delight,
his soul rejoices--a bright boy, Froike, a treasure!

"If you want to go to the bath, there is a shirt ready for you!"

Thus Bath-sheba as she passes him, still not venturing to look him in
the face, and Fishel has a sensation of unspeakable comfort, he feels
like a man escaped from prison and back in a lightsome world, among
those who are near and dear to him. And he sees in fancy a very, very
hot bath-house, and himself lying on the highest bench with other Jews,
and he perspires and swishes himself with the birch twigs, and can never
have enough.

Home from the bath, fresh and lively as a fish, like one newborn, he
rehearses the portion of the Law for the festival, puts on the Sabbath
cloak and the new girdle, steals a glance at Bath-sheba in her new dress
and silk kerchief--still a pretty woman, and so pious and good!--and
goes with Froike to the Shool. The air is full of Sholom Alechems,
"Welcome, Reb Fishel the teacher, and what are you about?"--"A teacher
teaches!"--"What is the news?"--"What should it be? The world is the
world!"--"What is going on in Balta?"--"Balta is Balta."

The same formula is repeated every time, every half-year, and Nissel the
reader begins to recite the evening prayers, and sends forth his voice,
the further the louder, and when he comes to "And Moses declared the
set feasts of the Lord unto the children of Israel," it reaches nearly
to Heaven. And Froike stands at his father's side, and recites the
prayers melodiously, and once more Fishel's heart expands and flows over
with joy--a good child, Froike, a good, pious child!

"A happy holiday, a happy holiday!"

"A happy holiday, a happy year!"

At home they find the Passover table spread: the four cups, the bitter
herbs, the almond and apple paste, and all the rest of it. The
reclining-seats (two small benches with big cushions) stand ready, and
Fishel becomes a king. Fishel, robed in white, sits on the throne of his
dominion, Bath-sheba, the queen, sits beside him in her new silk
kerchief; Efroim, the prince, in a new cap, and the princess Resele with
her plait, sit opposite them. Look on with respect! His majesty Fishel
is seated on his throne, and has assumed the sway of his kingdom.

* * * * *

The Chaschtschevate scamps, who love to make game of the whole world,
not to mention a teacher, maintain that one Passover Eve our Fishel sent
his Bath-sheba the following Russian telegram: "Reb