At such moments he would be ready to hug, to kiss, or to cry; or
else to curse, to fight, and to laugh at the same time.
Right here you can see the difference between the Jew and the
Gentile. The finer soul of the Jew may contract and settle on the
very point of his nose. But the grosser soul of the Gentile needs,
as it were, more space to spread over. This, I believe, is why
Khlopov never failed to get a clean shave on the eve of every
holiday.
As soon as Khlopov had entered the room, he began to play with me
and Marusya. He gave us candy, and insisted on dancing a jig with
us.
Anna met him with a frown: "Drunk again?" But this time her eyes
seemed to have no power over Khlopov. He could not stand it any
longer, and gave tit for tat. "Zhidovka!" he shouted. I looked at
Anna: she turned red. Marusya blushed. Khlopov sobered up, and his
soul shrank to its usual size. Anna went to her room. The spell
was broken.
The word "Zhidovka" hurled at Anna made me start back. What could
it mean, I wondered. I felt sorry for Khlopov, for Marusya, for
Anna, and for the holiday mood that had been spoilt by a single
word.
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