‘Just growing-pains.’ ‘Sons take after the brothers of their mother. My brother had it five years!’ said the mother. ‘He’ll grow out of it!’ said the others.

Then one day smallpox broke out in the town; the authorities ordered vaccination, and the doctors forced their way into the houses of the Jews. Many hid themselves, but Mendel Singer, the righteous, fled before no punishment of God. Resigned, he even accepted the vaccination.

It was a warm sunny morning when the commission came through Mendel’s street. In the row of Jewish houses Mendel’s was the last. Accompanied by a policeman, who carried a big book under his arm, Dr. Soltysiuk went to perform the vaccination, a fluttering, blond moustache in his brown face, a gold-rimmed pince-nez on his reddened nose, taking long steps, creaking in his yellow leather leggings. Because of the heat his coat hung on his shoulders over his blue smock so that its sleeves looked like an extra pair of arms, also prepared to do vaccinations. Thus came Dr. Soltysiuk into the streets of the Jews. About him resounded the lamentations of women and the howls of children who had not been able to hide themselves. The policeman pulled women and children out of deep cellars and down from high attics, out of narrow closets and great straw baskets. The sun brooded, the doctor sweated. He had to vaccinate no less than one hundred and seventy-six Jews; for each who escaped and could not be reached, he thanked God in his heart. When he reached the fourth of the little blue-whitewashed houses, he winked at the policeman not to search too zealously. The farther the doctor went, the louder swelled the screaming. It floated before his steps. The howling of those who were still afraid united with the curses of those who were already inoculated. Weary and distrait, he sank with a heavy groan upon the bench in Mendel’s kitchen and asked for a glass of water. His glance fell upon little Menuchim. He lifted the cripple and said: ‘He will be an epileptic’ He planted anxiety in the father’s heart. ‘All children have their periods,’ put in the mother. ‘It’s not that,’ insisted the doctor. ‘But perhaps I could cure him. There is life in his eyes.’

He wanted to take the little one to the hospital immediately. Deborah was ready. ‘They will cure him free,’ she said.