Page 70 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

on her arm. Angel of death. Slowly, carefully, she turned
to Shmuel, afraid to move too quickly, afraid she might
not be quick enough. "Please, Shmuel, what year is it?
Please."
He laughed, but there was little brightness in it. "They
do not have the same year in Lublin?"
"Please."
Fayge put her hand on Hannah's. "Silly child," she
said, her voice curiously hushed, "it is 5701."
"5701? But this can't be the future," Hannah said.
"It doesn't look like the future. You don't have movies
or new cars or . . ." Her voice was hoarse.
"She has been this way ever since she arrived, Fayge,"
Shmuel said, shaking his head. "Sometimes she is lucid,
other times she talks of Rochelles and needles and
snakes." He tapped his finger to his forehead. "It is the
sickness, I think. And the loss of her parents. Now she
talks of the future."
Reb Boruch cleared his throat. "I think the child
means loytn kristlichen luach, according to the Christian
calendar."
"They do not know from the Jewish calendar in Lub-
lin?" Fayge asked.
"1942. It is several days before Passover," the bad-
chan said.
"Before Passover?" Hannah drew in a deep breath.
And then, all of a sudden, she knew. She knew beyond
any doubt where she was. She was not Hannah Stern
of New Rochelle, at least not anymore, though she still
had Hannah's memories. Those memories, at least, might
serve as a warning.

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