I limped back to the jail, crying the entire way.
Sergeant Toth ate his breakfast as if he had never seen food before. Half of his meal was gone before he noticed I was still standing in front of him. He stared at me wordlessly. I took a deep breath.
“I was wondering if I could have part of my pay sir.”
“You get room and board!” He lowered his spoon. “You won't have to worry about your job much longer. My housekeeper will be coming back in a few days.”
It took a moment for me to understand what he was saying. It was a calamity. I couldn't go back to Pa. He didn't want me. And as for making a home for Clara, that hope vanished like my dreams of the poor child.
“Go do your job, while you still have one!”
He picked up his spoon and attacked his meal again, as if I wasn't there. I was at the door when one of the jail guards rushed into the office.
“They brought the Jew boy back, sir! He confessed!” he said. “Mr. Bary ordered me to round up all the Jewish men in town and line them up in front of the jail.”
Toth stood.
“Have you done it?”
“I wanted to check first with you, sir.”
“Do as Bary says.”
In less than a half-hour, every Jewish man in Tisza-Eszlar was lined up in front of the jail — the farmers, the butcher, Dr. Weltner. The Jewish prisoners had been herded out ofthe jail to stand with them. Gendarmes were pointing their rifles at the frightened men. The street around the jail was full of angry, menacing villagers. I saw Pa, but although he must have noticed me he turned his head away. Jewish wives and children clung to one another at the back, craning to see the men through the milling crowd. Sam and Mrs. Scharf were among them. It was only then that I realized they had been released from jail.
I could see Bary Recsky and Peczely their heads together on the jail stairs, conferring. At Bary's side, Morris was bent over, clutching his stomach. He looked up, his face bruised and one of his eyes swollen shut.
Bary called to me. “Bring us some water, girl!”
I hefted the pail and cup by my feet. As I filled the cup for Bary, I whispered to Morris, “What happened to you? Why did you confess?”
“Silence! Don't answer her!” ordered Recsky.
I scuttled away with the pail.
Morris swayed and fell to his knees. Mr. Scharf broke away from the gendarmes.
“Leave my poor boy alone!”
“Papa! Papa!” wept Morris as the gendarmes caught Mr. Scharf and dragged him back to the other prisoners.
“Let my papa go!” begged Morris. “Please, let him go! I change my mind!” He turned to Recsky. “I no confess anymore!” he said.
“Changed your mind? Take back your confession? You can't do that!” roared the chief.
“You told me that the boy confessed of his own free will,” said Bary, low and furious. “The confession has to be voluntary for it to stand up in a court of law.”
“Don't be a fool, Bary,” said Peczely “The boy's confession is signed and sealed. You saw it with your own eyes.”
Morris struggled to his feet.
“I lie! I lie when I tell you that we kill girl who missing. We never meet her!” he shouted. The villagers hooted and swore. “I lie because I want you to stop beating me! You say you not hurt my papa if I sign paper! You say
“None of your damned business! Get out of my sight!”
The woman tugged on his arm. “Is that the shawl you were telling me about?”
My hand was on the door latch when Pa grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh.
“Give that to me!” he roared, yanking the shawl off my shoulders.
“Pa, what are you doing? Give me back Ma's shawl! She wanted me to have it! Please, Pa! Give it back to me!”
He opened the door and pushed me into the dawn. I heard the key turn in the lock as I tumbled down the steps, scraping my knees.
I banged on the door with all my might.
“Please, Pa! Please! Give me back Ma's shawl!”
There was no answer. After a long time, I limped back to the jail, crying the entire way.
Sergeant Toth ate his breakfast as if he had never seen food before. Half of his meal was gone before he noticed I was still standing in front of him. He stared at me wordlessly. I took a deep breath.
“I was wondering if I could have part of my pay sir.”
“You get room and board!” He lowered his spoon. “You won't have to worry about your job much longer. My housekeeper will be coming back in a few days.”
It took a moment for me to understand what he was saying. It was a calamity. I couldn't go back to Pa. He didn't want me. And as for making a home for Clara, that hope vanished like my dreams of the poor child.
“Go do your job, while you still have one!”
He picked up his spoon and attacked his meal again, as if I wasn't there. I was at the door when one of the jail guards rushed into the office.
“They brought the Jew boy back, sir! He confessed!” he said. “Mr. Bary ordered me to round up all the Jewish men in town and line them up in front of the jail.”
Toth stood.
“Have you done it?”
“I wanted to check first with you, sir.”
“Do as Bary says.”
In less than a half-hour, every Jewish man in Tisza-Eszlar was lined up in front of the jail — the farmers, the butcher, Dr. Weltner. The Jewish prisoners had been herded out ofthe jail to stand with them. Gendarmes were pointing their rifles at the frightened men. The street around the jail was full of angry, menacing villagers. I saw Pa, but although he must have noticed me he turned his head away. Jewish wives and children clung to one another at the back, craning to see the men through the milling crowd. Sam and Mrs. Scharf were among them. It was only then that I realized they had been released from jail.
I could see Bary Recsky and Peczely their heads together on the jail stairs, conferring. At Bary's side, Morris was bent over, clutching his stomach. He looked up, his face bruised and one of his eyes swollen shut.
Bary called to me. “Bring us some water, girl!”
I hefted the pail and cup by my feet. As I filled the cup for Bary, I whispered to Morris, “What happened to you? Why did you confess?”
“Silence! Don't answer her!” ordered Recsky.
I scuttled away with the pail.
Morris swayed and fell to his knees. Mr. Scharf broke away from the gendarmes.
“Leave my poor boy alone!”
“Papa! Papa!” wept Morris as the gendarmes caught Mr. Scharf and dragged him back to the other prisoners.
“Let my papa go!” begged Morris. “Please, let him go! I change my mind!” He turned to Recsky. “I no confess anymore!” he said.
“Changed your mind? Take back your confession? You can't do that!” roared the chief.
“You told me that the boy confessed of his own free will,” said Bary, low and furious. “The confession has to be voluntary for it to stand up in a court of law.”
“Don't be a fool, Bary,” said Peczely “The boy's confession is signed and sealed. You saw it with your own eyes.”
Morris struggled to his feet.
“I lie! I lie when I tell you that we kill girl who missing. We never meet her!” he shouted. The villagers hooted and swore. “I lie because I want you to stop beating me! You say you not hurt my papa if I sign paper! You say
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