My mother was right. The girl's father got to know the whole story. Ephraim Log-of-wood went off himself and told it to him. And in this way Ephraim had his revenge of Hershel the Tax-collector; for the two had always been at the point of sticking knives into one another. * * * Next day I got back the marriage-contract and the presents which had been given to the bride-elect. And I was no longer a bridegroom-elect. This grieved my father so deeply that he fell into a very serious illness. He was bedridden for a long time. He would not let me come near him. He refused to look into my face. All my mother's tears and arguments and explanations and her defence of me were of no use at all. "The disgrace," said my father, "the disgrace of it is worse than anything else." "May it turn out to be a real, true sacrifice for us all," said my mother to him. "The Lord will have to send us another bride-elect. What can we do? Shall we take our own lives? Perhaps it is not his destiny to marry this girl." Amongst those who came to visit my father in his illness was Tchitchick the bandmaster. When my father saw him, he took off his little round cap, sat up in his bed, stretched out his hand to him, looked straight into his eyes and said: "Oh, 'Mr. Sergeant!' 'Mr. Sergeant!'" He could not utter another sound, because he was smothered by his tears and his cough.... This was the first time in my life that I saw my father crying. His tears gripped hold of my heart, and chilled me to the very soul. I stood and looked out of the window, swallowing my tears in silence. At that moment, I was heartily sorry for all the mischief I had done. I cried within myself, from the very depths of my heart, beating my breast: "I have sinned." And within myself, I vowed solemnly to myself that I would never, never anger my father again, and never, never cause him any pain. No more fiddle! This Night "TO MY DEAR SON, "I send you--'_roubles_,' and beg of you, my dear son, to do me the favour, and come home for the Passover Festival. It is a disgrace to me in my old age. We have one son, an only child, and we are not worthy to see him. Your mother also asks me to beg of you to be sure to come home for the Passover. And you must know that Busie is to be congratulated. She is now betrothed. And if the Lord wills it, she is going to be married on the Sabbath after the Feast of Weeks. "From me, "YOUR FATHER." This is the letter my father wrote to me. For the first time a sharp letter--for the first time in all those years since we had parted. And we had parted from one another, father and I, in silence, without quarrelling. I had acted in opposition to his wishes. I would not go his road, but my own road. I went abroad to study. At first my father was angry. He said he would never forgive me. Later, he began to send me money.