Two letters which Hannah received from her relative in Lublin, and one from her brother.

FIRST LETTER

To my friend, the excellent lady and esteemed and worthy woman, Mistress Hannah:

Dear Hannah, you were a whole fool and half a prophet, when you wrote me a second letter. Because the first one fell into the hands of my husband, and he put it into his pocket and forgot to give it me. Such is his little way--he cares for nothing except eating and drinking. But when I got the second letter, it occurred to me to look in his pocket, and whoso seeks, finds.

Hannah'li Kron, I felt, reading your bitter words, as if I were being struck on the head with an axe. I was stunned with grief. But I soon composed myself and thought, for instance: If my scatterbrain of a husband ran away to America--well? I should just let him run, and pay the piper into the bargain!

Now think: my whole Parnosseh, as you know, is tar,[129] and I don't require _his_ a.s.sistance! Indeed, I can't stand his coming into the shop, with the airs he gives himself!

If the customer is a woman, he won't answer her, the Chossid! Won't take the money from her hand, and if it's a man, likely as not he asks too little! If he takes the money, they palm off false coins on him. And if he is so kind, once in a while, as to take up a piece of chalk, and make out a bill for me, it is a bill! May they add up my sins, in the other world, as he adds up my wares!

And as to your husband not having left you a divorce, I am not so very surprised; my husband has no such easy time of it, and yet he doesn't divorce me, and why should he? Does he want for anything? He has a nice lodging, and when he comes home, supper is ready and the bed made at the proper time, and every Sabbath he gets a clean white shirt! Many's the time I've begged and prayed of him to go to all devils--not he! Do you think he'd budge an inch? And when I scold him and throw things at his head, he gets into a corner, makes a pitiful face, brings crocodile tears into his eyes, and I am so foolish as to relent, I give him food and drink, and off he goes.

And as to what you say about your lawsuit, you know, sister Hannah, I have quite a celebrated lawyer, because, for my sins, I have a never-ending case against cooks, the hussies! I a.s.sure you, Hannah'li, servants such as we have in Lublin are not to be found anywhere! How shall I describe them? Always swilling and stuffing--and they steal anything they can lay hands on, and run away before the quarter is out; and then they lodge a complaint against me, because I haven't paid them a quarter's wages, and in court, nowadays, they don't make a particle of difference between a servant-girl and a mistress, and I have to stand with her side by side! I mayn't open my mouth to say a word, otherwise the judge rings a bell and imposes a fine up to three rubles. So I never go into court alone, but have engaged an excellent lawyer, whose mouth drops sulphur and pitch, and he sees me through.

He once told me himself that the judge had frequently wished to imprison me on some ridiculous pretext, such as tearing a girl's hair or giving her a slap! But he cannot do it, because my advocate has all the law-books in his head, knows all the laws, every single one, chooses out the best for me, and flings them in the judge's face, so that he sits there like a dummy and, w.i.l.l.y-nilly, has to write "Acquitted!"

And no sooner had I read your letter, and found the first one in my husband's pocket, than I hastened to my lawyer, and he received me most politely, and asked me to be seated on the plush sofa.

I told him your whole story from Aleph to Taw, down to every detail; and he listened attentively to it all, although the anteroom was crowded with people waiting. He listened and walked up and down the room.

Then he sighed and said that according to the laws a daughter had equal rights with a son and should inherit a share! So far, good! But there is the following hitch: A wife cannot summons anyone without her husband's knowledge, because she is under his jurisdiction, and must be given power of attorney by him.

And when I told him that you, unhappily, were a gra.s.s-widow, that your husband had deserted you, and that, in my opinion, you were free to do as you pleased, he planted himself in front of me and shook his head--that meant: By no means!

And he went to a book-case, took out one book after the other, looked in, put it down, looked in and put it down, and so on with any number of books, little and big and bigger. One, heaven forgive me, was as fat as a pig. And in this one he apparently found what he was in search of, for he stood over it a long time.

And then he told me, that if, after five years from the date of your desertion, you bring him a paper from the justice of your town to certify that your husband has not once shown himself in those five years, he, the lawyer, will put in a plea for you in court, and the court will give you permission to summons your brother.

This is what he said--I give it you word for word.

I offered him a ruble, and he made a wry face--evidently, not enough; but he took it. Send me the ruble, Hannah'li Kron, as soon as you can, for trade is slack, and tar is a drug in the market.

To return to the matter in hand:

It is what I always said and I say it again: the holy Torah (and _their_ law, lehavdil, of course, also) has handed us over to the mercy of bandits! A man, a dummy, a bolster, can divorce his wife when he likes, either in person or by proxy; and a worthy woman, like myself, for instance, cannot get rid of an idler like mine for love or money!

If we go together to a family gathering, he is stuffed with fish and meat and all good things, and I--get a cup of chicory and milk!

When he sits in the booth at Tabernacles, one has to send him the best of everything, and I live on bones!

I share the three weeks, nine days, and all the fasts, but the Rejoicing of the Law is _his_!

He goes to a Rebbe, and they give him honey with apples! And what will Paradise, when it comes to that, mean for _me_? I shall be the idiot's footstool! He will sit in a grandfather's chair, and I shall be his footstool!

In this world he is a feeble creature and is afraid of me, but how it will be in the other world, don't ask me! I tell you plainly, if he gives me the least shove with his foot, the Almighty alone knows what will happen!

To return: What would you get by a divorce? Believe me, all dogs have the same face! Not one of them is worth a dreier! You know my sister Miriam suffered through her husband ten years before she could obtain a divorce, and then she had to leave him her money and her clothes--in a word, all she had! A nice thing, wasn't it?

She married again and was out of the frying-pan into the fire: another idler to feed! She wanted a second divorce, he was satisfied, but she couldn't afford to pay for it!

In short, dear Hannah, our mother Eve sinned and we suffer for it! And we always shall suffer! For there is no escape from a husband, even in the grave.

We have been sold to be servants and slaves in the other world, too! So it was aforetime, so it is now, and so it will be in the future world!

One has to suffer! For what is to be done, if the Almighty wills it so?

Therefore, dear Hannah, have faith in G.o.d, blessed is He! Keep well and forget your husband, who has probably forgotten you. That is always the way when they go to America.

At first they write honeyed letters and send money; then, less and less; then they write and send money once a year--then, once in seven years--they don't need their wives out there, they have other women, better, livelier!

May I be forgiven for saying so, but in Lublin, in the Jewish quarter, there isn't a house without a gra.s.s-widow! Wash your hands of him, I tell you, and forget! Imagine yourself a real widow or a divorced woman!

Turn your attention to the onions. May His blessed Name send you success in business and preserve you whichever way you turn. Such is the wish of your relative.

(The signature is undecipherable.)

I beg of you to send me the ruble as soon as possible, because my husband, gorger and tippler that he is, is angry with me for having given it.

(The same undecipherable signature.)

SECOND LETTER

To my sister Hannah:

First, my dear sister, I let you know that we are all well, except my wife, Eva Gutel, who (not of you be it said!) is never free from cough for an instant, and who, no sooner is the wedding over, must go to Warsaw to consult a doctor.

I send you enclosed an invitation to the wedding. Mind you come and enjoy yourself! Only do not, for mercy's sake, spoil my daughter's happiness, and keep all contentions till the wedding is over.

You need not feel called upon to bring any present. If, however, you are troubled about appearances, you are sure to find something in the house that will do. I shall not take it amiss. Blood is thicker than water and a sister is a sister.

And as to what you say about having no clothes to come in, that is nonsense. You can borrow a dress of some one or other either there or here.

And as to what you say about not being able to comfort yourself for the child that has died--you know, dear sister, "He gave and He hath taken away!"

Children are a pledge from G.o.d, and if G.o.d wishes to take back the deposit, we must not even brood over it and try to think why. G.o.d forbid!

And as to your being afraid of your husband finding out that the child is dead and breaking with you altogether, that is another useless antic.i.p.ation. Believe me, sister, it is quite foolish, because if it is true, as people say, that Shmuel Mosheh is Shmuel Mosheh no longer--he is treading other paths--it will be all the same, child or no child. He doesn't want you and you cannot hold to him!

And if, as I trust, that is all an invention, a calumny, and if, as I firmly believe, Shmuel Mosheh is still Shmuel Mosheh, the learned and pious Jew, then you have nothing to fear! On the contrary, with half the expense it will be much easier to have you out to join him, and you will live in peace and plenty.

And as to your having had no news of him for so long, is it a wonder? I believe it is across the sea! How many ships, preserve us, are wrecked on the way; how many postmen lose their lives on such an errand! And perhaps the ships have to pa.s.s the spot where, as the Book of the Covenant says, the waters stand on an heap, and there is peril of death.

Thank His dear Name that your Shmuel Mosheh crossed in safety! I consider this fleeing to lands beyond the sea a disgrace and a shame, it is a sign of want of trust, because he who trusts knows that G.o.d helps whom He will, and he shrinks from endangering both body and soul. For they say that America is as dangerous to the soul as the sea to the body. They say, people throw off their Jewishness on board ship as soon as the sea gives them a toss. They soon begin to eat bread baked by Gentiles, forbidden food, to dress German fashion, women wear wigs, even, it has been said, their own hair. And the proof that America is dangerous to the soul is that there is not one "good Jew" in all America! And I cannot imagine how one would exist there, where one could get advice in questions of Parnosseh, or if one were ill, or anything else happened to one. I tell you that the man who goes into Satan's domain of his own accord is responsible for his soul, for he is like a foolish bird flying into a net. And particularly a learned Jew, because the greater the man, the greater the danger, the more is the Evil One set on his destruction, and decoys him with either riches or beautiful women; the Evil One has tools for the work at hand.

And, therefore, my advice to you is, so long as you do not know what is happening there, forget! If you earn your livelihood with the onions, well and good, and if, heaven forbid, you cannot, I can give you other advice. If you come to the wedding, I will make it all right between you and my wife. We are, after all, one family, and you know that my wife, Eva Gutel, is really very good-natured; she is sure to forgive you, and when all is smooth again and she goes to Warsaw, after the wedding, then you will remain here and be house-mistress. And when, please G.o.d, she comes back cured, she will still find a place for you at the table and a bed in the house. Times are bad, but a sister is a sister, and one cuts the herring into thinner slices.

But beside all that we have a mighty G.o.d--shall He not be able to feed one of His creatures?--and that a woman!