Stempenyu: A Jewish Romance

by Sholem Aleichem

  “Perhaps I ought to go down the street in which Isaac-Naphtali lives. I may see her there,” thought Stempenyu. And, he walked along slowly until he came to the open window, behind which Rochalle was sitting, absorbed in a brown study, and singing softly to herself the well-known little song which she used tossing long ago, when she found joy in singing, and was not yet aware of the awfulness of doing what she liked in that matter.

  “Alone—alone!

  Lonely as a stone!

  I have no one to talk to;

  But, to myself alone!

  Lonely as a stone!

  I have no one to talk to!”

  When Rochalle heard Stempenyu’s “Good Sabbath!” and saw him standing before her, she thought that she was dreaming; for, she had already grown accustomed to seeing Stempenyu in her dreams. But, when she found the music-sheet in her hand, she saw that he had really been and gone again. She read the letter through, got up from her seat, glanced furtively through the window, and said to herself: “It’s well for him that he has run away. I would have told him what is what. There’s an idea for you! Stempenyu, all of a sudden!”

  She caught up the letter, and was about to throw it out the window; but, she checked herself in the nick of time. She read it carefully a second time, folded it and put it in her pocket.

  Her anger increased each moment. She would have liked to see Stempenyu, and to ask him face to face what he meant by such conduct, and what name one might give to it. It was the height of impudence to write such a letter. Who was she, and who was he, that he might treat her so shamelessly?

  She began to make plans to meet him, preferably in some quiet place where no one would see them—where she might talk to him, without interruption or fear, and tell him in full what she thought of him. And, a most ingenious plan came into her mind!

  XIX A STRING OF CORALS

  “Listen, aunt,” said Rochalle to her mother-in-law the morning after she had received Stempenyu’s letter. She called Dvossa-Malka “aunt” on special occasions. “If they were not too dear I should like to get a string of corals—good, heavy corals.”

  “Well, I told you many times to go over to Freidel Stempenyu, and see what she has got. Pick out whatever you like. If you wish, I will go with you. She will give me the corals cheaper than you.”

  Black Freidel, who now occupied herself regularly with money-lending, and with taking all sorts of goods in pawn, principally jewelry, had ceased to regard her dealings as a mere side-issue. She now looked upon her business as the first interest in her life. She also took to buying and selling the thins which were brought to her as pledges. She gradually refused to do anything for the poor but buy their goods, and so compelled them to give her everything for next to nothing. And, along with this, she bought and sold in the ordinary way also, dealing with the people in the villages around Tasapevka as well as with her immediate neighbors. And, everyone knew that a good string of corals, or anything else that was costly, could be bought of her—of Freidel, the wife of the famous musician Stempenyu.

  It was remarkable how clever Freidel was in this business. She understood the value of a thing at first glance, and could talk anyone into buying not what they wished to buy but what she wished to sell them.

  When Dvossa-Malka and Rochalle came into her house, she greeted them with a smile. “And, how are you, Dvossa-Malka? You know that I have been wanting to see you this long while back?”

  “What for, Freidel?”

  “What for, you ask. It’s more than a year since your son brought home the beautiful creature that is his wife. And—nothing! You never once brought her to me to let her pick out something suitable to a woman of her great beauty, Ah, Dvossa-Malka, I am ashamed of you.”

  “You are quite right, Freidel. But, am I to blame if my daughter-in-law does not want a string of corals, or anything else?”

  “That’s news for you! What do you mean by saying she doesn’t want corals! To you it may be all right; but, to me it is all wrong. I would soon persuade her into wanting them!”

  And, Freidel proceeded to open a large chest, painted green, from which she drew forth one row of corals after the other, making profuse apologies, and explaining everything in detail, and at great length. And, as she held up for inspection the various ornaments, she kept up a running comment on the many blessings that she wished to fall upon her if they were as she said of them, and of the many curses which were bound to come upon her, if she was exaggerating. She was exactly like all the other business women of the district.

  “Do you see, Dvossa-Malka, if you took my advice you would tell your daughter-in-law to take this particular string of corals. May I be as free from evil, and you too, if you can get better corals than these anywhere—real Oriental corals. Excuse me, Rochalle, but I should like to put them around your neck. May I have as good a year as they are just the thing for you. They are the exact thing for your white throat. Wear them in good health; and next year, I hope and trust that your mother-in-law will be able to afford to buy you a set of five rows of such corals—each coral twice the size of those that are now around your neck! Ah, how well they match the pink of your cheeks!”

  “Say yourself,” she added, turning again to Dvossa-Malka; “say yourself, you who are as good a judge of corals as anyone I ever came across, are not these perfect? I can only wish to have as perfect a year, as beautiful a year, if it pleases the Lord to grant it me!”

  When she finished speaking, Freidel took a little mirror out of the chest and held it up so that Rochalle might see herself and the corals. And, Freidel’s green eyes glittered with the success of her efforts. But, at the same time, she was bathed in sweat through having to talk so much, and at such great length, and more especially because she had to swear so many round oaths.

  “And, your Stempenyu goes on his with work?” Dvossa-Malka, pointing her finger at the door of his room, from which came forth a series of sweet sounds.

  “Yes, he is playing in there,” replied Freidel, as she went on showing them other strings of corals. And, between her and Dvossa-Malka there ensued a heated argument, such as is usual between women when they start talking of trade.

  Rochalle sat on one side, and though she was close to them she heard not a word of what they were saying. She heard something else—sweet sounds totally unlike the words that were being exchanged between Freidel and Dvossa-Malka. She was listening to the glorious outpourings of Stempenyu’s heart as they were expressed in the fiddle. They penetrated to the depths of her soul at once. She felt like rooted to the spot so long as the music continued. She only stirred when it ceased, and when Stempenyu was standing in the door of his room. Their eyes met, and they both grew red as fire. Stempenyu remained where he was. He did not move an inch one way or the other. He was like a statue. And, Rochalle looked at him in silence. She said to her mother-in-law that it was time to go home. Dvossa-Malka caught on at once. She wrung her hands and exclaimed:

  “May a thunder strike me! See how we have been carried away with our talk. Well, what will you take from me for the corals, Freidel? You must not charge me dear, Freidel. With me you ought to deal as with a business woman.”

  “On my word of honor, Dvossa-Malka—may I be choked as with the first bite I eat if I am telling you a lie—I had to pay eighteen roubles myself for that row of corals; but, Dvossa-Malka, I will let you have them for fifteen roubles.

  “Fifteen! Rubbish! Fifteen! I will give you twelve roubles, cash down.”

  “Oh, may you be strong and healthy, Dvossa-Malka,” was Freidel’s answer, speaking with much warmth, and taking Dvossa-Malka by both hands, as women take hold of one another when they are going to dance.

  Meanwhile, Rochalle and Stempenyu took advantage of the opportunity they now had to exchange a few words.

  “I wish to say something to you, Stempenyu.”

  “And I wish to say something to you, Rochalle.”

  “You have said it already.”

  “When?”

&n
bsp; “In your letter.”

  “It was too little.”

  “It was too much.”

  “No, not by a hundredth part too much.”

  “You are mistaken.”

  “I swear to you by my life. Where can I see you?”

  “I do not know where we can meet.”

  “Perhaps one evening.”

  “Where?”

  “On the Monastery Road.”

  “What time?”

  “On Saturday evening. You will come from the other side of the monastery garden.”

  “I cannot, I will not.”

  “You must, Rochalle. I beg of you to come and meet me for a minute. Be thou there. I will be there surely. Saturday evening without fail, Rochalle.”

  “I will not be there.”

  “You will be there, Rochalle—you will.”

  “Well daughter,” put in Dvossa-Malka at this juncture, “let us go home. Come! I have just managed to get the corals for fourteen roubles. Oh, I never thought that Freidel was such a keen business woman.”

  “Oh, Dvossa-Malka, God preserve you! You know how to secure a bargain. I wish you a good day. Go in peace! Wear it in peace! Use it in peace, and break it in peace!”

  “To the devil with her! How she excited me!” said Freidel to Stempenyu, as she stood near him after having closed the door behind Rochalle and Dvossa-Malka. “And, she, the daughter-in-law—the white devil—sat quite still and silent. And, the corals suited her as a nose ring suits a swine!”

  XX THE CORALS AGAIN

  When Rochalle arrived home with the string of corals still hanging about her neck, where Freidel had put them, her mother-in-law, Dvossa-Malka, brought her over to Isaac-Naphtali, with a smile of satisfaction, as if she had just achieved goodness only knew what victory.

  “What do you say to these corals, Isaac-Naphtali?” she asked. “They are a bargain—a real bargain!”

  Isaac-Naphtali poked his head forward so that he might scrutinize the corals with greater care—with the alert eyes of a connoisseur. He sniffed with an air of mild caution and asked:

  “What did you pay for them? How much?”

  “Guess. Give a guess. You consider yourself a judge—then guess,” said Dvossa-Malka, smiling at him significantly.

  “I don’t know whether you mean me to say how cheap or how dear they were.”

  “Didn’t I tell you I bought them at a bargain, fool? A desperate bargain. You can just imagine that they were a bargain when I tell you that I had to sweat and toil before I got them out of that terrible Freidel, the wife of the musician. She knows how to fight for a kopek. The devil only knows where she learned how to do it. And, she has a tongue that is like sulfur and brimstone. And, when she is talking to a customer she wails and weeps—the devil take her—the Stempenyu woman! Nu! Speak, Isaac Naphtali. Let me hear your verdict! Well, why are you silent? Tell me what you think these corals ought to cost.”

  “What these corals ought to have cost you, you want to know,” was Isaac-Naphtali’s reply, as he took the ends of his beard and bit them between his teeth. They ought to have cost you—wait, let me try to guess accurately. I do not want to make a fool of myself. You said a bargain—didn’t you? If you got them a bargain you ought to have paid for them no less than six and a half roubles. But, they are worth the whole seven.

  “Idiot!” shrieked Dvossa-Malka in a voice that was loud as cannon-shot. At this Isaac-Naphtali took fright and shrunk away to one side. “You idiot! You beast with a horse’s face! A row of corals like this for six and a half roubles. Mad fool! A dumb creature would not have uttered such stupid words in a year as you who can speak have uttered just now. Have you got eyes or have you not? Here! Look at them again, you fool! You plucked idiot you!”

  And, Dvossa-Malka took Rochalle by the hand and led her over to Isaac-Naphtali. She lifted Rochalle’s head so that the corals might be seen all the plainer. And, while Isaac-Naphtali was examining them for the second time, she thrust at him again and again with her biting sarcasm. Isaac-Naphtali, poor man! only sniffed hard and blinked his eyes. He was afraid to say a word. But, Heaven had pity on him, and at that moment sent in Moshe-Mendel, stick in hand. He had just come from the market, and was still full of bargains and bargaining. Without a moment’s hesitation, he took to valving the corals which were hanging around Rochalle’s beautiful white throat. He said that they must have cost, at the very least, three roubles, at which Dvossa-Malka was so enraged that she burst out crying like a little child. No one had appreciated the wonderful bargain she had secured at such great pains. And, it may be that she cried also because of the heartache which had smitten her at the thought she had been fooled by Freidel.

  “You are indeed a clever merchant,” she said at last to Moshe-Mendel. “You are quite as clever as that father of yours. Why three roubles? Why not less?”

  “Because they are worth no more. Because the corals are poor in quality. I have seen corals, mother—I’ve seen a fine lot of strings of corals, I can tell you. And I know.”

  And, throughout the whole of that day the three of them fought and argued and disputed about the value of the corals.

  “If he had short me in the heart with a pistol,” wailed Dvossa-Malka, “I should not have been so hurt as I was when I heard the words, ‘six and a half’! Let it be that the woman did fool me. (And nobody has ever fooled me yet.) Let it be that she did fool me! May she and Stempenyu together have a black year! But, what good is it to throw salt on another’s wounds? What good has it done him that he came out with ‘six and a half’? May she have six and a half dozen wounds on her body! I will get back from her my money, if I have to drag it out of her as one drags a bone from the mouth of a dog! But, just picture to yourself how he had the heart—the check to bring himself to say, ‘six and a half’!”

  The whole scene was so despicable to Rochalle that she snatched off the corals the very instant she found herself alone in her own room. And, she made up her mind that she would never wear them again as long as she lived. More than all, she was annoyed with Moshe-Mendel because he had been so much taken up with the value of the corals that he had never even looked at her or taken notice of her, thought he looked at the corals that were around her neck with great care. He never even said to her, after the usual custom, “Rochalle, I wish you well to wear them!” The three of them had dragged her backwards and forwards all day long, looking at the corals, just as if they could not have examined them if she had taken them off. They seemed to regard her as of no more value than a cow that one takes to the market. Each of them in turn went over to her and raised her head, and felt the corals, and scrutinized them with narrow eyes. But, they all forgot about Rochalle herself. Though she was not by nature either hot tempered or ill-natured, she stormed inwardly at everybody, especially at Moshe-Mendel who afterwards took his supper with the utmost unconcern. Then he went off to the House of Learning, where there was a meeting, from which he did not return till the small hours of the morning, as had happened with him many times before.

  Rochalle was very excited. Her face was aflame, her head was dizzy, and in her ears was a hissing and a singing. She did not know what had come over her. And, to crown her suffering, Dvossa-Malka was standing over her, and driving her mad with questions. She was pressing her to eat and drink, and was not satisfied with Rochalle’s refusals, but demanded to know the why and the wherefore. But, Rochalle refused to eat or drink, and also refused to open her lips. When she found herself alone, at last, she had a good cry. Later on, when she got into bed, it was only to weep afresh. The tears gushed from her eyes in a torrent—warm, hot tears that seemed as if they would never cease to fall.

  XXI A HEAVY NIGHT

  What was Rochalle weeping for? She did not know why she was weeping. She hardly knew that she wept. Her heart had been heavy for some time past—very heavy; and now, at the first opportunity, it seemed to overflow, and to send forth a stream of tears. She felt so lonely, and sad, and forsaken. She wanted someth
ing, but she did not know what, nor could she know. In reflecting on everything connecting with her past life, she had to admit that her parents had married her off in order to get rid of her. And, the word “rid” was in itself sufficient to bring the tears to her eyes all over again.

  It is a word which is used very often amongst us Jews, and in nearly every family. It is a shameful word, and carries in itself the essence of all that is most strongly opposed to the spirit of our glorious faith which is founded on compassion and kindness.

  But, more than all, Rochalle was heartily sick of Moshe-Mendel, and his ways, and his attitude towards her. She realized to the full what part she was playing in his life, despite of her beauty and her goodness, and her honesty. She saw now clearly, and for the first time, what she was to him.

  Then, too, she herself had been confused and harassed and excited of late. It was of no trifling matter what she had had to endure through the importunities of Stempenyu. The pious, God-fearing Rochalle, who had never wished and never dared to ignore the most insignificant Jewish law or custom relating to the conduct of women—the same Rochalle who had most positively based her life on the books of Faith which were especially written for Jewish women—she now carried about in her heart the image of a strange man, received letters and met with him, without a single pang of conscience. On the contrary she felt herself being drawn towards Stempenyu, more and more. She wished to see him, to talk with him, and to listen to him as he played his fiddle. Oh, how he played! She felt that she would be quite satisfied not to eat and not to sleep anymore, if she could only go on listening to him, and if she were sure of seeing him always. His eyes, when they fell on her, seemed to warm her, and at the same time to soothe and to fascinate her! Ah, those burning eyes of his!