"Sit down, and I will tell you a story about nuts."

"About nuts? About nuts?"

"About nuts."

"Now? War-time?"

"Just because it's war-time. Because your heart is heavy, I want to distract your thoughts from the war. In any case, when you crack a nut, you find a kernel."

. . . . .

His name was Getzel, but they called him Goyetzel. Whoever had God in his heart made fun of Getzel, ridiculed him. He was considered a bit of a fool. Amongst us schoolboys he was looked upon as a young man. He was a clumsily built fellow, had extremely coarse hands, and thick lips. He had a voice that seemed to come from an empty barrel. He wore wide trousers and big top-boots, like a bear. His head was as big as a kneading trough. This head of his, "Reb" Yankel used to say, was stuffed with hay or feathers. The "Rebbe" frequently reminded Getzel of his great size and awkwardness. "Goyetzel," "Coarse being," "Bullock's skin," and other such nicknames were bestowed on him by the teacher. And he never seemed to care a rap about them. He hid in a corner, puffed out his cheeks, and bleated like a calf. You must know that Getzel was fond of eating. Food was dearer to him than anything else. He was a mere stomach. The master called him a glutton, but Getzel didn't care about that either. The minute he saw food, he thrust it into his mouth, and chewed and chewed vigorously. He had sent to him, to the "Cheder," the best of everything. This great clumsy fool was, along with everything else, his wealthy mother's darling—her only child. And she took the greatest care of him. Day and night, she stuffed him like a goose, and was always wailing that her child ate nothing.

"He ought to have the evil eye averted from him," our teacher used to say, behind Getzel's back, of course.

"To the devil with his mother," the teacher's wife used to add, in such a voice, and making such a grimace over her words that it was impossible to keep from laughing. "In Polosya they keep such children in swaddling clothes. May he suffer instead of my old bones!"

"May I live longer than his head," the teacher put in, after her, and pulled Getzel's cap down over his ears.

The whole "Cheder" laughed. Getzel sat silent. He was sulky, but kept silent. It was hard to get him into a temper. But, when he did get into a temper, he was terrible. Even an angry bear could not be fiercer than he. He used to dance with passion, and bite his own big hands with his strong white teeth. If he gave one a blow, one felt it—one enjoyed it. This the boys knew very well. They had tasted his blows, and they were terribly afraid of him. They did not want to have anything to do with him. You know that Jewish children have a lot of respect for beatings. And in order to protect themselves against Getzel, all the ten boys had to keep united—ten against one. And that was how it came about that there were two parties at "Reb" Yankel's "Cheder." On the one side, all the pupils; on the other, Getzel. The boys kept their wits about them; Getzel his fists. The boys worked at their lessons; Getzel ate continually.

. . . . .

It came to pass that on a holiday the boys got together to play nuts. Playing nuts is a game like any other, neither better than tops, nor worse than cards. The game is played in various ways. There are "holes" and "bank" and "caps." But every game finishes up in the same way. One boy loses, another wins. And, as always, he who wins is a clever fellow, a smart fellow, a good fellow. And he who loses is a good-for-nothing, a fool and a ne'er-do-well; just as it happens in the big cities, at the clubs, where people sit playing cards night and day.

The ten boys got together in the "Cheder" to play nuts. They turned over a bench, placed a row of nuts on the floor, and began rolling other nuts downwards. Whoever knocked the most nuts out of the row won the whole lot. Suddenly the door opened, and Getzel came in, his pockets loaded with nuts, as usual.

"Welcome art thou—a Jew!" cried one of the boys.

"If you speak of the Messiah," put in a second.

"Vive Haman!" cried a third.

"And Rashi says, 'The devil brought him here.'" cried a fourth.

"What are you playing? Bank? Then I'll play too," said Getzel, to which he got an immediate reply:

"No, with a little cap."

"Why not?"

"Just for that."

"Then I won't let you play."

He didn't hesitate a moment, but scattered the nuts about the floor with his bear's paws. The boys got angry. The cheek of the rascal!

"Boys, why don't you do something?" asked one.

"What shall we do?" asked a second.

"Lets break his bones for him," suggested a third.

"All right. Try it on," cried Getzel. He turned up his sleeves, ready for work.

And there took place a battle, a fight between the two parties. On the one side was the whole "Cheder," on the other Getzel.

Ten is not one. It was true they felt what Getzel's fists tasted like. Bruises and marks around the eyes were the portion of the ten. But for that, again, they gave him a good taste of the world with their sharp nails and their teeth, and every other thing they could. From the front and from the back and from all sides, he got blows and kicks and pulls and thumps and bites and scratches. Well, ten is not one. They overcame him. Getzel had to get himself off, disappear. And now begins the real story of the nuts.

. . . . .

After he left the "Cheder," bruised and scratched and torn and bleeding, Getzel stood thinking for a while. He clapped his hands on his pockets, and there was heard the rattling of nuts.

"You don't want to play nuts with me, then may the Angel of Death play with you. I want you for ten thousand sacrifices. I can manage. We two will play by ourselves."

That was what Getzel said to himself. The next minute he was off like the wind. He stopped in the middle of the road to say aloud, as if there was some one with him:

"Where to? Where, for instance, shall we go, Getzel?" And at once he answered himself: "There, far outside the town, on the other side of the mill. There we shall be alone, the two of us. No one will disturb us. Let any one attempt to disturb us, and we will break bones, and make an end."

Talking with himself, Getzel felt that he was not alone. He was not one but two; and he felt as strong as two. Let the boys dare to come near him, and he would break them to atoms. He would reduce them to a dust-heap. He enjoyed listening to his own words, and did not stop talking to himself, as if he really had some one beside him.

"Listen to me. How far are we going to go?" he asked himself. And he answered himself almost in a strange voice:

"Well, it all depends on you."

"Perhaps we ought to sit down here and play nuts. Well? What do you say, Getzel?"

"It's all the same to me."

Getzel sat down on the ground, far beyond the town, behind the mill, took out the nuts, counted them, divided them in two equal parts, put one lot in his right-hand pocket, and the other in his left. He took off his cap, and threw into it a few nuts from his right-hand pocket. He said to himself:

"They imagine I can't get on without them. Listen, Getzel, what game are we playing?"

"I don't know. Whatever game you like."

"Then let us play 'odd or even.'"

"I'm quite willing."

He shook his cap.

"Now, guess. Odd or even? Well, speak out," he said to himself. He dug his elbow into his own ribs, and said to himself:

"Even."

"Even did you say? Who'll thrash you? You have lost. Hand over three nuts."

He took three nuts from his left-hand pocket, and put them into the right. Again he shook the cap, and again he asked:

"Odd or even this time?"

"Odd."

"Did you say odd? May you suffer for ever! Hand them over here. You have lost four nuts."

He changed four nuts from his left-hand pocket to the right, shook the cap and said again:

"Well, maybe you'll guess right now. Odd or even?"

"Even."

"Even did you say? May your bones rot! You rascal, hand out here five nuts."

"Isn't it enough that I lose. Why do you curse me?"

"Whose fault is it that you are a fool and that you guess as a blind man guesses a hole? Well, say again—odd or even? This time you must be right."

"Even."

"Even? May you live long! Hand out seven nuts, you fool, and guess again. Odd or even?"

"Even."

"Again even. May you be my father! Good-for-nothing, hand over five more nuts, and guess again. Maybe you will guess right for once. Odd or even? Why are you silent—eh?"

"I have no more nuts."

"It's a lie, you have!"

"As I am a Jew, I haven't."

"Just look in your pocket, like this."

"There isn't even a sign of one."

"None? Lost all the nuts? Well, what good has it done you? Aren't you a fool?"

"Enough! You have won all my nuts, and now you torment me."

"It's good, it's all right. You wanted to win all my nuts, and I have won yours."

Goyetzel was well satisfied that Getzel had lost, whilst he, Goyetzel had won. He felt it was doing him good to win. He felt equal to winning all the nuts in the whole world. "Where are they now, the 'Cheder' boys? I would have got my own back from them. I would not have left them the smallest nut, not even for a cure. They would have died here on the ground in front of me."

Getzel grew angry, fierce. He closed his fists, clenched his teeth, and spoke to himself, just as if there was some one beside him.

"Well, try now. Now that I am not by myself. Now that there are two of us. Well, Getzel, why are you sitting there like a bridegroom? Let's play nuts another little while."

"Nuts? Where have I nuts? Didn't I tell you I haven't a single one?"

"Ah, I forgot that you have no more nuts. Do you know what I would advise you, Getzel?"

"For instance?"

"Have you any money?"

"I have. Well, what of that?"

"Buy nuts from me."

"What do you mean by saying I should buy nuts off you?"

"Fool! Don't you know what buying means? Give me money, and I'll give you nuts. Eh?"

"Well, I agree to that."

He took from his purse a silver coin, bargained about the price, counted a score of nuts from the right-hand pocket to the left, and the play began all over again.

An experienced card-player, the story goes, half an hour before his death called his son—also a gambler—to his bedside, and said to him:

"My child, I am going from this world. We shall never meet again. I know you play cards. You have my nature. You may play as much as you like, only take care not to play yourself out."

These words are almost a law. There is nothing worse in the world than playing yourself out. Experienced people say it deprives a man even of his last shirt. It drives a man to desperate acts. And one cannot hope to rise at the Resurrection after that. So people say. And so it happened with our young man. He worked so long, shaking his cap, "odd or even," taking from one pocket and putting into the other, until his left-hand pocket hadn't a single nut in it.

"Well, why don't you play?"

"I have nothing to play with."

"Again you have no nuts, good-for-nothing!"

"You say I am a good-for-nothing. And I say you are a cheat."

"If you call me a cheat again, I will give you a clout in the jaw."

"Let the Lord put it into your head."

Getzel sat quiet for a few minutes, scraping the ground with his fingers, digging a hole, and muttering a song under his breath. Then he said:

"Dirty thing, let us play nuts."

"Where have I nuts?"

"Haven't you money? I will sell you another ten."

"Money? Where have I money?"

"No money and no nuts? Oh, I can't stand it. Ha! ha! ha!"

The laugh echoed over the whole field, and re-echoed in the distant wood. Getzel was convulsed with laughter.

"What are you laughing at, you Goyetzel you?" he asked himself. And he answered himself in a different voice:

"I am laughing at you, good-for-nothing. Isn't it enough that you lost all my nuts on me? Why did you want to go and lose my money as well? Such a lot of money. You fool of fools! Oh, I can't get over it. Ha! ha! ha!"

"You yourself brought me to it. You wicked one of wicked ones! You scamp! You rascal!"

"Fool of the night! If I were to tell you to cut off your nose, must you do it? You idiot! You animal with the horse's face, you! Ha! ha! ha!"

"Be quiet, at any rate, you Goyetzel, you. And let me not see your forbidding countenance."

And he turned away from himself, sat sulky for a few minutes, scraping the earth with his fingers. He covered the hole he had made, as he sang a little song under his breath.

"Do you know what I will tell you, Getzel?" he said to himself a few minutes later. "Let us forgive one another. Let us be friends. The Lord helped me. It was my luck to win so many nuts—may no evil eye harm them! Why should we not enjoy ourselves? Let's crack a few nuts. I should think they are not bad! Well, what do you say, Getzel?"

"Yes, I also think they ought not to be bad," he answered himself. He thrust a nut into his mouth, a second, a third. Each time, he banged his teeth with his fists. The nut was cracked. He took out a fat kernel, cleaned it round, threw it back in his mouth, and chewed it pleasurably with his strong white teeth. He crunched them as a horse crunches oats. He said to himself:

"Would you also like the kernel of a nut, Getzel? Speak out. Do not be ashamed."

"Why not?"

That was how he answered himself. He stretched out his left hand, but only smacked it with his right.

"Will you have a plague?"

"Let it be a plague."

"Then have two."

And he did not cease from cracking the nuts, and crunching them like a horse. It was not enough that he sat eating and gave none to the other, but he said to him:

"Listen, Getzel, to what I will ask you. How, for example, do you feel while I am eating and you are only looking on?"

"How do I feel? May you have such a year!"

"Ah, I see you've got a temper. Here is a kernel for you."

And Getzel's right hand gave the left a kernel. The right turned upside down. The left hand smacked the right. The left hand smacked the right cheek. Then the right hand smacked the left cheek twice. The left hand caught hold of the right lapel of his coat, and the right hand at once tore off the left lapel, from top to bottom. The left hand pulled the right earlock. The right hand gave the left ear a terrible bang.

"Let go of my earlock, Getzel. Take my advice, and let go of my earlock!"

"A plague!"

"Then you'll have no earlock, Getzel."

"Then you, Goyetzel, will have no ear."

"Oh!"

"Oh! Oh!"

. . . . .

Epilogue

For several minutes our Getzel rolled on the ground. Now he lay right side up, and now he lay left side up. He held his pocketful of nuts with both hands.... One minute Goyetzel was victorious. The next it was Getzel, until he got up from the ground covered with dirt, like a pig. He was torn to pieces, had a bleeding ear, and a torn earlock. He took all the nuts from his pocket, and threw them into the mud of the river, far away, behind the mill. He muttered angrily:

"That's right. It's a good deed."

"Neither you—nor me."