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"Reb Bensef being very much distressed by the death of Rabbi Jeiteles, went to Tchernigof to ask counsel of the bal-shem and has just returned." "Well, what did the wise man advise?" asked Jentele, burning with impatience, while her partially washed baby lay kicking in her arms. "Listen, I am coming to that," answered Itzig, with provoking slowness.
I will give an outfit to both bride and groom and provide them with money to last a year, if you will consent to their marrying in the cemetery. What do you think of it?" "Who is the young man?" queried Jentele, her face expressing neither pleasure nor pain. "You know the jeschiva student, Kahn?" "He is poor, very poor, indeed." "What is that to us?
"Can you not earn anything?" "How can I? I must cook for my little ones and watch my ailing child." "Are your children of no service to you?" "My oldest girl, Beile, is but seven years old. She does all she can to help me, but it is not much," answered Jentele, irritably. Hirsch sighed heavily and drawing out his purse, he placed a gold coin in the woman's hand.
At times the wedding of a wealthy Jew, or the funeral of some eminent man, demanded his services and for a week or more money would be plentiful and happiness reign supreme. Hirsch Bensef entered the hut and found Jentele, Maier's wife, perspiring over the hearth which occupied one corner of the room. She was preparing a meal of boiled potatoes.
One morning Itzig ran as fast as his shuffling legs would bear him, up the dirty lane that led to his abode, and fell rather than walked into the low door that led into his hut. His wife was engaged in washing a baby the seventh and Beile, an ill-favored, sallow-complexioned girl, sat at the window sewing. "Jentele," cried Itzig, sinking into a chair, "God has been good to us!"
"Have you just found that out?" asked his wife, petulantly. "What is the matter? Have you come into a fortune?" "Beile, leave the room," said Itzig. "Why, father?" "Leave the room! I want to talk to your mother." Beile put away her work and walked out into the lane. "Rejoice with me, Jentele," said the delighted husband, as he rubbed his shrivelled hands.
Reb Bensef will provide clothing and money for a whole year." "And when that is all gone?" queried his wife, resuming operations upon the baby. "Then God will provide. Did we have more when we married?" "It is an opportunity of a life-time," mused Jentele, looking at her parched and yellow better-half. "Do as you think best."
The ceremony was, therefore, performed by the Rabbi of another congregation, who hurried through the short service with almost eager haste. Jentele kissed the weeping bride, Itzig embraced his son-in-law. Suddenly the father tottered and with a moan fell to the ground. His face became livid, his eyes sank in their sockets, his blue lips frothed, and his whole body shook with agony.
"Where is your husband?" asked Hirsch, gasping for breath, for the heat and the malodorous atmosphere were stifling. "Where should he be but in the synagogue?" said Jentele, as she went to rock the cradle, for the child had begun to cry and fret at the sight of the stranger.
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