The Denver Jewish news., 1920-03-10

into a dead-like torpor. He talks In
his dreams, he yells, he discourses
with nightly terrors in broken SEN
fences, hoarse, saw-voiced. an intrusion
upon the lifelessness of his surround
ings. Presently he relapses into the
general stiffness, breathing motionless,
living corpse among eOrpses, until
Il new fit overtakes him. What images
Of terror, what thoughts Of death are
crowding in upon his sleep? He
wrestles in the darkness with the I'M
seen spectres within him, he means,
folds his hands, collapses again into
his corpse-like slumber. For while,
nothing stirs in the hekdesh save the
low spluttering of the candles. The
horrors of the hour and place turn
shadowy and noiseless.
There now. A deep sigh, forerun-
ner of renewed struggles, and the old
man, in the clutches of another spasm,
talks, with his eyes closed, into the
night
Sixty years on beggar's rounds.
Sixty years a life like the winds
sixty years. l was young once-strong.
lonesome, desolate. Sixty years on
beggars round-with the winds blow
ing about me-" He heaves heart
breaking sigh-deep and profound
then yells like mad: sixty years
sixty years."-His head sinks upon his
Ioo tn int da.hlv
peace. The funeral candles splutter,
"Yankel the Eternal lisps his prayers.
in the spectral stiffness, the beggar
sobs softly in his sleep.
Another start. He turns and twists
in his sleep, strokes his forehead with
IL fleshless, -begrimed hand, as If
trying to collect his wits, and sobbing-
ly he speaks:
sixty years without roof-without a
sire-did I ever have father? 1
said KaddOsh-for my mother-only
for my mother without father
. sixty years in the hekdesh."
4 gain he mumbles with voice hoarse
with tears: sixty years-fatherlessl
sixty years in the hekdesh."
At the wall, toward the door, lies IL
young woman. dirty-faced and frowsy-
haired. Her beggar's scrip, filled with
crumbs, serves her as headrest. She |
lies PROSTATE, her hair, long, black and
touslcd. straying all about her. one |
of her hands rests upon the shoulder
OF an old crone called .'the mother of
the hekdesh," with the other she COW
crs her bare breast. Her sallow
features, as revealed in the flicker OF
the cnndles. are not without traces
of former beauty. She sleeps In quiet
content, as if at peace with the world.
The people of the hekdesh call her "the
Princess" for she swears but seldom
and is always self-contained and still
No one knows her birth, her kinsfolk,
or the story of her fall. The hekdesh
treats her as an alien intru-
der. Whenever the place is crowded,
She has to sleep at the door. On i'll
stormswept nights the wind whistles
and wheezes thru openings without
number, in resentment Of her princess
like airs. The hekdesh will have none
of her.
Tonight she has to sleep once more
near the door. She, too, joins now the
ranks of the hagridden and obsessed,
for the damp of her resting-place and
the bitter draught at the door do not /
let her sleep in peace. She yawns in
to the face of the wind and seeks for
getfulness in sleep. But sleep in peace
she cannot-the wind keeps her awake
and the chill of the room stabs her.
She turns around and about, and muir
nurs: "A bed, bed-sle has bed
And with her head upon her right
arm, she holds forth, in steady wills
per: "She is wife and mother
held in esteem-she has bed-a good,
soft bed-and / am in the hekdesh.
She was pious and mean-stupid and
ugly-but she knew how to bide her
he fell TO her lot. And
tonight she has bed-a good bed-a
warm bed-and am in the hekdesh.
oh for that shutdown upon the heights
the air was soft, the birds sang
ulluringly, it was warm and peaceful
the air was soft, the hill was
high, the sun was red, he near me,
and l weak aud that's why ! am
in the hekdesb, without bed
The grave-digger, lisping mummy
near his dead. gives n brief sign OF
life. He turns his head in the penum-
bra Of the room, frowns heavily as he
pspies the woman neal the door. Her
flow of words has beaten against the