My sister and my brother and I would come to be called the children of Israel the Apostate, just as Gutke, my playmate, was called the granddaughter of Yankel the Informer.

The most innocent of us would be cursed and shunned for the sin of our father.
All this I came to understand, not all at once, but by degrees, as I put this and that together, and brought my childish thoughts to order.
I was by no means absorbed in this problem.

I played and danced with the other children as heartily as ever, but I brooded in my window corner when there was nothing else to do.

I had not the slightest impulse to go to my father, charge him with his unorthodox conduct, and demand an explanation of him.

I was quite satisfied that I understood him, and I had not the habit of confidences.