"Исаак Башевис Зингер. Taibele and her demon " - читать интересную книгу автора

escorted only the children of the poor, and seldom ate a spoonful of hot
food, but had to content himself with dry crusts.
Alchonon became thinner and thinner, but his feet remained as nimble as
ever. With his lanky legs, he seemed to stride down the street as though on
stilts. He must have suffered constant thirst, for he was always coming down
to the well. Sometimes he would merely help a dealer or a peasant to water
his horse. One day, when Taibele noticed from the distance how his caftan
was torn and ragged, she called him into her shop. He threw a frightened
glance and turned white.
"I see your caftan is torn," said Taibele. "If you wish, I will advance
you a few yards of cloth. You can pay it off later, five pennies a week."
"No."
"Why not?" Taibele asked in astonishment. "I won't haul you before the
rabbi if you fall behind. You'll pay when you can."
"No."
And he quickly walked out of the store, fearing she might recognize his
voice.
In summertime it was easy to visit Taibele in the middle of the night.
Alchonon made his way through back lanes, clutching his caftan around his
naked body. In winter, the dressing and undressing in Taibele's cold hallway
became increasingly painful. But worst of all were the nights after a fresh
snowfall. Alchonon was worried that Taibele or one of the neighbors might
notice his tracks. He caught cold and began to cough. One night he got into
Taibele's bed with his teeth chattering; he could not warm up for a long
time. Afraid that she might discover his hoax, he invented explanations and
excuses. But Taibele neither probed nor wished to probe to closely. She had
long discovered that a devil had all the habits and frailties of a man.
Hurmizah perspired, sneezed, hiccupped, yawned. Sometimes his breath smelled
of onion, sometimes of garlic. His body felt like the body of her husband,
bony and hairy, with Adam's apple and a navel. At times, Hurmizah was in a
jocular mood, at other times a sigh broke from him. His feet were not goose
feet, but human, with nails and frost blisters. Once Taibele asked him the
meaning of these things, and Hurmizah explained: "When one of us consorts
with a human female, he assumes the shape of a man. Otherwise, she would die
of fright."
Yes, Taibele got used to him and loved him. She was no longer terrified
of him or his impish antics. His tales were inexhaustible, but Taibele often
found contradictions in them. Like all liars, he had a short memory. He had
told her at first that devils were immortal. But one night he asked: "What
will you do if I die?"
"But devils don't die!"
"They are taken to the lowest abyss..."
That winter there was an epidemic in town. Foul winds came from the
river, the woods, and the swamps. Not only children, but adults as well were
brought down with the ague. It rained and it hailed. Floods broke the dam of
the river. The storms blew off an arm of the windmill. On Wednesday night,
when Hurmizah came into Taibele's bed, she noticed that his body was burning
hot, but his feet were icy. He shivered and moaned. He tried to entertain
her with talk of she-devils, of how they seduced young men, how they
cavorted with other devils, splashed about in the ritual bath, tied elflocks