the more i argued with him, the better i came to know his dialectic. first he counted on the stupidity of his adversary, and then, when there was no other way out, he himself simply played stupid. if all this didn't help, he pretended not to understand, or, if challenged, he changed the subject in a hurry, quoted platitudes which, if you accepted them, he immediately related to entirely different matters, and then, if again attacked, gave ground and pretended not to know exactly what you were talking about. whenever you tried to attack the jew, your hand closed on a jelly-like slime which divided up and poured through your fingers, but in the next moment collected again. but if you really struck him so telling a blow that, observed by the audience, he couldn't help but agree, and if you believed that this had taken you at least one step forward, your amazement was great the next thread. the jew had not the slightest recollection of the thread before, he rattled off his same old nonsense as though nothing at all had happened, and, if indignantly challenged, affected amazement; he couldn't remember a thing, except that he had proved the correctness of his assertions the previous day. sometimes i stood there thunderstruck. i didn't know what to be more amazed at: the agility of his tongues or his virtuosity at lying. gradually i began to hate him.
Germany