"From early childhood I cherished a love for learning," he began
in a tone which suggested he was not speaking of himself, but of
some great man of the past. "My parents were poor Hebrews; they
exist by buying and selling in a small way; they live like beggars,
you know, in filth. In fact, all the people there are poor and
superstitious; they don't like education, because education, very
naturally, turns a man away from religion. . . . They are fearful
fanatics. . . . Nothing would induce my parents to let me be educated,
and they wanted me to take to trade, too, and to know nothing but
the Talmud. . . . But you will agree, it is not everyone who can
spend his whole life struggling for a crust of bread, wallowing in
filth, and mumbling the Talmud. At times officers and country
gentlemen would put up at papa's inn, and they used to talk a great
deal of things which in those days I had never dreamed of; and, of
course, it was alluring and moved me to envy. I used to cry and
entreat them to send me to school, but they taught me to read Hebrew
and nothing more. Once I found a Russian newspaper, and took it
home with me to make a kite of it. I was beaten for it, though I
couldn't read Russian. Of course, fanaticism is inevitable, for
every people instinctively strives to preserve its nationality, but
I did not know that then and was very indignant. . . ."

Having made such an intellectual observation, Isaac, as he had been,
raised his right eyebrow higher than ever in his satisfaction and
looked at me, as it were, sideways, like a cock at a grain of corn,
with an air as though he would say: "Now at last you see for certain
that I am an intellectual man, don't you?" After saying something
more about fanaticism and his irresistible yearning for enlightenment,
he went on: