I was old enough to be ashamed of my failures, but I did not have much time to think about them, because my Uncle Solomon took me with him to Vitebsk.
It was not my first visit to that city.

A few years before I had spent some days there, in the care of my father's cousin Rachel, who journeyed periodically to the capital of the province to replenish her stock of spools and combs and like small wares, by the sale of which she was slowly earning her dowry.
On that first occasion, Cousin Rachel, who had developed in business that dual conscience, one for her Jewish neighbors and one for the Gentiles, decided to carry me without a ticket.

I was so small, though of an age to pay half-fare, that it was not difficult.

I remember her simple stratagem from beginning to end.

When we approached the ticket office she whispered to me to stoop a little, and I stooped.