They rush out into God's world which has opened up
for them both. They take each other's hands, and fly down the hill that
smiles at them--"Come here, children!" They leap towards the sun that
greets them and calls them: "Come, children!" When they are tired of
running, they sit down on God's earth that knows no Jew and no Gentile,
but whispers invitingly: "Children, come to me, to me."

* * *

They have much to tell each other, not having met throughout the whole
winter. Feitel boasts that he knows the whole Hebrew alphabet. Fedoka
boasts that he has a whip. Feitel boasts that it is the eve of Passover.
They have "_matzos_" for the whole festival and wine. "Do you remember,
Fedoka, I gave you a '_matzo_' last year?" "'_Matzo_,'" repeats Fedoka.
A smile overspreads his pleasant face. It seems he remembers the taste
of the "_matzo_." "Would you like to have some '_matzo_' now, fresh
'_matzo_'?" Is it necessary to ask such a question? "Then come with me,"
says Feitel, pointing up the hill which smiled to them invitingly. They
climbed the hill. They gazed at the warm sun through their fingers. They
threw themselves on the damp earth which smelled so fresh. Feitel drew
out from under his blouse a whole fresh, white "_matzo_," covered with
holes on both sides. Fedoka licked his fingers in advance. Feitel broke
the "_matzo_" in halves, and gave one half to his friend. "What do you
say to the '_matzo_,' Fedoka?" What could Fedoka say when his mouth was
stuffed with "_matzo_" that crackled between his teeth, and melted under
his tongue like snow? One minute, and there was no more "_matzo_." "All
gone?" Fedoka threw his grey eyes at Feitel's blouse as a cat looks at
butter. "Want more?" asked Feitel, looking at Fedoka through his sharp
black eyes. What a question! "Then wait a while," said Feitel. "Next
year you'll get more." They both laughed at the joke. And without a
word, as if they had already arranged it, they threw themselves on the
ground, and rolled down the hill like balls, quickly, quickly downwards.

* * *

At the bottom of the hill they stood up, and looked at the murmuring
river that ran away to the left. They turned to the right, going further
and further over the broad fields that were not yet green in all places,
but showed signs of being green soon--that did not yet smell of grass,
but would smell of grass soon. They walked and walked in silence
bewitched by the loveliness of the earth, under the bright, smi