his chances of success. For there were certain matters which the poor residents of Rimanov did not wish to discuss with such important men, certain subjects which, indeed, they rarely broached among themselves. Had these people been a bit less timid, a bit more articulate, they might have told the investigators this:
The Rabbi Eliezer was known to have a powerful, pervasive, and, some said, decidedly sinister influence over the thoughts and actions of young men.
Upon his arrival in Rimanov, the rabbi had initially attempted to support himself by giving lessons to boys whose parents could not afford to pay the fees of better-known teachers, but who still wished their sons to have some knowledge of their history, a love for the holy word, and the rudiments of a religious education. The Rabbi Eliezer asked only a penny per lesson; he was aged, obviously experienced and venerable. No one thought to demand the references of a Godsend.
Eliezer’s hut grew steadily more crowded with eager pupils, who seemed to take so much delight in learning that their parents found it easy to overlook the first signs of danger. Mothers noticed that their boys were skipping meals, avoiding their former playmates, and spending their spare time staring out the window; the women clucked their tongues mournfully, and thrilled with secret pride to think that their darlings were simply studying too hard. Fathers searched their memories for basic facts on which to quiz their sons, met with blank stares, and decided that education had probably changed since their day. And the small children who pestered their elder brothers into revealing what they had learned in class were suddenly troubled by recurring nightmares; yet, when they rushed to their parents with grisly tales of demons, trolls and witches, they were merely scolded for letting their imaginations run wild.
Eventually, however, incidents of inexplicable behavior among the rabbi’s students became so frequent that they could no longer be ignored. A respectable widow discovered that her son had written a poem containing terms and sentiments so indecent that the blush stayed on her wrinkled cheeks for two days. A moody youth contracted pneumonia by running out naked on a moonlit night to hurl himself into a snowbank. Three boys attempted to break their mothers’ hearts by embarking on unwholesome diets of fruit and nuts, while four others infuriated their fathers by wearing dirty clothes and causing the neighbors to think that their families could not afford to dress them properly.
Reluctant to admit that education might have damaged their sons, the parents of Eliezer’s pupils hesitated to discuss their suspicions with each other; thus, many private, repetitious family scenes had to be staged until they felt satisfied with their understanding of the old man’s crimes.
At least, the parents sighed with relief, he had not physically or spiritually corrupted their children, nor led them into any sins which might cause their souls to roast in Gehenna. But he had done the next worst thing; he had filled their impressionable young minds with dangerous fancies and unrealistic longings. The citizens of Rimanov had prayed that Eliezer might make scholars of their sons, but he had turned them into dreamers.
One by one, the bewildered students were withdrawn from school, but it was already too late. Eventually, it became apparent that all of the old man’s former pupils were somehow marked for life, set apart from their more predictable and easily contented neighbors. They drifted aimlessly from job to job, remained melancholy and dissatisfied for no reason. At weddings, they seemed to forget the wives they had lived with since their youths, and danced all night with graceful young women. Some had left town, and, every few years, sent back letters with mysterious foreign postmarks. A few even drank.
All this would certainly have helped the worthy delegates understand why the obscure rabbi might