A Simple Story
: SHALOM ASCHFeigele, 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, no evil eye! and sewing to do; rent is high, and times are bad.
The father earns but little, and there is a deal wanting towards her
three hundred rubles dowry, beside which her mother trenches on it
occasionally, on Sabbath, when the family purse is e
"There are as many marriageable young men as dogs, only every dog wants
a fat bone," comes into her head.
She dislikes much thinking. She is 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 it is quite another thing--there is time and to spare, and on
Sabbath Feigele's toilet knows no end.
The mother calls, "There, Feigele, 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 a hat and jacket on or not,
they're just as pleased.
But a young girl like Feigele knows the difference. He is sitting out
there on the bench, he, Eleazar, with a party of his mates, casting
furtive glances, which he thinks nobody sees, and nudging his neighbor,
"Look, fire and flame!" and she, Feigele, behaves as though unaware of
his presence, walks straight past, as coolly and unconcernedly as you
please, and as though Eleazar might look and look his eyes out after
her, take his own life, hang himself, for all she cares.
But, O Feigele, the vexation and the heartache when one fine day you
walk past, and he doesn't look at you, but at Malkeh, 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 Malkeh, his whole face
shining with delight, and he nudges his mate, as to say, "Do you see?" O
Feigele, you need a heart of adamant, if it is not to burst in twain
with mortification!
However, no sooner has Malkeh disappeared down a sidewalk, than he gets
up from the bench, dragging his mate along with him, and they follow,
arm-in-arm, follow Feigele like her shadow, to the end of the avenue,
where, catching her eye, he nods a "Good Sabbath!" Feigele answers with
a supercilious tip-tilt of her head, as much as to say, "It is 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, O Feigele, 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 girl
friend, and he following, Feigele 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 hearts beat in the stillness.
Who will say the first word?
He coughs, ahem! to show that he is there, but she makes no sign,
implying that she neither knows who he is, nor what 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
are 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.
Feigele 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 fluttering
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 is accidental, they meet by
chance in the company of two other people, a girl friend 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 have been wanting to know you for a long time, Feigele."
"I know. You followed me like a shadow."
They are silent.
"What are you thinking about, Feigele?"
"What are you thinking about, Eleazar?"
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 dropt 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 go by thus, and every day now they steal away and meet
outside the town.
And Eleazar began to frequent her parents' house, the first time with an
excuse--he had some work for Feigele. And then, as people do, he came to
know when the work would be done, and Feigele 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 Eleazar was continually in and out of
the house, coming and going as he pleased and without stating any
pretext whatever.
Feigele'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 home 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 Feigele sewing and
Eleazar reading aloud a novel by Shomer.
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 Eleazar laughs aloud,
takes her by the hand, and exclaims with a smile, "Feigele!"
"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 somebody from the street, just as she is; there
are still eighty rubles wanting to make three hundred in the bank."
And she shows him her wedding outfit, the shifts and the bedclothes, 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. Feigele'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!
Reb Yainkel, her father, was an elderly man, a worn-out peddler, bent
sideways with the bag of junk continually on his shoulder.
Now he, too, has a little bit of pleasure, a taste of joy, for which God
be praised!
Everyone rejoices, Feigele 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:
"Un was ich hob' gewollt, hob' ich ausgefuehrt,
Soll ich azoi leben!
Ich hob' gewollt a shenem Choson,
Hot' mir Gott gegeben."
In the evening comes Eleazar.
"Well, what are you doing?"
"What should I be doing? Wait, I'll show you something."
"What sort of thing?"
She rises 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 woolwork, 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, 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?"
"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.
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, she and her Eleazar.
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 hands, repeating in his kind, sweet
voice, "Feigele, stop crying, Feigele, 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 Eleazar, she feels that she can
rely upon him.
She sits and drinks in his words, she feels him rolling the heavy stones
from off her heart.
The old father has turned round 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 Feigele feels so happy, so happy....
* * * * *
The father is still lying ill, and Feigele 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 peace.
His face gets paler and more wrinkled, he grows weaker, he feels his
strength ebbing away.
Feigele 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 Reb Yainkel 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 Feigele's book. The day he died saw the last farthing of
Feigele's dowry disappear after the others.
* * * * *
Feigele has resumed her seat by the bright lamp, and sews and sews till
far into the night, and with every seam that she sews, 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 Feigele's black
head.
More
-
A Gloomy Wedding
They handed Gittel a letter that had come by post, she put on her spectacles, sat down by the window, and began to read. She read, and her face began to shine, and the wrinkled skin took on a little color. It was plain that what she read delight... A Jewish Child
The mother came out of the bride's chamber, and cast a piercing look at her husband, who was sitting beside a finished meal, and was making pellets of bread crumbs previous to saying grace. "You go and talk to her! I haven't a bit of strength le... A Livelihood
The two young fellows Maxim Klopatzel and Israel Friedman were natives of the same town in New Bessarabia, and there was an old link existing between them: a mutual detestation inherited from their respective parents. Maxim's father was the chief ... A Picnic
Ask Shmuel, the capmaker, just for a joke, if he would like to come for a picnic! He'll fly out at you as if you had invited him to a swing on the gallows. The fact is, he and his Sarah once went for a picnic, and the poor man will remember it all... A Scholar's Mother
The market lies foursquare, surrounded on every side by low, whitewashed little houses. From the chimney of the one-storied house opposite the well and inhabited by the baker, issues thick smoke, which spreads low over the market-place. Beneath th... A Simple Story
Feigele, 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, no evil eye! and sewing to do; rent is high, and times are bad. The father earns but lit... A Woman's Wrath
The small room is dingy as the poverty that clings to its walls. There is a hook fastened to the crumbling ceiling, relic of a departed hanging lamp. The old, peeling stove is girded about with a coarse sack, and leans sideways toward its gloomy n... Abraham Raisin
Born, 1876, in Kaidanov, Government of Minsk (Lithuania), White Russia; traditional Jewish education; self-taught in Russian language; teacher at fifteen, first in Kaidanov, then in Minsk; first poem published in Perez's Juedische Bibliothek, in 1... An Easy Fast
That which Doctor Tanner failed to accomplish, was effectually carried out by Chayyim Chaikin, a simple Jew in a small town in Poland. Doctor Tanner wished to show that a man can fast forty days, and he only managed to get through twenty-eight, ... An Original Strike
I was invited to a wedding. Not a wedding at which ladies wore low dress, and scattered powder as they walked, and the men were in frock-coats and white gloves, and had waxed moustaches. Not a wedding where you ate of dishes with outlandish n... As The Years Roll On
Rosalie laid down the cloth with which she had been dusting the furniture in her front parlor, and began tapping the velvet covering of the sofa with her fingers. The velvet had worn threadbare in places, and there was a great rent in the middle. ... At The Matzes
It was quite early in the morning, when Sossye, the scribe's daughter, a girl of seventeen, awoke laughing; a sunbeam had broken through the rusty window, made its way to her underneath the counterpane, and there opened her eyes. It woke her ou... Avrohom The Orchard-keeper
When he first came to the place, as a boy, and went straight to the house-of-study, and people, having greeted him, asked "Where do you come from?" and he answered, not without pride, "From the Government of Wilna"--from that day until the day he ... Bertzi Wasserfuehrer
I The first night of Passover. It is already about ten o'clock. Outside it is dark, wet, cold as the grave. A fine, close, sleety rain is driving down, a light, sharp, fitful wind blows, whistles, sighs, and whines, and wanders round on every s... Country Folk
Feivke was a wild little villager, about seven years old, who had tumbled up from babyhood among Gentile urchins, the only Jewish boy in the place, just as his father Mattes, the Kozlov smith, was the only Jewish householder there. Feivke had hard... David Frischmann
Born, 1863, in Lodz, Russian Poland, of a family of merchants; education, Jewish and secular, the latter with special attention to foreign languages and literatures; has spent most of his life in Warsaw; Hebrew critic, editor, poet, satirist, and ... David Pinski
Born, 1872, in Mohileff (Lithuania), White Russia; refused admission to Gymnasium in Moscow under percentage restrictions; 1889-1891, secretary to Bene Zion in Vitebsk; 1891-1893, student in Vienna; 1893, co-editor of Spektor's Hausfreund and Pere... Earth Of Palestine
As my readers know, I wanted to do a little stroke of business--to sell the world-to-come. I must tell you that I came out of it very badly, and might have fallen into some misfortune, if I had had the ware in stock. It fell on this wise: Nowadays... Eliezer David Rosenthal
Born, 1861, in Chotin, Bessarabia; went to Breslau, Germany, in 1880, and pursued studies at the University; returned to Bessarabia in 1882; co-editor of the Bibliothek Dos Leben, published at Odessa, 1904, and Kishineff, 1905; writer of stories. ... Ezrielk The Scribe
Forty days before Ezrielk descended upon this sinful world, his life-partner was proclaimed in Heaven, and the Heavenly Council decided that he was to transcribe the books of the Law, prayers, and Mezuzehs for the Kabtzonivke Jews, and thereby mak... Fishel The Teacher
Twice a year, as sure as the clock, on the first day of Nisan and the first of Ellul--for Passover and Tabernacles--Fishel the teacher travelled from Balta to Chaschtschevate, home to his wife and children. It was decreed that nearly all his life ... Forlorn And Forsaken
Forlorn and forsaken she was in her last years. Even when she lay on the bed of sickness where she died, not one of her relations or friends came to look after her; they did not even come to mourn for her or accompany her to the grave. There was n... Gymnasiye
A man's worst enemy, I tell you, will never do him the harm he does himself, especially when a woman interferes, that is, a wife. Whom do you think I have in mind when I say that? My own self! Look at me and think. What would you take me for? Just... Hirsh David Naumberg
Born, 1876, in Msczczonow, Government of Warsaw, Russian Poland, of Hasidic parentage; traditional Jewish education in the house of his grandfather; went to Warsaw in 1898; at present (1912) in America; first literary work appeared in 1900; writer... If It Was A Dream
Yes, it was a terrible dream! But when one is only nine years old, one soon forgets, and Meyerl was nine 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 Meyerl lived ... Isaac Dob Berkowitz
Born, 1885, in Slutzk, Government of Minsk (Lithuania), White Russia; was in America for a short time in 1908; contributor to Die Zukunft; co-editor of Ha-Olam, Wilna; Hebrew and Yiddish writer; collected works: Yiddish, Gesammelte Schriften, Wars... Isaac Loeb Perez
Born, 1851, in Samoscz, Government of Lublin, Russian Poland; Jewish, philosophical, and general literary education; practiced law in Samoscz, a Hasidic town; clerk to the Jewish congregation in Warsaw and as such collector of statistics on Jewish... Isaiah Berschadski
Pen name of Isaiah Domaschewitski; born, 1871, near Derechin, Government of Grodno (Lithuania), White Russia; died, 1909, in Warsaw; education, Jewish and secular; teacher of Hebrew in Ekaterinoslav, Southern Russia; in business, in Ekaterinoslav ... Isaiah Lerner
Born, 1861, in Zwoniec, Podolia, Southwestern Russia; co-editor of die Bibliothek Dos Leben, published at Odessa, 1904, and Kishineff, 1905. ... It Is Well
You ask how it is that I remained a Jew? Whose merit it is? Not through my own merits nor those of my ancestors. I was a six-year-old Cheder boy, my father a countryman outside Wilna, a householder in a small way. No, I remained a Jew thanks ... Jehalel
Pen name of Judah Loeb Lewin; born, 1845, in Minsk (Lithuania), White Russia; tutor; treasurer to the Brodski flour mills and their sugar refinery, at Tomaschpol, Podolia, later in Kieff; began to write in 1860; translator of Beaconsfield's Tancred ... Judah Steinberg
Born, 1863, in Lipkany, Bessarabia; died, 1907, in Odessa; education Hasidic; entered business in a small Roumanian village for a short time; teacher, from 1889 in Jedency and from 1896 in Leowo, Bessarabia; removed to Odessa, in 1905, to become c... Late
It was in sad and hopeless mood that Antosh watched the autumn making its way into his peasant's hut. The days began to shorten and the evenings to lengthen, and there was no more petroleum in the hut to fill his humble lamp; his wife complained t... Loeb Schapiro
Born, about 1880, in the Government of Kieff, 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 Die Zukunft, New York; collected works, Novellen, 1 vol., Wars... Lost His Voice
It was in the large synagogue in Klemenke. The week-day service had come to an end. The town cantor who sings all the prayers, even when he prays alone, and who is longer over them than other people, had already folded his prayer-scarf, and was hu... Manasseh
It was a stifling summer evening. I had just come home from work, taken off my coat, unbuttoned my waistcoat, and sat down panting by the window of my little room. There was a knock at the door, and without waiting for my reply, in came a woman... Meyer Blinkin
Born, 1879, in a village near Pereyaslav, Government of Poltava, Little Russia, of Hasidic parentage; educated in Kieff, where he acquired the trade of carpenter in order to win the right of residence; studied medicine; began to write in 1906; cam... Micha Joseph Berdyczewski
Born, 1865, in Berschad, Podolia, Southwestern Russia; educated in Yeshibah of Volozhin; studied also modern literatures in his youth; has been living alternately in Berlin and Breslau; Hebrew, Yiddish, and German writer, on philosophy, aesthetics... Military Service
"They look as if they'd enough of me!" So I think to myself, as I give a glance at my two great top-boots, my wide trousers, and my shabby green uniform, in which there is no whole part left. I take a bit of looking-glass out of my box, and l... Mordecai Spektor
Born, 1859, in Uman, Government of Kieff, Little Russia; education Hasidic; entered business in 1878; wrote first sketch, A Roman ohn Liebe, in 1882; contributor to Zedernbaum's Juedisches Volksblatt, 1884-1887; founded, in 1888, and edited Der Haus... Poverty
I was living in Mezkez at the time, and Seinwill Bookbinder lived there too. But Heaven only knows where he is now! Even then his continual pallor augured no long residence in Mezkez, and he was a Yadeschlever Jew with a wife and six small chil...