Page 107 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

day. The malach ha-mavis."
"What? What?" Hannah asked.
"That is my daughter's dress you are wearing, Chaya
Abramowicz. My Chaya. I brought it as a present for
her in Lublin."
"Chaya," Hannah said.
"The same name, too. God is good. Your name means
life." His voice broke.
"Life," Hannah repeated.
He nodded, then shook his head, the one following
the other like a single movement. "You are Chaya no
longer, child. Now you are J197241. Remember it."
"I can't remember anything," Hannah saidj puzzled.
"This you must remember, for if you forget it, life is
gone indeed." The tattooing pen burned her flesh, leav-
ing a trail of blue numbers in her arm above the wrist.
J197241. She didn't cry. She wouldn't. It was something
more she just remembered: her promise to Gitl.
When the man finished the number, he reached out
and touched the collar of her dress, smoothing it down
gently. "Live," he whispered. "For my Chaya. For all
our Chayas. Live. And remember."
There was a loud clearing of a throat and Hannah
looked up into the guard's unsmiling face. "Next!" he
said.
Little Tzipporah was next, and Hannah held the child
on her lap, covering her eyes with ice-cold hands and
crooning a song into her, ears. It was a wedding song,
the only song she could come up with, something about
a madness forced upon them. The words didn't matter,

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