The Enchanted Wanderer and Other Stories

But precisely what it was, he couldn’t tell.

“I heard,” he says, “that the gentleman sealed them, and they put a seal on him.”

But how it was that they sealed each other, he couldn’t tell coherently.

Meanwhile Pimen came over and, like a Jew himself, rolled his eyes this way and that: obviously, he didn’t know what to say. Luka says:

“What are you standing there for, you spielman, go on now and bring your spielmaning to an end!”

Pimen and the soldier got into the boat and left.

An hour later our Pimen comes back and puts up a cheerful front, but it’s clear he’s cruelly out of sorts.

Luka questions him:

“Tell me, featherbrain,” he says, “and you’d better tell me in all frankness, what were you up to there?”

And he says:

“Nothing.”

Well, so it was left at nothing, and yet it was by no means nothing.

VII

A most astonishing thing had happened with the gentleman our Pimen supposedly had us pray for. As I told you, he set out for the Jewish town and arrived there late at night, when nobody was thinking about him, and at once sealed every one of the shops, and informed the police that he would come and inspect them the next morning. The Jews, naturally, found it out at once and came to him at once that night asking to make a deal, meaning they had no end of illegal goods. They come and shove ten thousand roubles at the gentleman straight off. He says: “I can’t, I’m a big official, invested with confidence, and I don’t take bribes,” and the Jews psht-psht-psht among themselves and offer him fifteen. He says again: “I can’t.” They offer twenty. He says: “What is it, don’t you understand that I can’t, I’ve already let the police know about going there together tomorrow to inspect.” They psht-psht again, and then say:

“Vel, Your Excellency, dat’s nothing dat you let the police know, here ve’re giffing you tventy-five tousend, and you jes gif us your seal till morning and go peacefully to bed, and ve don’t need anyting else.”

The gentleman thought and thought: he considered himself a big person, but, obviously, even big persons don’t have hearts of stone. He took the twenty-five thousand and gave them his seal, with which he had done the sealing, and went to bed. During the night, the Jews, naturally, dragged everything they had to out of their cellars and sealed them again with the same seal, and the gentleman was still asleep when they were already psht-pshting in his front hall. Well, so he lets them in; they thank him and say:

“And now, Your Honor, you’re velcome to inspect.”

Well, he makes as if he doesn’t hear that, and says:

“Give me back my seal, quickly.”

And the Jews say:

“And you gif us back our money.”

“What? How’s that?” says the gentleman. But they stand their ground:

“Ve left you de money as a pledge.”

“What do you mean, as a pledge?”

“Dat’s right, zir,” they say, “it vas a pledge.”

“You’re lying,” he says, “scoundrels that you are, Christ-sellers, you gave me that money to keep.”

They nudge each other and chuckle:

“Hörst-du,” they say, “you hear, ve supposedly gafe it outright … Hm, hm! Oy vey, as if ve could be so shtupid, just like some muzhiks mitout politics, to gif such a big person a khabar.” (“Khabar” is their word for a bribe.)