Page 69 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

Fayge's father cleared his throat and closed the book
on his lap. "I do not make surprises," he said gruffly.
"Only my children make surprises."
"Then what are those automobiles and trucks doing
in front of our shut?" Fayge asked.
The wagon continued its slow side-to-side pace to-
ward the town, but behind it the villagers grew silent
as one by one they noticed what sat in front of the
synagogue.
Shmuel hurried forward. Putting his hand on the
wagon, close to Fayge's hand but not quite touching it,
he addressed her father formally.
"Reb Boruch, excuse me," Shmuel said, "but do you
know just what it is that lies ahead?"
"I am not a fortune teller nor yet a badchan," Reb
Boruch said.- "It is to God you must address such ques-
tions."
Just then the door of the first car opened and a man
in a black uniform with high black boots stepped out.
He turned and opened the car's back door. Another
man, similarly dressed, unfolded himself from the seat.
The medals on his chest caught the light from the spring
sun, sending undecipherable signals across the market
to them.
Somehow the badchan materialized in front of the
wagon. He pointed to the man with the medals and
cried out, "I see the malach ha-mavis. I see the Angel
of Death."
Hannah felt the breath catch in her throat. Malach
ha-mavis. That was her grandfather's phrase, the one
he had shouted at her when she drew the long number

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