"You wait, Eleazar! 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 two 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," she says, 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 kindliness, 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, "two hundred and forty rubles already. I shall make it up to three hundred, and then you won't have to say, 'I took you just as you were.'" "Go along with you, you are very unjust, and I'm cross with you, Feigele." "Why? Because I tell you the truth to your face?" she 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 the 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. * * * * * Reb Yainkel, Feigele'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 Feigele had to lend for the time being. The old man lay abed and coughed, his pale, shrivelled face reddened, the teeth showed 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 pawn their last pillow, but Feigele protested, and gave up part of her wages, and when this was not enough, she pawned her jacket--anything sooner than touch the dowry. And he, Eleazar, came every evening, and they sat together beside the well-known table in the lamplight. "Why are you so sad, Feigele?" "How can you expect me to be cheerful, with father so ill?" "God will help, Feigele, 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 that you will take me without a dowry?"