The priest frowned. “You paid back the money already, eh? But what if the boy doesn’t want to go back to you?”
Tzvi arrived breathless and sweaty at Jan’s house. He banged on the door and waited a few agonizing moments until the poritz slowly and lazily drew the door open.
“Yes?”
“I-I have the money!” Tzvi held out the bag filled with Yankel and his wife’s entire life savings.
Jan looked at the bag, a slight smirk at the corner of his mouth. Drawing a deep, theatrical breath of air he reached for the bag and took it from Tzvi’s trembling fingers. Then, he walked over to his table, emptied the bag and began counting the coins. His lips moved as he silently counted.
“You want your son back?” Jan toyed with one of the coins. “I bet you’d like to see him now…”
Create a free account to keep reading.
