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Bruin The Bear And Reynard part 3

With all haste the bear entered the tree with his fore feet forward, and thrust his head into the hole quite over the ears. When the fox saw this, he instantly ran and pulled the wedges out of the tree, so that the bear remained locked fast. Neither flattery nor anger now availed the bear, for his nephew’ had got him in so fast a prison, that it was impossible to free himself by any maneuver.

What profited him his great strength and valor now? They only served to irritate and annoy him; and deprived of all relief, he began to howl and bray, to scratch and tumble, and make such a noise, that Lanfert came running hastily out of the house to see what was the matter. He held a sharp hook in his hand, and while the bear lay tearing and roaring in the tree, the fox cried out in scorn, “He is coming, uncle! I fear you will not like the honey; is it good? Do not eat too much; pleasant things are apt to surfeit, and you will delay your journey back to court. If your belly

Bruin The Bear And Reynard part 2

“Ay!” quoth Bruin; “honeycombs, do you say? Hold you them in such slight respect, nephew? Why, sir, it is food for the greatest emperors in the world. Help me, fair nephew, to some of these honeycombs, and command me while I live; for only a small share I will be your servant everlastingly.” “You are jesting with me, surely, uncle,” replied the fox. “Jest with you!” cried Bruin; “bestrew my heart, then; for I am in such serious good earnest, that for a single lick of the same you shall count me among the most faithful of your kindred.”

“Nay, if you be,” returned Reynard, “I will bring you where ten of you would not be able to eat the whole at a meal. This I do out of friendship, for I wish to have yours in return, which above all things I desire.” “Not ten of us,” cried the bear, “not ten of us! it is impossible; for had I all the honey between Hybla and Portugal, I could eat the whole of it very shortly myself.”

“Then know,

Bruin The Bear And Reynard part 1

Anonymous: about 1230

Nothing is known of the writer of the first version of the celebrated Reynard the Fox. The problem of the origin of the book is complicated, but it is generally agreed that a series of incidents attributed to an Alsatian writer of the late Twelfth Century was the basis of the book as it stands in the version here used.

This was printed in 1498, though it was probably written about 1230. Reynard was soon afterwards translated into nearly every language of Europe. The book, in one form or another, has been a popular favourite among all classes of readers, and has for centuries been rewritten to suit the tastes of each generation.

The present version, translated by Thomas Roscoe, is reprinted from Roscoe`s German Novelists, London, no date. It is Chapter IV of The Pleasant History of Reynard the Fox. The full title of the chapter is How Bruin the Bear Sped with Reynard the Fox, followed by a brief description.

Bruin The B

In the Storm part 4

She was running to the road just beyond the village.

They had surely gone for a walk on the road, where they had been seen several times. She would meet them on the way, or in Jonah`s inn near the big forest.

On the Gentile`s lane, the last one of the village, the dogs in the yards heard her hastening steps upon the drenched earth. Some of them began to bark behind the gates, not caring to venture out into the rain; others were not so lazy and crawled out from under the gates with an angry yelping.

She neither saw nor heard them, however. She only gazed far out over the road, which began at the lane, and ran along.
One dog seized her skirt, which had become heavy with water. She did not heed this, and dragged the animal along for part of the way, until it tired of keeping pace with her in the pelting downpour. So it released her skirt. For a moment it thought of seizing her in some other spot, but at once, with a sullen growl, it set out for its

In the Storm part 3

Then she flew back. On the threshold, however, she paused for a moment. She rolled her eyes heavenward and raised her arms to God.
“May flames devour this house!” came from her in a hoarse voice.

Then she departed, pulling the street door violently and leaving it open. The household stood agape, as if the storm itself had tom into the home. Out of sheer stupefaction the persons forgot to close their mouths.
Out of the clouds poured a drenching rain mixed with hail. The tempest seethed like a cauldron.

This boiling tempest, however, raged in Cheyne`s bosom. Something stormed furiously within her. She no longer felt the ground beneath her. The flood soaked her through and through, but this could not restrain her. It served only to augment her savage mood.

She ran from house to house, wherever she might have expected to come upon her daughter and the “apostate.” She stopped nowhere, uttered never a word, but dashed in and then sped out like

In the Storm part 2

She had gone! And she had warned her daughter, it seemed, not to go out to-day—that on the Sabbath of Repentance, at least, she might remain at home and not run off to that “Apostate,” the former student.

Her aged countenance became as dark as the sky without. And her heart grew as furious as the storm. She gazed about the room as if seeking to vent her rage—strike somebody, break something.

“Oh, may she no longer be a daughter of mine!” escaped in angry
outburst from her storming bosom, and she raised her hand to heaven.

She was not affrighted by the curse that her lips had uttered on this solemn Sabbath. At this moment she could curse and shriek the bitterest words. She could have seized her now by the hair, and slapped her face ruthlessly.

Suddenly she threw a shawl over her head and dashed out of the house.
She would hunt them both out and would visit an evil end upon both of them.

A flash of lightning rent the

In the Storm part 1

David Pinski (1872—1959)

David Pinski was born in Russia, but lived chiefly abroad, first in Germany, later in the United States and in Israel. He was preeminent as a dramatist and writer of stories. An artist of great culture and a finished stylist, he found in the proletariat the subject-matter of many of his plays and stories. His volume of Tales Temptations, was once “censored” by the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice, on what grounds it still remains to be discovered.

In the Storm, which appears in temptations, is one of the most effective and highly finished examples of the Yiddish short story.

Reprinted, in the translation by Isaac Goldberg, from temptations, published by Brentano`s, 1920, by whose permission it is here used.

In the Storm

A pious woman told it to me as a warning to sinners, to the young, to the modems.

Black clouds began to fleck the clear sky. Dense, heavy storm clouds. At fir

The Easter Torch Part 8

Thetrap was ingeniously contrived: a long rope fastened round a block of wood;lengthwise, at the place where the sawn panel had dis-appeared, was aspring-ring which Leiba held open with his left hand, while at the same timehis right hand held the other end taut. At the psychological moment he sprangthe ring, and rapidly seizing the free end of the rope with both hands hepulled the whole arm inside by a supreme effort.

Ina second the operation was complete. It was accompanied by two cries, one ofdespair, the other of triumph: the hand is “pinned to the spot.” Footsteps wereheard retreating rapidly: Gheorghe`s companions were abandoning to Leiba theprey so cleverly caught.

TheJew hurried into the inn, took the lamp and with a decided movement turned upthe wick as high as it would go: the light concealed by the metal receiver rosegay and victorious, restoring definite outlines to the nebulous forms around.

Zibalwent into the passage wit

The Easter Torch Part 7

Ina few moments, this same gimlet would cause the destruction of Leiba and hisdomestic hearth. The two executioners would hold the victim prostrate on theground, and Gheorghe, with heel upon his body, would slowly bore the gimletinto the bone of the living breast as he had done into the dead wood, deeperand deeper, till it reached the heart, silencing its wild beatings and pinningit to the spot.

Leibabroke into a cold sweat; the man was overcome by his own imagination, and sanksoftly to his knees as though life were ebbing from him under the weight ofthis last horror, overwhelmed by the thought that he must abandon now all hopeof saving himself.

“Yes!Pinned to the spot,” he said, despairingly. “Yes! Pinned to the spot.”

Hestayed a moment, staring at the light by the window. For some moments he stoodaghast, as though in some other world, then he repeated with quivering eyelids:

“Yes!Pinned to the spot.”

Prol

The Easter Torch Part 6

Histhroat was parched. He was thirsty. He washed a small glass in a three-leggedtub by the side of the bar and tried to pour some good brandy out of adecanter; but the mouth of the decanter began to clink loudly on the edge ofthe glass. This noise was still more irritating. A second attempt, in spite ofhis effort to conquer his weakness, met with no greater success.

Then,giving up the idea of the glass, he let it fall gently into the water, anddrank several times out of the decanter. After that he pushed the decanter backinto its place; as it touched the shelf it made an alarming clatter. For amoment he waited, appalled by such a catastrophe. Then he took the lamp, andplaced it in the niche of the window which lighted the passage: the door, thepavement, and the wall which ran at right angles to the passage, wereilluminated by almost imperceptible streaks of light.

Heseated himself near the doorway and listened intently.

Fromthe hill came t