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all right,
Mother,” he said. “But as it’s Rosh Hashanah, I was thinking about what I ought
to be doing in the new year.” His mother smiled, still nurturing the hope that
she had produced one child who might become a rabbi. Lubji didn’t speak again
as he considered the problem of the box. He felt no guilt about committing what
his mother would have described as a sin, because he had already convinced
himself that long before the year was up he would return everything, and no one
would be any the wiser.
    That night,
after the rest of the family had climbed onto the mattress, Lubji huddled up in
the corner of the fireplace and pretended to be asleep until he was sure that
everyone else was. He knew that for the six restless, cramped bodies, two heads
at the top, another two at the bottom, with his mother and father at the ends,
sleep was a luxury that rarely lasted more than a few minutes.
    Once Lubji was
confident that no one else was awake, he began to crawl cautiously round the
edge of the room, until he reached the far side of the mattress. His father’s
snoring was so thunderous that Lubji feared that at any moment one of his
brothers or sisters must surely wake and discover him.
    Lubji held his
breath as he ran his fingers across the floorboards, trying to discover which
one would prize open.
    The seconds
turned into minutes, but suddenly one of the planks shifted slightly. By
pressing on one end with the palm of his right hand Lubji was able to ease it
up slowly. He lowered his left hand into the hole, and felt the edge of
something. He gripped it with his fingers, and slowly pulled out the cardboard
box, then lowered the plank back into place.
    Lubji remained
absolutely still until he was certain that no one had witnessed his actions.
One of his younger brothers turned over, and his sisters groaned and followed
suit. Lubji took advantage of the fuddled commotion and scurried back around
the edge of the room, only stopping when he reached the front door.
    He pushed
himself up off his knees, and began to search for the doorknob.
    His sweaty palm
gripped the handle and turned it slowly. The old spindle creaked noisily in a
way he had never noticed before. He stepped outside into the path and placed
the cardboard box on the ground, held his breath and slowly closed the door
behind him.
    Lubji ran away
from the house clutching the little box to his chest. He didn’t look back; but
had he done so, he would have seen his great-uncle staring at him from his
larger house behind the cottage. ‘Just as I feared,” the rabbi muttered to
himself. “He takes after his father’s side of the family.”
    Once Lubji was
out of sight, he stared down into the box for the first time, but even with the
help of the moonlight he was unable to make out its contents properly. He
walked on, still fearful that someone might spot him.
    When he reached the
center of the town, he sat on the steps of a waterless fountain, trembling and
excited. But it was several minutes before he could clearly make out all the
treasures that were secreted in the box.
    There were two
brass buckles, several unmatching buttons, including a large shiny one, and an
old coin which bore the head of the Czar. And there, in the corner of the box,
rested the most desirable prize of all: a small circular silver brooch
surrounded by little stones which sparkled in the early morning sunlight.
    When the clock
on the town hall struck six, Lubji tucked the box under his arm and headed in
the direction of the market. Once he was back among the traders, he sat down
between two of the stalls and removed everything from the box. He then turned it
upside down and set out all the objects on the flat, gray surface, with the
brooch taking pride of place in the center.
    No sooner had he
done this than a man carrying a sack of potatoes over his shoulder stopped and
stared down at his wares.
    “What do you
want for that?” the man asked in Czech, pointing at the large shiny