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Updated: June 18, 2025
She had an instant conviction that it was all over with poor Levi. "My poor lamb!" cried the Rebbitzin, the coffee-cup dropping from her nerveless hand. "Simcha," said Reb Shemuel sternly, "calm thyself; we have no son to lose. The Holy One blessed be He! hath taken him from us. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh. Blessed be the name of the Lord." Hannah rose. Her face was white and resolute.
But I don't think I shall fill my stomach with the sales. Oh! the Holy One, blessed be He, bless you, Rebbitzin, of course I'll take a cup of coffee; I don't know any one else who makes coffee with such a sweet savor; it would do for a spice offering when the Almighty restores us our Temple. You are a happy mortal, Rabbi. You will permit that I seat myself at the table?"
His startled cry of agony and despair penetrated the woodwork, muffled to an inarticulate shriek. He rattled the door violently in unreasoning frenzy. "Who's that? What's that noise?" asked the Rebbitzin. "Only some Christian rough shouting in the street," answered Hannah. It was truer than she knew.
"One woman is more than thou canst support," said the Rebbitzin, irritated into Yiddish, "giving away the flesh from off thy children's bones. If thou hadst been a proper father thou wouldst have saved thy money for Hannah's dowry, instead of wasting it on a parcel of vagabond Schnorrers. Even so I can give her a good stock of bedding and under-linen.
Reb Shemuel's wife, commonly known as the Rebbitzin, was a tall woman with a bony nose and shrivelled cheeks, whereon the paths of the blood-vessels were scrawled in red. The same bones were visible beneath the plumper padding of Hannah's face. Mrs. Jacobs had escaped the temptation to fatness, which is the besetting peril of the Jewish matron.
"What are we all but Schnorrers, dependent on the charity of the Holy One, blessed be He? What! Have we made ourselves? Rather fall prostrate and thank Him that His bounties to us are so great that they include the privilege of giving charity to others." "But we work for our living!" said the Rebbitzin. "I wear my knees away scrubbing."
"How can I eat? Levi is dying," said Hannah, in low, firm tones. "Will you come, mother, or must I go alone?" The Rebbitzin began to wring her hands and weep. Esther stole gently to Hannah's side and pressed the poor girl's hand. "You and I will go," her clasp said. "Hannah!" said Reb Shemuel. "What madness is this? Dost thou think thy mother will obey thee rather than her husband?"
Thy father will not see him; he will not go to him till he is dead." "Oh yes, surely he will," said Esther. "But be comforted. Levi is young and strong. Let us hope he will pull through." "No, no!" moaned the Rebbitzin. "He will die, and my husband will but read the psalms at his death-bed. He will not forgive him; he will not speak to him of his mother and sister." "Let me go.
The Rebbitzin poured out the Rabbi's coffee and whitened it with milk drawn direct from the cow into her own jug. The butter and cheese were equally kosher, coming straight from Hebrew Hollanders and having passed through none but Jewish vessels. As the Reb sat himself down at the head of the table Hannah entered the room. "Good morning, father," she said, kissing him.
"I make thee catch cold!" said the Rebbitzin. "When thou comest through the air of winter in thy shirt-sleeves! Thou'lt fall back upon me for poultices and mustard plasters. And then thou expectest me to have enough money to pay a Shiksah into the bargain! If I have any more of thy Schnorrers coming here I shall bundle them out neck and crop."
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