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 respective compartments.) That fortune-teller was certainly right, I tell you. She certainly was right! . . . (''She disappears. For a moment the stage is empty and in darkness.'')

, ''comes running wildly from her room, with a hysterical outcry. She is in night clothes.''

What's the matter, Basha?

I'm afraid to go to sleep. I feel that the ghost of my mother, with her thorns and her briers, is hovering about my room.

The Holy Scroll in the room above has been defiled. We have no one to shield us now!

I'm afraid this is going to be a terrible night. My heart's thumping. (Suddenly, from above, a din is heard. There is a scraping of chairs and tables. The girls, eyes distended with fear, listen intently. Soon there is the sound of something heavy falling down the outside stairs.)

Rifkele, Rifkele! Where are you?

Let's lie down in our beds and pretend we're