"What do you mean by 'without a dowry'? You are 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?" Feigele 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 curtain. And her head lies on his shoulder, and her thick black hair hides his face. "How kind you are, Eleazar," she whispers through her tears. And she opens her whole heart to him, tells him how it is with them now, how bad things are, they have pawned everything, and there is nothing left for to-morrow, nothing but the dowry! He clasps her lovingly, and dries her cheeks with her apron end, saying: "Don't cry, Feigele, don't cry. It will all come right. And to-morrow, mind, you are to go to the postoffice, 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, and a smile crosses her face. She feels so happy, so happy. * * * * * Next morning she went to the postoffice 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-kerchief down over her eyes. Old Reb Yainkel 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 those few rubles. Other fathers gave money to their children, and 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 may die. And she, Feigele, would like to come into a fortune all at once, to have a lot of money, to be as rich as any great lady.