Jewish fiction; Jews -- Fiction; Peretz, Isaac Leib, 1851 or 1852-1915 -- Translations into English; Short stories
"Enough that I knew it.
"Well, 'and he kept the thing in his heart.' I waited, for I was not
going to plague the Rebbe about a trifle. I waited. I was living just
then a mile outside Vorke. My first wife was alive, and she did not fare
badly, though it was difficult to make both ends meet. But I earned
whatever it was by my match-making, and my wife supported us by means of
her stall. And not only us, but also she provided for a married couple,
my eldest daughter and her husband, who was an excellent scholar. What,
then, was lacking?
"And it came to pass on a day that my son-in-law was away at the Ger
Rebbe's, there was a fair in the town, and my daughter was in child-bed.
It went hard with her, a first baby. Beile Bashe, the midwife, was at
her wit's end, and this was the third day of her pains. No cupping, no
blood-letting seemed to help--things were very bad. And I hear that the
Rebbe is coming to a circumcision.
"What do you think? 'There sprang up light for the Jews!' We were all
overjoyed. It put new life into us. We pray that God will preserve her
another day and a half, because people were only let in an hour before
the ceremony. But meanwhile things got worse and worse, she was near
death.
"An hour or two before the ceremony, however, she grew easier, or so it
seemed to me. She came to herself, opened her eyes, urged her mother to
go to the fair, and called me to her bedside. A foolish woman, they are
all alike--they blame us for it.
"She doesn't like Shmülek, she says, she never liked him, she didn't
want him from the very first. She can't stand him and had better die.
She had sent her mother out on purpose, because she was afraid of her.
She, peace be upon her, was a terror to the children--she wanted to slap
her daughter on her wedding-day.
"I, of course, gave her to understand that all women are the same, that
some even make a vow never to live with their husbands again; that the
sin-offering is there on that account--some even swear that--'but no one
may be held responsible for what he utters in pain and grief.' But she
keeps to it, she bids me farewell, she needs no vows, no oaths, she
says, smiling. I am going out, she says, like a candle.
"Well, I listen to her and can see all the while that she is better. She
is quite clear again in her mind, and it only wants half an hour to the
circumcision. And she looked quite pretty again.
"I sit by the bed and talk to her--even the midwife had gone to buy a
cradle at the fair. I look at the clock--it is time to go. I look at
her. Upon my word! Quite well! And yet I do not want to go and leave her
all alone, and nearly alone in the town.
"The fair, you see, comes once a year, and lasts three days, and it
means Parnosseh for the whole twelve months. So, you see, there was no
one left at the Rebbe's even--every soul was off to the fair.
"Well, I wait a bit.
"But in half an hour things got suddenly worse. She snatches at my hand,
falls back on the pillows, makes grimaces. Bad!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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