“Well, in the end I had to give in: I became a fi-who-ciary, that is, the children’s legal guardian, together with her, the widow. And since a fi-who-ciary is what God had made me, the first thing I did was try to determine just what the poor orphans were worth. I went about locating every asset, store, house, horse, cow, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, and converting it all into cash … which was easier said than done, mind you, because Menashe, may he rest in peace, was one well-fixed miser of a Jew! However much people had guessed he was worth, they hadn’t guessed enough by half — and to make matters worse, he hadn’t put down a single thing in writing, because he was, God forgive me, an illiterate. New loans he had made kept turning up all the time. Wherever you looked, you found someone else who owed him money. And of course, you understand, I had to walk around with it all in my head and get every penny that I could for it — what other choice did I have? And I had to do it all by myself too, because she, my fi-who-ciary-ess, was a cow of a housewife who didn’t know left from right — a perfectly nice cow, it so happened, but a cow all the same. She couldn’t have told a good IOU from a bad one if her life depended on it, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera …
“Well, I put together ruble after ruble until there was quite a pile. And having gone to no small trouble to put it together, I next had to think of investing it, because if the family used it to live off, what would become of it? Children, it so happens, need clothing and shoes, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, to say nothing of having to eat — and once you start eating up your capital, you eat your way through it in no time. And then what? A responsible person, you understand, had to put the money to work. And so I began to look around for somewhere to put it. Should I open a store for the family? But who was going to run it when my fi-who-ciary-ess, it so happened, was a cow, and the children were only children?… Should I lend it out at interest? But supposing the borrower went bankrupt — who would be held accountable? The fi-who-ciary!.. Until finally I decided, what more solid business could there be to sink it in than my own? What safer borrower was there than me, eh?… Credit, God be praised, I had everywhere, at every fair in the country, while as for my reputation — it should only be as good all my life! Wasn’t it the best solution by far to put the money into my own store? What better way to guard its value than to keep turning over the stock with it, eh?… And if you buy with cash, you should know, you’re in a different league entirely, because it commands a good premium. Hard cash, you understand, is a rare commodity these days; everyone pays with paper, with notes, a signature here, a signature there, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera …
“Well, I put the money into my business and it wasn’t such a poor idea, because things didn’t go badly, they didn’t go badly at all. My gross, you understand, grew very nicely, since a well-stocked store draws a different type of customer. It’s the bait that makes them bite, as any fisherman will tell you. There was just one little problem: my expenses! They were now double what they used to be, because I was supporting two whole households … My own family, knock wood, was nothing new; but she, the widow, kept needing things too, as did all five of her children, four boys and a girl who weren’t even mine. That was no joking matter! There were clothes to buy, and shoes to buy, and a school for the boys, and a private tutor for the girl, to say nothing of a family outing here and a snack for the kids there, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera — there simply was no way of avoiding it. What would everyone have said? A fine fi-who-ciary he is, taking all the money for himself and not sparing the poor orphans even a kopeck for candy!.. There I was, you understand, slaving away, beating my brains out, on the road all the time buying merchandise, with a ledger full of debts and bad news — and no one could have cared less. She, the widow, never once lent a hand; all she wanted was her half of the income … But after all, you say, it was her money I was using? In the first place, though, her money was tied up in stock; in the second place, I wasn’t just using it, I was planning to pay her good interest; and however you look at it, it wasn’t worth the bother of having it on my mind day and night, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera — if you don’t believe me, go be a fi-who-ciary yourself! Try making it your business how somebody else’s children are doing in school, and whether they are where they should be, and if they aren’t where they shouldn’t be, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera — who did they all think I was, their governess? It’s all you can do these days to look after your own kids, especially if you’ve been blessed with a bad egg. Menashe, may God forgive me, was a simpleton of a Jew, but the very soul of honor; his children, though — Lord have mercy! One was worse than the other … The two older ones, at least, were halfway manageable; the first, who was deaf and a real sad sack, I managed to apprentice to a trade, and the second, though a total idiot, was at least quiet and kept out of people’s hair … The third, on the other hand, was gifted enough as a child, but fell in with a bad crowd when he grew older and turned into such a scoundrel himself that it was best to give him a wide berth. He bothered and badgered and blustered and bedeviled and etcetera-ed me so that I finally gave him a few rubles and packed him off to America, which had been his great dream since he was little; good riddance was all I could say!.. As for the girl, I married her off with nearly a thousand rubles’ dowry, bought her a trousseau, stood her to a fine wedding with a band, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera — I gave her everything a bride could desire, almost as if I were her own father … and what, what other choice did I have, would someone please tell me that? They had no father of their own, she, their mother, was a cow — who was there, if not me, to break his neck for them?… ‘You’re a damn fool!’ my wife kept saying to me. ‘As if you had nothing better to do than sacrifice yourself for someone else’s children! Just wait and see, they’ll thank you like a ton of bricks for being such a fi-who-ciary.’ That’s what she said, and she couldn’t have been more right: a ton of bricks is what I feel I’ve been hit with — why, every brick weighs a ton! Just wait till you hear what I’ve been through. Believe me, I must be made of iron if I can still sit here and tell you about it …
“Well, of all the children Menashe left behind, there was one, the youngest, a boy called Danielchik, who really took the cake; he was the wrath of God in person. From the time he was a tot, he was a terror. At the age of five he thought nothing of beaning his mother with a boot — and on a Sabbath morning before prayers, of all times! — while ripping off her shawl in the presence of strangers was second nature to him. I tell you, she must have had the skin of an elephant to put up with him! Day in and day out we had our hands full with Danielchik. Whenever I dropped by, I found her, the widow, sitting and sobbing her heart out: what ever had she done to deserve such a child? Why couldn’t he have rotted away in the womb instead of having to be born? The things that Danielchik did to her defied all description. He stole whatever he could get his hands on: her jewelry, her rings, her earrings, her pearl necklace, her silk kerchief, her lamps, her kitchen knives, an old pair of eyeglasses, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera — everything was fair game; he swiped it all and sold it to buy candy, or nuts, or watermelons, or expensive tobacco for himself and his friends. You can imagine the sort of friends they were! Thieves, drunks, hoodlums — the Devil only knows where he found them. He gave away everything he owned to them: his new boots, his best cap, the shirt off his back … ‘Danielchik,’ you’d ask him, ‘what’s wrong with you? How can you just go and give away a brand-new pair of boots?’ ‘Screw them!’ he would say. ‘Have a heart, the poor guy was going barefoot …’ A big-hearted little fellow, no? And I’m not even talking about money; every cent he got hold of, he simply passed on to that gang of his. ‘Danielchik, for God’s sake, what are you doing?’ ‘Screw it! The guy’s human too, he’s got to eat just like you do …’ Quite the little philanthropist, eh? There was nothing halfway about him, he was a one-hundred-percent pure freak of nature! Don’t think he was stupid, though, or some kind of ugly duckling. Far from it; he was a clever, handsome, healthy, high-spirited boy, a talented singer and dancer — he just happened to be a thoroughbred hell-pup … What didn’t we try with him? We tried the carrot — and the stick: we locked him in his room for three days and three nights, we thrashed him with a cat-o’-nine-tails, we even broke a good bamboo cane over him that I had paid three whole rubles for … it was all spitting into the wind! I tried apprenticing him to every kind of tradesman, making a watchmaker, a goldsmith, a carpenter, a musician, an ironsmith, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, out of him — not a chance! You could cut him in two with a carving knife before he’d do a stitch of work. ‘But what will you be when you grow up, Danielchik?’ you’d ask. ‘A free bird,’ he would say with a laugh. ‘A free bird? A jailbird is more like it!’ ‘Screw it!’ he would say — and before you could open your mouth again, he was gone.