Nor did Hodl lose her dignity. She answered every question I asked, quietly, unhurriedly, thoughtfully. Tevye’s daughters know how to speak.
And though my head was bowed and my eyes were lowered, I could see Hodl — her face was like the moon, pale and round, and her voice was muted, trembling. Should I throw my arms around her, beg her, plead with her not to leave? But it would be useless. Those daughters of mine — when they fall in love, it’s with body and soul and heart and life itself!
As you can imagine, we sat on the stoop quite a while, almost through the night, more silent than speaking, and when we spoke, it was almost like not speaking — no more than a word here, a word there. I asked her, whoever heard of a girl getting married to a boy for the sake of following him to the ends of the earth?
And she answered me: “With him it doesn’t matter. I will go anywhere with him, even to the ends of the earth.” I tried to explain with logic, as usual, how foolish that was. Then she explained to me with her logic that I will never understand. So I told her a parable about a hen that hatched ducklings. As soon as the ducklings were able to stand on their legs, they jumped into the water and swam away, while the poor hen stood there clucking. “What do you say to that, my dear daughter?”
“What can I say? It’s certainly a pity for the hen. But because the hen stood there clucking, is that a reason the ducklings shouldn’t swim?”
Do you appreciate those words? Tevye’s daughter spoke to the point.
Meanwhile time wasn’t standing still. Day was breaking, and my wife was stirring in the house. Several times she sent someone out to us, to say it was time for bed, but it did no good. So she stuck her head out of the window and said to me, with her usual fine blessing, “Tevye, what are you still doing out there?”
“Be quiet, Golde,” I said. “As it says in the Psalms: Why do the heathens rage! — you’ve forgotten that it’s Hoshana Raba today? That’s the day when our fates are decided and the verdict is sealed. So you must stay up. Listen to me, Golde,” I said, “please go and light the samovar, and let us have tea while I hitch up the wagon. I am going with Hodl to the train.”
And once again I manufactured for her a lie, saying that Hodl was going off to Yehupetz, and from there somewhere else, on account of you-know-who’s inheritance. “And it’s possible,” I said, “she’ll remain there all winter and perhaps over winter and summer and another winter. And so we have to give her provisions — some linens, a dress, a pair of pillows, pillowcases, a little of this and that.”
That’s what I ordered Golde to do, and I insisted Hodl and her sisters were not to cry. It was Hoshana Raba. “On this day,” I said, “you’re not allowed to cry. The law definitely prohibits it!” But they paid no attention to the law and did cry, and when it came time to say goodbye, they were all wailing — the mother, the children, and even Hodl herself. And my eldest daughter Tzeitl was also there — she comes to us for the holidays with her Motl Komzoil. Both sisters clasped each other closely — they could hardly be separated.
I alone was like steel and iron. That’s easy to say, steel and iron. Inside I was more like a boiling samovar, but for anyone to see it — feh! Tevye is not a woman.
All the way to Boiberik we were silent, but when we were approaching the train station, I asked her once and for all to tell me what Fefferl had done. “Everything has to have a reason.”
She swore that he was innocent. “He never cares about himself. Everything he does is for the sake of others, for the sake of humanity, especially for those who toil with their hands, the workers.” Now be a sage and try to figure that out!
“So he worries about humanity. Why then,” I said, “doesn’t humanity worry about him if he is such a wonderful person? Please give him my regards, your Alexander of Macedonia. Tell him that I am relying on him as an honorable man not to mistreat my daughter and to make sure she writes an occasional letter to an old father.”
And as I spoke, didn’t she suddenly throw her arms around my neck and start to cry? “Let us say goodbye,” she said. “Be well, Papa. God only knows when we shall see each other again.”
Well, that was too much for me. I could no longer control myself. I remembered this same Hodl when she was still a baby and I held her in my arms. . in my arms. .
Forgive me, Pani, for acting like a woman. I must tell you what sort of daughter Hodl is! You should see the letters she writes. She is a gift from God! She is right here. . right here. . deep, deep. . I cannot begin to say it. .
Do you know what, Pani Sholem Aleichem? Let’s better speak of something happier. What do you hear about the cholera in Odessa?
CHAVA
WRITTEN IN 1906.
Give thanks unto the Lord for He is good. Whatever He ordains is for the best. It has to be for the best, because just try being wiser and making it better! I thought I would be clever, twisting the meaning of the commentaries this way and that, but it made no difference whatsoever. I took my hand away from my heart and said to myself, Tevye, you’re a fool! You can’t change the world. The One Above gave us the great sorrows of child-raising, which means: when children cause you grief, you must count it as love. As an example, take my eldest daughter, Tzeitl, who fell in love with the tailor Motl Komzoil. I have nothing against him. True, he’s a simple soul, doesn’t understand any of the fine points in a text, can’t master the small print. But what can I do? Not everyone can be learned! Still and all, he is an honest person and works hard. They already have a full house of little ones, you should see, kayn eyn horeh, while they both struggle to survive in honor and dignity. When you talk to Tzeitl, she says that she is happy as can be, it couldn’t be better, but there is not enough food. There you have daughter number one.
Well, about my second daughter, Hodl, I don’t need to tell you, you know about her. I lost her — she’s gone forever! Only God knows if my eyes will ever look upon her, unless it’s in the world to come, may it be in a hundred twenty years. To this day, when I talk about Hodl, I cannot calm myself, it’s the end of me! I should forget her, you say? How can you forget a living person, especially a child like Hodl? You should see the letters she writes me; they would make your heart melt. She says things are going very well for them. He is in prison, and she is earning money. She takes in laundry, reads books, and sees him every week. She hopes things will calm down between us, she says. One day the sun will rise and it will be light, and he, along with many others like himself, will be set free, and then they will get down to the real business of turning the world on its head. Nu? How do you like that? Good? Ha! What does the Master of the Universe decide to do? He is, after all, as you say, a merciful and compassionate God. He says to me: “Wait, Tevye, I will make it so you forget all your past troubles!”
And so it was — just listen. I would not tell this to anyone else because the pain is great and the shame is even greater! But as it is written: Shall I hide from Abraham? — do I have any secrets from you? Whatever I live through, I tell you. What then is the problem? I ask but one thing of you: let it remain between us. I tell you again, the pain is great, but the shame, the shame is even greater!
In a word, as it is written in the chapter: The Holy One, blessed be He, wished to grant merit—God wanted to do Tevye a favor, and so He blessed him with seven daughters, all pretty, gifted, healthy, and clever, I tell you, like slender young pine trees! Oy, how I wish they were ugly and bad-tempered. It might have been better for them and healthier for me. What is the good, I ask you, of having a good horse if it stays in its stall? What is the good of having pretty daughters if you are stuck with them in the middle of nowhere? We hardly see a living person except Ivan Poperilo, the Gentile mayor of the town; the writer Chvedka Galagan, a tall Gentile boy with thick hair and high boots; and the priest, may his name be eradicated. I cannot bear to hear his name. Not because I am a Jew and he a priest — on the contrary, we’ve been on friendly terms for many years, not that we would invite each other for celebrations or holidays. It’s just that if we meet, we say good morning, have a good year, what’s new.