 Section 41 of Yiddish Tales. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Yiddish Tales translated by Helena Frank and read by Adrian Pretzelis. Section 41. Maya Blinken. Born 1879 in a village near Perioslav, government of Paltava, little Russia, of Hasidic parentage. Educated in Kiev, where he acquired the trade of carpenter in order to win the right of residence. Studied medicine. Began to write in 1906. Came to New York in 1908. Writer of stories to the number of about fifty, which have been published in various periodicals. Wrote also Der Sod and Dr. Makova. Women. A prose poem by Maya Blinken. Hedged round with tall thick woods, as though designedly, so that no one should know what happens there, lies the long drawn out old town of Perioslav. To the right, connected with Perioslav by a wooden bridge, lies another bit of country named Pidvorkas. The town itself, with its long narrow muddy streets, with the crowded houses propped up at one against the other like tombstones, with their meagre grey walls all to pieces, with the broken window-panes stuffed with rags. Well, the town of Perioslav was hardly to be distinguished from any other town inhabited by Jews. Here, too, people faded before they bloomed. Here, too, people lived on miracles, were fruitful and multiplied out of all season and reason. They talked of a livelihood, of good times, of riches and pleasures, with the same appearance of firm conviction, and at the same time the utter disbelief, with which one tells a legend read in a book. And they really supposed these terms to be mere inventions of the writers of books and nothing more. For not only were they incapable of a distinct conception of their real meaning, but some had even given up the very hope of ever being able to earn so much as a living and preferred not to reach out into the world with their thoughts, straining them for nothing, that is, for the sake of a thing so plainly out of the question as a competence. At night the whole town was overspread by a sky which, if not grey with clouds, was of a troubled and washed out blue. But the people were better off than by day. Tired out, overwrought, exhausted, prematurely aged as they were, they sought and found comfort in the lap of the dreamy, secret, inscrutable night. Their misery was left far behind, and they felt no more grief and pain. An unknown power hid everything from them as though with a thick, damp stone wall, and they heard and saw nothing. They did not hear the weak voices like the mewing of blind kittens of their pining children begging all day for food, as though on purpose, as though they knew there was none to give them. They did not hear the sighs and groans of their friends and neighbours filling the air with a hoarse sound of furniture dragged across the floor. They did not see, in sleep, death from hunger, swing, quivering, on threads of spider web, above their heads. Even the little fires that flickered feverishly on their hearts and testified to the continued existence of breathing men, even these they saw no longer. Silence cradled everything to sleep, extinguished it and caused it to be forgotten. Hardly, however, was it dawn, hardly had the first rays pierced beneath the closed eyelids before a whole world of misery awoke and came to life again. The frantic cries of hundreds of starving children, despairing exclamations and imprecations, and other piteous sounds filled the air. One gigantic curse uncoiled and crept from house to house, from door to door from mouth to mouth, and the population began to move, to bestow themselves, to run hither and thither, half naked. With parched bones and shriveled skin, with sunken yet burning eyes, they crawled over one another like worms in a heap. Fastened on to the bites in each other's mouths and tore them away. But this is summer, and they are feeling comparatively cheerful, bold and free in their movements. They are stifled and suffocated. They are in a melting pot with heat and exhaustion, but there are counterbalancing advantages. One can live for weeks at a time without heating the stove. Indeed, it is pleasanter indoors without fire, and lighting will cost very little, now the evenings are short. In winter it was different, an inclement sky, an enfeebled sun, a sick day and a burning, biting frost. People too were different. A bitterness came over them, and they went about anxious and irritable, with hanging head, possessed by gloomy despair. It never even occurred to them to tear their neighbours bite out of his mouth, so depressed and preoccupied did they become. The days were months, the evenings years, and the weeks were eternities. And no one knew of their misery, but the winter wind that tore at their roofs, and howled in their all but smokeless chimneys like one bewitched, like a lost soul condemned to endless wandering. But there were bright stars in the abysmal darkness. Their one pride and consolation were the Pidvokas, the inhabitants of the aforementioned district of that name. Was it a question of the upkeep of a reader, or of a mikva, the support of a burial society, of a little hospital or refuge, a rabbi, of providing Sabbath loaves for the poor, flour for the Passover, the dowry of a kneaded bride? The Pidvokas were ready. The sick and lazy, the poverty-stricken and hopeless, found in them support and protection. The Pidvokas. They were an inexhaustible well that no one had ever found to fail them, unless the Pidvoka husbands happened to be present, on which occasion alone one came away with empty hands. The fair fame of the Pidvokas extended beyond Periyslav to all poor towns in the neighbourhood. Talk of husbands? They knew about the Pidvokas a hundred miles around. The least thing, and they pointed out to their wives how they should take a lesson from the Pidvoka women, and they would be equally rich and happy. It was not because the Pidvokas had within their border great green velvety hills and large gardens full of flowers that they had reason to be proud, or others to be proud of them, not because wide fields planted with various kinds of corn stretched for miles around them, the delicate ears swaying in sunshine and wind, not even because their flowed round the Pidvokas a river so transparent, so full of the reflection of the sky, you could not decide which was the bluest of the two. Periyslav at any rate was not affected by any of these things. Perhaps knew nothing of them, and certainly did not wish to know anything, for whoso dares to let his mind dwell on the like sins against God. Is it a Jewish concern? A town full of men who have a God and religious duties to perform with reward and punishment, who have that world to prepare for, and a wife and children in this one? People must be mad of the enemies of Tion may it be said to stare at the sky, the fields, the river, and all the rest of it, things which a man on in years ought to blush to talk about. No, they are proud of the Pidvoka women and parade them continually. The Pidvoka women are no more attractive, no taller, no cleverer than others. They too bear children and suckle them, one a year after the good old custom. Neither are they more thought of by their husbands. On the contrary, they are the best abused and tormented women going, and herein lies their distinction. They put up, with the indifference of all women alike, to the belittling to which they are subjected by their husbands. They swallow their contempt by their mouthful without a reproach, and yet they are exceptions, and yet they are distinguished from all other women as the rushing waters of the Dnieper from the stagnant pools and the marsh. About five in the morning, when the menfolk turn in bed and bury their faces in the white feather pillows, emitting at the same time strange broken sounds through their big stupid red noses. At this early hour their wives have transacted half a day's business in the marketplace. Dressed in short light skirts with blue aprons over which depends on their left a large leather pocket for the receiving of coin and the giving out of change, one cannot be running every minute to the cash box. They stand in their shops with miscellaneous wear and toil hard. They weigh and measure, buy and sell, and all this with wonderful celerity. There stands one of them by herself in a shop, and tries to persuade a young barefoot peasant woman to buy the printed cotton she offers her, although the customer only wants a red cotton with a large flowery pattern. She talks without a pause, declaring that the young peasant may depend upon her that she would not take her in for the world, and indeed to no one else would she sell the article so cheap. But soon her eye catches two other women pursuing a peasant man, and before even making out whether he has any wares with him or not, she leaves her customer and joins them. If they run she feels so must she. The peasant is sure to be wanting grease or salt, and that may mean ten copex unexpected gain. Meantime she is not likely to lose her present customer, fascinated as the latter must be by her flow of speech. So she leaves her and runs after the peasant, who is already surrounded by a score of women shrieking one louder than the other, praising their wares to the skies, and each trying to make him believe that he and she are old acquaintances. But presently the tumult increases and there is a cry, Cheap fouls! Who wants cheap fouls? Some rich landholder her sent out a supply of fouls to sell, and all the women swing round towards the fouls, keeping a hold of the peasant's cart with their left hand, so that you would think they wanted to drag peasant, horse and cart along with them. They bargain for a few minutes with the seller of fouls, and advise him not to be obstinate and to take their offers, else he will regret it later. Suddenly a voice thunders, the peasants are coming, and they throw themselves as for dear life upon the cartloads of produce. They run as though to a conflagration, get under each other's feet, their eyes glisten as though they each wanted to pull the whole market aside. There is a shrieking and a scolding until one or another gets the better of all the rest and secures the peasants' wares. Then only does each woman remember that she has customers waiting in her shop, and she runs in with a beaming smile and tells them that, as they have waited so long, they shall be served with the best and the most beautiful of her store. By eight o'clock in the morning, when the market is over, when they have filled all the bottles left with them by their customers, counted up the change and their gains, and each one has slipped a coin into her knotted handkerchief so that her husband should not know of its existence, one simply must, one is only human, one is surely not expected to wrangle with him about every farthing. Then, when there is nothing more to be done in the shops, they began to gather in knots, and every one tells at length the incidents and the happy strokes of business of the day. They have forgotten all the bad luck they wished each other, all the abuse they exchanged while the market was in progress. They know that Parnasa is Parnasa, a living is a living, and bear no malice, or if they do, it is only if one has spoken unkindly of another during a period of quiet on a Sabbath or a holiday. Each talks with a special enthusiasm, and deep in her sunken eyes with their blue-black rings their burns are proud of their tiny fire as she recalls how she got the better of a customer and sold something which she had all but thrown away, and not only sold it but better than usual, or else they tell how late their husbands sleep and then imagine their wives are still in bed and set about waking them. It's time to get up for market, and they at once pretend to be sleepy, then when they have already been and come back. And very soon a voice is heard to tremble with pleasant excitement, and the woman begins to relate the following. Just you listen to me. I was up to day when God himself was still asleep. That is not the way to talk, Shani, interrupts a second. Well, well, well, there's a good deal of curiosity. And what happened? It was this way. I went out quietly so that no one should hear not to wake them, because when laser went to bed it was certainly one o'clock. There was a dispute of some sort at the rabbis. You can imagine how early it was, because I didn't even want to wake Sora. Otherwise she always gets up when I do. Never mind, it won't hurt her to learn from her mother. And at half-past seven when I saw there were no more peasants coming into market I went to see what was going on indoors. I heard my man calling me to wake up. Shana, Shana, Shana. And I go quietly and lean against the bed and wait to hear what will happen next. Look here, there is no waking her. Shana, it is getting up time and past. Are you deaf or half-witted? What's come to you this morning? I was so afraid I should laugh. I gave a jump and called out, Oh, woe is me. Why ever didn't you wake me sooner? Bandit, it's already eight o'clock. Her hearers go off into contented laughter which grows clearer, softer and more contented still. Each one tells her tale of how she was waken by her husband and one tells this joke. Once when her husband had called to rouse her he also usually woke her after-market. She answered that on that morning she did not intend to get up for market that he might go for once instead. This apparently pleases them still better for their laughter renews itself more spontaneous and hearty than even before. Each makes a witty remark. Each feels herself in the merry mood and all is cheerfulness. They would wax a little more serious only when they come to talk of their daughters. A woman would begin by trying to recall her daughter's age and beg a second one to help her remember when the girl was born so that she might not make a mistake in the calculation. And when it came to one that had a daughter of sixteen the mother fell into a brown study. She felt herself in a very, very critical position because when a girl comes to that age one ought soon to marry her and there is really nothing to prevent it. Money enough will be forthcoming only let the right kind of suitor present himself one that is who shall insist upon a well-doward bride because otherwise what sort of a suitor do you call that? She will have enough to live on they will buy a shop for her and she is quite capable of managing it only heaven send a young man of acceptable parentage so that one's husband shall have no need to blush with shame when he is asked about his son-in-law's family and connections. And this is really what they used to do when their daughters were sixteen they gave them in marriage and at twenty the daughters were old much-experienced wives they knew all about teething, chickenpox, measles and much more besides even about croop if a young mother's child fell ill she hastened to her bosom crony who knew a lot more than she having been married one whole year or two sooner and got advice as to what should be done the other would make close inquiry whether the round swellings about the child's neck increased in size and wandered that is appeared at different times and different places in which case it was positively nothing serious but only the tonsils but if they remained in one place and grew larger the mother must lose no time but must run to the doctor their daughters knew that they needed to lay by money not only for a dowry but because a girl ought to have money of her own they knew as well as their mothers that a bridegroom would present himself and ask a lot of money the best sign for his being of the right sort and they prayed God for the same without ceasing no sooner were they quit of household matters than they went over to the discussion of their connections and alliances it was the greatest pleasure they had the fact that their children especially their daughters were so discreet that no one to speak in a good hour and to be silent in a bad had as yet ever far bit from the speaker to think of such a thing a given birth to a bastard as was known to happen in other places this was the crowning point of their joy and exultation it even made up to them for the fact that they never got a good word from their husbands for their hard unnatural toil and as they chat together throwing in the remark that the apple never falls far from the tree that their daughters take after them in everything the very wrinkles vanish from their shriveled faces a spring of refreshment and blessedness wells up in their hearts they are lifted above their cares a feeling of relaxation comes over them as though a soothing balsam had penetrated their strained and weary limbs meanwhile the daughters have secrets among themselves they know a quantity of interesting things that have happened in their quarter but no one else gets to know of them they are imparted more with the eyes than with the lips and all is quiet and confidential and if the great calamity had not now befallen the pedfalkers had it not stretched itself spread its claws with such an evil might had the shame not been so deep and dreadful all might have passed off quietly as always but the event was so extraordinary so cruelly unique such a thing had not happened since girls were girls and bridegrooms, bridegrooms it inevitably became known to all not preserve us to the men they know of nothing and need to know of nothing only to the women but how much can anyone keep to oneself it will rise to the surface and lie like oil on the water from early morning on the women have been hissing and steaming bubbling and boiling over they are not thinking of Parnosa they have forgotten all about Parnosa they are in such a state they have even forgotten about themselves there is a whole crowd of them packed like herrings and all fire and flame but the male passes by hear nothing of what they say he only sees the troubled faces and the drooping heads they are ashamed to look into one another's eyes as though they themselves were responsible for the great affliction an appalling misfortune an overwhelming sense of shame a yellow black spot on their reputation weighs them to the ground uncleanness has forced itself into their sanctuary and defiled it and now they seek a remedy and means to save themselves like one drowning they want to heal the plague spot to cover it up so that no one shall find it out they stand and think and wrinkle the brows so used to anxiety their thoughts evolve rapidly and yet no good results come of it no one sees a way of escape out of the terrifying net in which the worst of all evil has entangled them should a stranger happen to come upon them now one who has heard of them but never seen them he would receive a shock the whole of pidwalkers looks quite different the women, the streets the very sun shines differently with pale and narrow beams which instead of cheering seems to burden the heart the little grey-cold clouds with their ragged edges which have collected somewhere unbeknown and race across the sky look down upon the women and whisper among themselves even the old willows for whom the news is no novelty for many more and more complicated mysteries have come to their knowledge even they look sad while the swallows are depressed and gloomy air with which they skim the water plainly express their opinion which is no other than this God is punishing the pidwalkers for their great sin what time they carried fire in their beaks long ago to destroy the temple God bears long with people's iniquity but he rewards in full at the last the peasants driving slowly to market un molested and unobstructed neither dragged aside nor laid forcible hold of were singularly disappointed they began to think the Jews had left the place and the women actually forgot for very trouble that it was market day they stood with hands folded and turned feverishly to every newcomer what does she say of it perhaps she can think of something to advise no one answered they could not speak they had nothing to say they only felt that a great wrath had been poured out on them heavy as lead that an evil spirit had made its way into their life and was keeping them in a perpetual state of terror and that were they now to hold their peace and not make an end God almighty only knows what might come of it no one felt certain that tomorrow or the day after the same thunderbolt might not fall on another of them somebody made a movement in the crowd and there was a sudden silence so all were preparing to listen to a weak voice hardly louder than stillness itself their eyes widened their faces were contracted with annoyance and a consciousness of insult their hearts beat faster but without violence suddenly there was a shock a thrill and they looked round with started gaze to see whence it came what was happening and they saw a woman forcing her way frantically through the crowd her hands working her lips moving as in fever her eyes flashing fire and her voice shaking as she cried come on and see me settle them first I shall thrash him and then I shall go for her we must make a cinderheap of them that's all we can do she was a tall bony woman with broad shoulders who had earned for herself the nickname Cossack by having with her own hands beaten off three peasants who wanted to strangle her husband he, they declared, having sold them by false weight it was the first time he had ever tried to be of use to her don't shout so, Brindle begged a woman's voice what do you mean don't shout? am I going to hold my tongue? never you mind I shall take no water into my mouth I'll teach them the apostates to desecrate the whole town but don't shout so beg several more Brindle takes no notice she clenches her right fist and fighting the air with it she vociferates louder than ever what has happened women? what are you frightened of? look at them as if they are not at all a little afraid that's what brings trouble don't let us be frightened and we shall spare ourselves in the future we shall not be in terror that tomorrow or the day after they had best not lived to hear of it, sweet father in heaven another of us should have this come upon her Brindle's last words made a great impression the women started as though someone had poured cold water over them without warning a few even began to come forward in support of Brindle's proposal Sorra Lea said she advised going but only to him, the bridegroom and telling him not to give people occasion to laugh and not to cause distress to her parents and to agree to the weddings taking place today or tomorrow before anything happened and to keep quiet I say he shall not live to see it he shall not be counted worthy to have us come begging favours of him cried an angry voice but hereupon rose that of a young woman from somewhere in the crowd and all the others began to look round and no one knew who was speaking at first the young voice shook then it grew firmer and firmer so that one could hear clearly and distinctly what was said you might as well spare yourselves the trouble of talking about a thrashing it's all nonsense besides why add to her parents grief by going to them isn't it bad enough for them already if we really want to do something the best would be to say nothing to anybody not to get excited not to ask anybody's help and let's make up a collection out of our own pockets never mind God will repay us twice what we give let us choose out two of us to take him the money quietly so that no one shall know because once a whisper of it gets abroad it will be carried over seven seas in no time you know that walls have ears and streets eyes the women had been holding their breath and looking with pleasurable pride at young Malkala married only two months ago and already so clever the thick wall of dread and shame against which they had beaten their heads had retreated before Malkala's soft words they felt eased the world grew lighter again everyone felt envious in her heart of hearts of her to whose apt and golden speech they had just listened everyone regretted that such an excellent plan had not occurred to herself but they soon calmed down for after all it was a sister who had spoken one of their own pidwalkers they had never thought that Malkala though she had been considered clever as a girl would take part in their debate and they began to work out a plan for getting together the necessary money only quietly so that not a cock should crow and now their perplexities began not one of them could give such a great sum and even if they all clubbed together it would still be impossible they could manage one hundred, two hundred three hundred roubles but the dowry was six hundred and now he says that unless they give one thousand he will break off the engagement what says he? there will be a summons out against him very likely he will just risk it the question went round who kept a store in a knotted handkerchief hidden from her husband they each had such a store but were all the contents put together the half of the sum would not be attained not by a long way and again there arose a tempest a great confusion of women's tongues part of the crowd started with fiery eloquence to criticise their husbands the good for nothings the slouching lazybones they proved that as their husbands did nothing to earn money but spent all their time learning there was no need to be afraid of them and if once in a way they wanted something for themselves no one had the right to say them nay others said that the husbands were after all the elder one must and should ask their advice they were wiser and new best and why should they the women might the words not be reckoned as a sin be wiser than the rest of the world put together and others again cried that there was no need that they should divorce their husbands because a girl was with child and the bridegroom demanded the dowry twice over the noise increased till there was no distinguishing one voice from another till one could not make out what her neighbour was saying she only knew that she also must shriek, scold and speak her mind and who knows what would have come of it if Bryndle Cossack with her powerful gab had not began to shout that she and Malkala had a good idea which would please everyone very much and put an end to the whole dispute all became suddenly dumb there was a tense silence as at the first of the two recitals of the Shimona Esrae the women only cast inquiring looks at Malkala and Bryndle who both felt their cheeks hot Bryndle who ever since the wise Malkala had spoken such golden words had not left her side now stepped forward and her voice trembled with emotion and pleasant excitement as she said Malkala and I think like this that we ought to go to Khavala she being so wise and so well educated a doctor's wife and tell her the whole story from beginning to end so that she may advise us and if you are ashamed to speak to her yourselves you should leave it to us too only on the condition that you go with us don't be frightened she is kind she will listen to us a faint smile glistening like diamond dust shone on all faces their eyes brightened and their shoulders straightened as though just released from a heavy burden they all knew Khavala for a good and gracious woman who was certain to give them some advice she did many such kindnesses without being asked she started the school and she taught their children for nothing she always accompanied her husband on his visit to the sick room and often left a coin of her own money behind to buy a fowl for the invalid it was even said that she had written about them in the newspapers she was very fond of them when she talked with them her manner was simple as though they were her equals and she would ask them all about everything like any plain Jewish housewife and yet they were conscious of a greater distance between them and Khava they would have liked Khava to hear nothing of them but that what was good to stand justified in her eyes as ten times lahavdil in those of a Christian they could not have told why but the feeling was there they are proud of Khava it is an honour for them each and all and who are they that they should venture to pretend to it to possess such a Khava who was highly spoken of even by rich Gentiles hence this embarrassed smile at the mention of her name she would certainly advise but at the same time they avoided each other's looks the wise Malka had the same feeling and she was able to cheer the rest never mind it doesn't matter telling her she is a Jewish daughter too and will keep it to herself these things happen behind the high windows also whereupon they all breathed more freely and went up the hill to Khava they went in series ranks like soldiers shoulder to shoulder relief and satisfaction reflected in their faces all who met them made way for them stood aside and wondered what it meant some of their own husbands even stood and looked at the marching women but not one dared to go up to them and ask what was doing their object drew dearer to them at every step a settled resolve and a deep sense of goodwill to mankind urged them on they all felt that they were going in a good cause and would thereby bar the road to all such occurrences in the future the way to Khava was long she lived quite outside the Pidvokas and they had to go through the whole marketplace with the shops which stood close to one another as though they held each other by the hand and then only through narrow lanes of old thatched peasant huts with shy little window panes but beside nearly every hut stood a couple of acacia trees and the foaming white blossoms among the green leaves gave a refreshing perfume to the neighbourhood emerging from the streets they proceeded toward a pretty hill planted with pink flowering quince trees a small clear stream flowed below it to the left so deceptively clear that it reflected the hillside in all its natural tints you had to go quite close in order to make sure it was only a delusion when the stream met your gaze as seriously as though there were no question of it at all on the top of the hill stood Khava's house adorned like a bride covered with creepers and quinces and with two large lamps under white glass shades upheld in the right hands of two statues carved in white marble the distance had not wearied them they had walked and conversed pleasantly by the way each telling a story somewhat similar to the one that had occasioned their present undertaking do you know? began Shifra the wholesale dealer mine tried to play me a trick with the dowry too it was immediately before the ceremony and he insisted obstinately that unless a silver box and fifty roubles were given to him in addition to what had been promised to him he would not go under the marriage canopy well if it hadn't been Zora it would have been Chaim Tritle observed one ironically they all laughed about rather weakly just for the sake of laughing not one of them really wished apart from her husband even in cases where he disliked her and they quarreled no indignity they suffered at their husband's hands could hurt them so deeply as a wish on his part to live separately after all they are man and wife they quarrel and make it up again and when they spied Chavala's house in the distance they all cried out joyfully with one accord there is Chavala's house once more they forgot about themselves they were filled with enthusiasm for the common cause and with a pain that will lie forever at their heart should they not do all that sinful man is able the wise Malkala's heart beat faster than any one's she had begun to consider how she should speak to Chavala and although apt incisive phrases came into her head one after another she felt that she would never be able to come out with them in Chavala's presence where not for the other women's being there she would have felt at her ease all of a sudden the voice exclaimed joyfully there we are at the house they lifted their heads and their eyes were gladdened by the sight of the tall flowers arranged about a round table in the shelter of a widely branching willow on which there shone a silver samovar in and out of the still empty teaglasses there stole beams of the sinking sun and it dropped lower and lower behind the now dark blue hill what welcome guests Chava met them with a sweet smile and her eyes awoke answering love and confidence in the women's hearts not a glance not a movement betrayed surprise on Chavala's part any more than if she had been expecting them every one they felt that she was behaving like any sage and were filled with a sense of guilt towards her Chavala excused herself to one or two other guests who were present and led the women into her summer parlor for she had evidently understood that what they had come to say was for her ears only they wanted to explain it at once but they couldn't and the two who have all found it hardest to speak were the selected spokeswomen Bryndall Cossack and Malkala the Wise Chavala herself tried to lead them out of their embarrassment you evidently have something important to tell me she said for otherwise one does not get a sight of you and now it seemed more difficult than ever it seemed impossible ever to tell the angelic Chavala of the bad action about which they had come they all wished silently that their children might turn out one tenth as good as she was and their impulse was to take Chavala into their arms kiss her and hug her and cry a long, long time on her shoulder and if she cried with them it would be so comforting Chavala was silent her great wide open blue eyes grew more and more compassionate as she gazed at the faces of her sisters it seemed as though they were reading for themselves the sorrowful secret the women had come to impart and the more they were impressed with her tactful behaviour and the more they felt the kindness of her gaze the more annoyed they grew with themselves the more tongue-tied they became the silence was so intense as to be almost seen and felt the women held their breath and only exchanged roundabout glances to find out what was going on in each other's mind and they looked first of all at the two who had undertaken to speak while the latter, although they did not see this felt as though everyone's gaze was fixed upon them wondering why they were silent and holding all hearts by a thread Chavala raised her head and spoke sweetly Well, dear sisters, tell me a little of what it is about do you want my help in any matter? I should be so glad Dear sisters, she called them and lightning-like it flashed through their hearts that Chavala was indeed their sister How could they feel otherwise when they had it from Chavala herself? Was she not one of their own people? Had she not the same God? True, her speech was a little strange to them and she was not overpious But how should God be angry with such a Chavala as this? If it must be, let him punish them for her sin they would willingly suffer in her place The sun had long set, the sky was grey save for one red streak and the room had grown dark Chavala rose to light the candles and the women started and wiped their tearful eyes so that Chavala should not remark them Chavala saw the difficulty they had in opening their hearts to her and she began to speak to them of different things offered them refreshment according to their several tastes and now Chavala felt a little more courageous and managed to say No, good, kind Chavala, we are not hungry we have come to consult with you on a very important matter and then Bryndle tried hard to speak in a soft voice but it sounded gruff and rasping First of all Chava, we want you to speak to us in Yiddish not in Polish we are all Jewish women, thank God, together Chavala, who had nodded her head during the whole of Bryndle's speech made another motion of ascent with her silk and eyebrows and replied I will talk Yiddish to you with pleasure if that is what you prefer The thing is this Chavala began Shifra, the wholesale dealer It did a shame and a sorrow to tell but when the thunderbolt has fallen one must speak You know Rokha Esther's lair? She is engaged and the wedding was to be in eight weeks and now she the good for nothing is with child and he, the son of perdition, says now that if he isn't given more than five hundred rubles he won't take her Chavala was deeply troubled by their words She saw how great was their distress and found to her regret that she had little to say by way of consolation I feel with you, she said, in your pain but do not be so dismayed It is certainly very bad news but these things will happen You are not the first She wanted to say more but did not know how to continue But what are we to do? asked several voices at once That is what we came to you for, dearie, for you to advise us Are we to give him all the money, he asks? Or shall they both know as much happiness as we know? What to do else? Or are we to hang a stone round our necks and drown ourselves for shame? Give us some advice, dear, help us Then Chavala understood that it was not so much the women who were speaking and imploring as their stricken hearts their deep shame and grief and it was with increased sympathy that she answered them What can I say to help you, dear sisters? You have certainly not deserved this below You have enough to bear as it is Things ought to have turned out quite differently But now that the misfortune has happened one must be brave enough not to lose one's head and not to let such a thing happen again so that it should be the first and last time But what exactly you should do I cannot tell you because I do not know Only if you should want my help or any money I will give you either with the greatest pleasure They understood each other The women parted with Chava in great gladness and turned towards home conscious of a definite purpose Now they all felt they knew just what to do and were sure it would prevent all further misfortune and disgrace They could have sung out for joy embraced the hill, the stream, the peasant hut and kissed and funneled them all together Mind you, they had even now no definite plan of action It was just Chavala's sympathy that had made all the difference feeling that Chava was with them Wrapped in the evening mist they stepped vigorously and cheerily homewards Gradually the speed and the noise of their march increased The air throbbed and at last a high, sharp voice rose above the rest whereupon they grew stiller and the women listened I tell you what? We won't beat them Only on Sabbath we must all come together like one man break into the Bessamadres just before they call up to the reading of the law and not let them read till they have sworn to agree to our sentence of excommunication She is right excommunicate him, tear him to pieces let him be dressed in robe and talus and swear by the eight black candles that he swear, swear The noise was dreadful No one was allowed to finish speaking They were all aflame with one fire of revenge, hate and anger and all alike a thirst for justice Every new idea, every new suggestion was hastily and hotly seized upon altogether and there was a grinding of teeth and a clenching of fists Nature herself seemed affected by the tumult The clouds flew faster The stars changed their places The wind whistled The trees swayed hither and thither The frogs croaked and there was a great boiling up of the whole concern Women, women, cried one I propose that we go to the court of the shawl Climb into the round millstones and all shout together so that they may know what we have decided Right, right, to the shawl cried a chorus of voices A common feeling of triumph running through them They took each other friendly wise by the hand and made gaily for the court of the shawl When they got into the town they fell upon each other's necks and kissed each other with tears and joy They knew their plan was the best and the most excellent that could be devised and would protect them from all further shame and trouble The Pidvokas shuddered to hear their tread All the remaining inhabitants, big and little men and women gathered in the court of the shawl and stood with pale faces and beating hearts to see what would happen The eyes of the young bachelors rolled uneasily The girls had their faces on one another's shoulders and sobbed Brindle, agile as a cat climbed on the highest millstone and proclaimed in a voice of thunder Seeing that such and such a thing has happened a great scandal such as is not to be hid and such as we do not wish to hide all we women have decided to excommunicate Such a tumult arose that for a minute or two Brindle could not be heard but it was not long before everyone knew who and what was meant We also demand that neither he nor his nearest friends shall be called to the reading of the law that people shall have nothing to do with them till after the wedding Nothing to do with them, nothing to do with them shook the air that people shall not lend to them nor borrow of them shall not come within their fore-ells continued the voice from the millstone and she shall be shut up till her time comes so that no one shall see her Then we will take her to the burying-ground and her child will be born in the burying-ground and the wedding shall take place by day and without musicians without musicians without musicians without musicians Serve her right she deserves worse A hundred voices were continually interrupting the speaker and more women were climbing onto the millstones and shouting the same things On the wedding day there will be great black candles burning throughout the whole town and when the bride is seated at the top of the marriage hall with her hair flowing loose about her all the girls shall surround her and the butchern shall tell her this is the way we treat one who has not held to her Jewishness and has blackened all our faces Yes, yes, so it is the apostates The last words struck the hero's hearts like poisoned arrows A deathly pallor born of unrealized terror at the suggested idea overspread all their faces their feelings were in a tumult of shame and suffering they thirsted and longed after their former life the time before the calamity disturbed their peace weary and wounded in spirit with startled looks throbbing pulses and dilated pupils and with no more than a faint hope that all might yet be well they slowly broke the stillness and departed to their homes End of Women by Maya Blinken Born about 1880 in the government of Kiev, Little Russia came to Chicago in 1906 and to New York for a short time in 1907, 1908 now, 1912, in business in Switzerland contributor to the Zukunft New York, Collected Works Novelin 1 Vol. Warsaw, 1910 If It Was a Dream by Loeb Shapiro Yes, it was a terrible dream but when one is only nine years old one soon forgets and Maya was nine and a few weeks before it came to pass Yes, and things had happened in the house every now and then to remind one of it but then Maya lived more out of doors than indoors in the wild streets of New York Tartilov and New York What a difference New York had supplanted Tartilov and faced it from his memory there remained only a faint occasional recollection of that horrid dream if it really was a dream it was this way Maya dreamt that he was sitting in Haider learning but more for show's sake than seriously because during the Yameem Noaim near the close of the session the Rebbe grew milder and the Haider less hateful and as he sat there and learnt he heard a banging of doors in the street and through the window saw Jews running to and fro as if bereft of their senses fleeing themselves hither and thither it was exactly like leaves in a gale or as when a witch rises from the ground in a column of dust and whirls across the road so suddenly and unexpectedly that it makes one's flesh creep and at the sight of this running up and down in the street the Rebbe collapsed in his chair whiter's death his underlip trembling Maya never saw him again he was told later that the Rebbe had been killed but somehow it gave him no pleasure although the Rebbe used to beat him neither did it particularly grieve him it probably made no great impression on his mind after all what did it mean exactly killed and the question slipped out of his head unanswered together with the Rebbe who was gradually forgotten and then the real horror began there were two days hiding away in the mikva he and some other little boys and a few older people without food, without drink without father and mother Maya was not allowed to get out and get home and once when he screamed they nearly suffocated him after which he sobbed and whimpered unable to stop crying all at once now and then he fell asleep and when he woke everything was just the same and all through the terror and the misery he seemed to hear only one word Goyim which came to have a very definite and terrible meaning for him otherwise everything was in a maze and as far as seeing goes he really saw nothing at all later when they came out again nobody troubled about him or came to see after him and a stranger took him home and neither his father nor his mother had a word to say to him any more as if he had just come home from Heida as on any other day everything in the house was broken they had twisted his father's arm and bruised his face his mother lay on the bed her fair hair tossed about and her eyes half closed her face pale and stained and something about her whole appearance so rumpled and sluttish it reminded one of a tumbled bed quilt his father walked up and down the room in silence looking at no one his bound arm in a white sling and when Maya conscious of some invisible columny burst out crying his father only gave him a gloomy irritated look and continued to span the room as before in about three weeks time they sailed for America the sea was very rough during the passage and his mother lay the whole time in her berth and was very sick Maya was quite fit and his father did nothing but paste the deck even when it poured with rain they came and ordered him downstairs Maya never knew exactly what happened but once a Gentile on board the ship passed a remark on his father made fun of him or something and his father drew himself up and gave the other a look nothing more than a look and the Gentile got such a fright that he began crossing himself he spit out and his lips moved rapidly to tell the truth Maya was frightened himself by the contraction of his father's mouth the grind of his teeth and by his eyes which nearly started from his head Maya had never seen him look like that before and soon his father was once more pacing the deck his head down his wet collar turned up his hands in his sleeves and his back slightly bent when they arrived in New York City Maya began to feel giddy and it was not long before the whole of Tartilove appeared to him like a dream it was in the beginning of winter and soon the snow fell the fresh white snow and it was something alike Maya was now a boy and went to school made snowballs, slid on slides built little fires in the middle of the street and nobody interfered he went home to eat and sleep and spent what you may call his life in the street in their room were cold piercing drafts which made it feel dreary and dismal Maya's father a lean large boned man with a dark brown face and a black beard had always been silent and it was but seldom he had said as much as Are you there, zipper? Do you hear me, zipper? but now his silence was frightening the mother on the other hand used to be full of life and spirits skipping about the place and it was shloy me here and shloy me there and her tongue wagging merrily and suddenly there was an end to it all the father only walked back and forth over the room and she turned to look after him like a child in disgrace and looked and looked as though forever wanting to say something and never daring to say it there was something new in her look something dog-like yes, on my word something like what there was in the eyes of Mishka the dog with which Maya used to play over there in that little town in dreamland sometimes Maya waking suddenly in the night heard or imagined he heard his mother sobbing while his father lay in the other bed puffing at his cigar but so hard it was frightening because it made a little fire every time in the dark as though of itself in the air just over the place where his father's black head must be lying then Maya's eyes would shut of themselves his brain was confused and his mother and the glowing sparks and the whole room sank away from him and Maya dropped off to sleep twice that winter his mother felt ill the first time it lasted two days the second four and both times the illness was dangerous her face glowed like an oven her lower lip bled beneath her sharp white teeth and yet wild terrifying groans betrayed what she was suffering and she was often violently sick just as when they were at sea at those times she looked at her husband with the eyes in which there was no prayer Mishka once ran a thorn deep into his paw and he squealed and growled angrily and sucked his paw as though he were trying to swallow it thorn and all and the look in his eyes was the look of Maya's mother in her pain in those days his father too behaved differently for instead of walking to and fro across the room he ran puffing incessantly at his cigar his brow like a thunder cloud at occasional lightnings flashing from his eyes he never looked at his wife and neither of them looked at Maya who then felt himself utterly wretched and forsaken and it is very odd but it was just on these occasions that Maya felt himself drawn to his home in the street things were as usual but at home it was like being in shawl during the solemn days at the blowing of the ram's horn when so many tall fathers stand with talus over their heads and hold their breath and when out of the distance there comes unfolding over the heads of the people the long, loud blast of the shofar and both times when his mother recovered the shadow that lay on their home had darkened his father was gloomier than ever and his mother, when she looked at him had a still more crushed and dog-like expression as though she were lying outside in the dust of the street the snow falls became rarer then they ceased altogether and they came into the air a feeling of something new what exactly it would have been hard for Maya to say however it was something good very good for everyone in the street was glad of it one could see that by their faces which were more lightsome and gay on Erev Pesach the sky of home cleared a little too street and house joined hands through the windows opened now for the first time since winter set in and this neighborly act of theirs cheered Maya's heart his parents made preparations for Pesach and poor little preparations they were there was no matzah baking with its merry to-do a packet of cold stale matzah was brought into the house there was no pale of beetroot soup in the corner covered with a coarse cloth of unbleached linen no dusty china service was fetched from the attic where it lain many years between one Passover and another his father brought in a dinner service from the street one he had bought cheap and of which the pieces did not match but the exhilaration of the festival made itself felt for all that and warmed their hearts at home in Tatalov it had happened once or twice that Maya had lain in his little bed with eyes open staring stock still with terror into the silent blackness of the night and feeling as if he were the only living soul in the whole world that is the whole house and the sudden cry of a cock would be enough on these occasions to send a warm current of relief and security through his heart his father's face looked a little more cheerful in the daytime while he dusted the cups his eyes had something pensive in them but his lips were set so that you thought there, now, now they're going to smile the mother danced the motza pancakes up and down in the kitchen so that they chattered and gurgled in the frying pan when a neighbour came in to borrow a cooking pot Maya happened to be standing beside his mother the neighbour got her pot and the women exchanged a few words about the coming holiday and then the neighbour said so we shall soon be having a rejoicing at your house and with a wink and a smile she pointed at his mother with her finger whereupon Maya remarked for the first time that her figure had grown round and full but he had no time just then to think it over for they came that sound a broken china from the next room his mother stood like one knocked on the head and his father appeared in the door and said go, go his voice sent a quiver through the window panes as if a heavy wagon were just crossing the bridge outside at a trot the startled neighbour turned and whisked out of the house Maya's parents looked ill at ease in their holiday garb for the face of mourners the whole ceremony of the Passover Seder was spoiled by an atmosphere of the last meal on the eve of Tisha Ba'av the destruction of the temple and when Maya, with the indifferent voice of one hired for the occasion sang out Mahnishtena Halolahazer Mikol Halilos his heart shrank together there was the same hush around him as there is in Shul when an orphan recites the first Kaddish for his dead parents his mother's lips moved but gave forth no sound from time to time she wetted a finger with her tongue and turned over leaf after leaf in her service book and from time to time a large bright tear fell over her beautiful but depressed face onto the book or the white tablecloth or her dress his father never looked at her did he see she was crying Maya wondered then how strangely he was reciting the Haggadah he would chant a portion in a long drawn out fashion and suddenly his voice would break sometimes with a gurgle as though a hand had seized him by the throat and closed it then he would look silently in his book or his eye would wander round the room with a vacant stare then he would start intoning again and again his voice would break they ate next to nothing said grace to themselves in a whisper after which the father said Maya, open the door not without fear the usual uncertainty as to the appearance of the prophet Elijah whose goblet stood filled for him on the table Maya opened the door pour out thy wrath upon the Gentiles who do not know thee a slight shudder ran down between Maya's shoulders for a strange quite unfamiliar voice Maya rounded through the room from one end to the other shot up against the ceiling flung itself down again and gone flapping round the four walls like a great wild bird in a cage Maya hastily turned to look at his father and felt their hair bristle on his head with fright straight and stiff as a screwed up fiddle string he would, beside the table, a wild figure in a snow-white robe with a dark beard a broad bony face and a weird black flame in the eye the teeth were ground together and the voice would go over into a plaintive roar like that of a hungry bloodthirsty animal his mother sprang up from her seat trembling in every limb stared at him for a few seconds and then threw herself at his feet catching hold of the edge of his row with both hands she broke into lamentation shlimy, shlimy you'd better kill me shlimy, kill me ay, ay, misfortune Maya felt as though a large hand with long fingernails had introduced itself into his inside and turned it upside down with one fell twist his mouth opened wildly and crookedly and a scream of childish terror burst from his throat Tatalov had suddenly leapt wildly into view a frighted juice flow up and down the streets with leaves in a storm the white-faced Rebbe sat in his chair his underlip trembling his mother lay on her bed looking all pulled about like a rumpled counterpane Maya saw all this as clearly and sharply as though he had seen it before his eyes he felt and knew that it was not all over it was only just beginning that the calamity, the great calamity the real calamity was still to come and might at any moment descend upon their heads like a thunderbolt only what it was he did not know or ask himself and a second time a scream of distraught all this terror escaped his throat a few neighbours, Italians who were standing in the passage by the open door looked on in alarm and whispered among themselves and still the wild curses filled the room one minute loud and resonant the next with a spiteful gasping of a manstructed death mighty god pour out thy wrath upon the peoples who have no god in their hearts pour out thy wrath upon the lands where thy name is unknown he has devoured devoured my body he has laid waste laid waste my house thy wrath shall pursue them pursue them or take them or take them destroy them from under thy heavens end of if it was a dream by Lobe Shapiro section 43 of Yiddish Tales this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Yiddish Tales translated by Helena Frank and read by Adrian Pretzelis section 43 Shalom Ash born 1881 in Kutno, Government of Warsaw Russian Poland Jewish Education and Hasidic Surroundings began to write in 1900 earliest works being in Hebrew Sippurim was published in 1903 and Estatal in 1904 wrote his first drama in 1905 distinguished for realism love of nature and description of parochial Jewish life in the villages playwright dramas Gott von Neckomo Mashiach, Saiton, etc collected works Shriffen Warsaw 1908 to 1912 in course of publication a simple story by Shalom Ash Fagel, like all young girls is fond of dressing and decking herself out she has no time for these frivolities during the week there is work in plenty and sewing to do rent is high and times are bad the father earns but little and there is a deal wanting towards her 300 rubles dowry beside which her mother trenches on it occasionally on Sabbath when the family purse is empty there are as many marriageable young men as dogs only every dog want a fat bone comes into her head she dislikes much thinking she's a young girl and a pretty one of course one shouldn't be conceited but when she stands in front of the glass she sees her bright face and rosy cheeks and the fall of her black hair but she soon forgets it all as though she were afraid that to rejoice in it might bring her ill luck Sabbath is quite another thing there is time and to spare and on Sabbath Fagela's toilet knows no end the mother calls there Fagela that's enough you will do very well as you are but what should old-fashioned women like her know about it anything will do for them whether you've got a hat and a jacket on or not they're just as pleased but a young girl like Fagel knows the difference he is sitting out there on the bench he, Eliezer, with a party of his mates casting furtive glances which he thinks nobody sees and nudging his neighbour look, fire and flame as she, Fagel, behaves as though unaware of his presence walks straight past as coolly and unconcernedly as you please and as though Eliezer might look and look his eyes out after her take his own life hang himself for all she cares but oh Fagel the vexation and the heartache when one day you walk past and he doesn't look at you but at Malka who has a new hat and jacket that suit her about as well as a veil suits a dog and yet he looks at her and you turn round again and yet again pretending to look at something else because it isn't proper but you just glance over your shoulder and he is still looking after Malka his whole face shining with delight and nudges his mate as to say do you see? oh Fagel you need a heart of adamant if it is not to burst in twain with mortification however no sooner has Malka disappeared down a sidewalk then he gets up from the bench dragging his mate along with him and they follow arm in arm follow Fagel like her shadow to the end of the avenue catching her eye he nods a good chubbous Fagel with a supercilious tip tilt of her head as much as to say it's all the same to me I'm sure I'll just go down this other avenue for a change and lo and behold if she happens to look around there is Eleazar too and he follows follows like a wearisome creditor and then oh Fagel such a lovely blissful feeling comes over you don't look take no notice of him walk ahead stiffly and firmly with your head high let him follow and look at you and he looks and he follows he would follow you to the world's end into the howling desert ha ha how lovely it feels but once on a Sabbath evening walking in the gardens with a girlfriend and he following Fagel turned aside down a dark path and sat down on a bench behind a bushy tree he came and sat down too at the other end of the bench evening the many branching trees overshadow and obscure it grows dark they are screened and hidden from view a breeze blows lightly and pleasantly and cools the air they feel it good to be there their heart beat in the stillness who will say the first word he coughs to show that he is there but she makes no sign implying that she neither knows who he is but he wants and has no wish to learn they are silent they only hear their own beating hearts and the wind in the leaves I beg your pardon do you know what time it is? no I don't she replies stiffly meaning I know quite well what you're after but don't be in such a hurry you won't get anything the sooner the girl beside her gives her a nudge did you hear that? she giggles Fagal feels a little annoyed with her does the girl think she is the object? and she presently prepares to rise but remains as though glued to the seat a beautiful night isn't it? yes, a beautiful evening and so the conversation gets into swing with a question from him and an answer from her on different subjects first with fear and flattering of the heart then they get closer one to another and become more confidential when she goes home he sees her to the door they shake hands and say till we meet again and they meet a second and a third time for young hearts attract each other like a magnet at first of course it's accidental they meet by chance in the company of two other people a girlfriend of hers and a chum of his and then little by little they come to feel that they want to see each other alone all to themselves and they fix upon a quiet time and place and they met they walked away together outside the town between the sky and the fields walked and talked and again conscious that the talk was an artificial one were even more gladly silent evening and the last sunbeams were gliding over the ears of corn on both sides of the way then a breeze came along and the ears swayed and whispered together as the two passed on between them down the long road night was gathering it grew continually darker more melancholy more delightful I've been wanting to know you for a long time, Fagal I know you follow me like a shadow they are silent what are you thinking about, Fagal? what are you thinking about, Eliazza? and they plunge once more into a deep converse about all sorts of things and there seems to be no reason why it should ever end it grows darker and darker they have come to walk closer together now he takes her hand she gives a start but his hand steals further and further into hers suddenly as dropped from the sky he bends his face and kisses her on the cheek a thrill goes through her she takes her hand out of his and appears rather cross but he knows it is put on and very soon she is all right again as if the incident were forgotten an hour or two goes by thus and every day now they steal away and meet outside the town and Eliazza began to frequent her parents' house the first time with an excuse he had some work for Fagal and then as people do he came to know when the work would be done and Fagal behaved as though she had never seen him before as though not even knowing who he was and politely begged him to take a seat so it came about by degrees that Eliazza was continually in and out of the house coming and going as he pleased and without stating any pretext whatsoever Fagal's parents knew him for a steady young man he was a skilled artisan earning a good wage and they knew quite well why a young man comes to the house of a young girl but they feigned ignorance thinking to themselves let the children get to know each other better there will be time enough to talk it over afterwards evening a small room shadows moving on the walls a new table on which burns a large bright lamp and sitting beside it Fagal sewing Eliazza reading aloud a novel by Shoma father and mother tired out with a whole day's work sleep on their beds behind the curtain which shuts off half the room and so they sit, both of them only sometimes Eliazza laughs aloud takes her by the hand and exclaims with a smile Fagal what do you want, silly? nothing at all, nothing at all and she sews on thinking I have got you fast enough but don't imagine you are taking someone from the street just as she is there are still 80 roubles wanting to make 300 in the bank and she shows him her wedding outfit the shifts and the bed clothes of which half lie waiting in the drawers they drew closer one to another they became more and more intimate so that all looked upon them as engaged and expected the marriage contract to be drawn up any day Fagal's mother was jubilant at her daughter's good fortune at the prospect of such a son-in-law such a golden son-in-law Rebyankel her father was an elderly man a worn-out peddler bent sideways with the bag of junk continually on his shoulder now he too had a little bit of pleasure a taste of joy for which God be praised everyone rejoices Fagal most of all her cheeks look rosier and fresher her eyes darker and brighter she sits at her machine and sews and the whole room rings with her voice and what I wanted I felt I should live as such I wanted a beautiful house God gave me She raises from her place goes to the chest that stands in the stove-corner takes something out of it and hides it under her apron Whatever have you got there? he laughs Why are you in such a hurry to know? she asks and sits down beside him brings from under her apron a picture in fine wool-work Adam and Eve and shows it him saying there, now you see it was worked by a girl I know for me, for us I shall hang it up in our room opposite the bed yours or mine You wait, Eliazza you will see the house I shall arrange for you a paradise I tell you just a little paradise everything in it will have to shine so that it will be a pleasure to step inside and every evening when work is done we too shall sit together side by side just as we are doing now and he puts an arm around her and you will tell me everything all about everything says she laying a hand on his shoulder while with the other she takes hold of his chin and looks into his eyes they feel so happy so light at heart everything in the house has taken on an air of kindness there is a soft attractive gloss on every object in the room on the walls and the table the familiar things make signs to her and speak to her as friend to friend the two are silent lost in their own thoughts look she says to him and takes her bank book out of the chest 240 rubles already I shall make it up to 300 and then you won't have to say I took you just as you were go along with you you're very unjust and I'm crossed with you Fagal why? because I tell you the truth to your face he asks looking into his face and laughing he turns his head away pretending to be offended you little silly are you feeling hurt? I was only joking can't you see? so it goes on till her old mother's face peeps out from behind the curtain warning them that it is time to go to rest when the young couple bid each other good night Rebie ankle Fagal's father fell ill it was in the beginning of winter and there was war between winter and summer the former sent a snowfall the latter a burst of sun the snow turned to mud and between times it poured with rain by the bucketful this sort of weather made the old man ill he became weak in the legs and took to his bed there was no money for food and still less for firing and Fagal had to lend for the time being the old man lay a bed and coughed his pale shriveled face reddened the teeth show between the drawn lips and the blue veins stood out on his temples they sent for the doctor who prescribed a remedy the mother wished to pour in their last pillow but Fagal protested and gave up part of her wages and when this was not enough she poured her jacket anything sooner than touch the dowry and he, Eliazza, came every evening and they sat down together beside the well-known table in the lamp-light Why are you so sad, Fagala? How can you expect me to be cheerful with father so ill? God will help, Fagala and he will get better It's four weeks since I put a farthing into the savings-bank What do you want to save for? What do I want to save for? she asked with a startled look as though something had frightened her Are you going to tell me without a dowry? What do you mean by without a dowry? You're worth all the money in the world to me worth my whole life What do I want with your money? See here my five fingers they can earn all we need I have two hundred rubles in the bank saved from my earnings What do I want with more? They are silent for a moment with downcast eyes And your mother? She asks quietly Will you please tell me are you marrying my mother or me? And what concern is she of yours? Fagala is silent I tell you again I'll take you just as you are and you'll take me the same will you? She puts the corner of her apron to her eyes and cries quietly to herself There is stillness around The lamp sheds its brightness over the little room and casts their shadows onto the walls The heavy sleeping of the old people is audible behind the curtains and her head lies on his shoulder and her thick black hair hides his face How kind you are, Eliazza she whispers through her tears as she opens her whole heart to him tells him how it is with them now how bad things are they've pawned everything and there is nothing left for tomorrow nothing but the dowry He clasps her lovingly and dries her cheeks with her apron and saying Don't cry, Fagala Don't cry It will come all right And tomorrow, mind you will go to the office and take a little of the dowry as much as you need until your father, God Helping is well again and able to earn something and then and then she echoes in a whisper and then it will all come right and his eyes flash into hers just as you are he whispers and she looks at him crosses her face she feels so happy so happy next morning she went to the post office for the first time with her bank book took out a few rubles and gave them to her mother the mother sighed heavily and took on a grieved expression she frowned and pulled her head-cut-chief down over her eyes old Reb-Yankel, lying in bed turned his face to the wall the old man knew where the money came from he knew how his only child had toiled for these few rubles other fathers gave money to their children he took it it seemed to him as though he were plundering the two young people he had not long to live and he was robbing them before he died as he thought on this his eyes glazed the veins on his temple swelled and his face became suffused with blood his head is buried in the pillow and turns to the wall he lies and thinks these thoughts he knows that he is in the way of the children's happiness and he prays that he might die and she, Fagel, would come into a fortune all at once to have a lot of money to be as rich as any great lady and then, suppose she had a thousand rubles now this minute and he came in there take the whole of it see if I love you there, take it and then you needn't say you love me for nothing just as I am they sit beside the father's bed her heart overflows with content she feels happier than she ever felt before there are even tears of joy on her cheeks she sits and cries hiding her face with her apron he takes her caressingly by the hand repeating in his kind sweet voice Fagela stop crying, Fagela please the father lies turned with his face to the wall and the beating of his heart is heard in the stillness they sit and she feels confidence in Eliza she feels that she can rely upon him she sits and drinks in his words she feels him rolling the heavy stones off from her heart the old father has turned around and looked at them and a sweet smile steals over his face as though he would say have no fear children I agree with you I agree with all my heart and Fagela feels so happy so happy the father is still lying ill and Fagela takes out one ruble after another one five ruble piece after another the old man lies and prays and muses and looks at the children and holds his piece his face gets paler and more wrinkled he grows weaker he feels his strength ebbing away Fagela goes on taking money out of the savings bank the stamps in her book grow less and less she knows that soon there will be nothing left old Rebiankel wishes in secret that he did not require so much that he might cease to hamper other people he spits blood drops and his strength goes on diminishing and so do the stamps in Fagela's book the day he died saw the last farthing of Fagela's dowry disappear after the others Fagela has resumed her seat by the bright lamp and sows and sows till far into the night and with every seam that she sows something is added to the credit of her new account this time the dowry must be a larger one because for every stamp that is added to the account book there is a new grey hair on Fagela's black head end of a simple story by Sholom Ash