I couldn’t figure out what she meant! Nu, you are something of an expert on Tevye’s daughters. You should have seen her at her wedding — a princess! I glowed with pride and marveled. Was this really Beilke, Tevye’s daughter? Where had she learned to stand like that, to walk like that, and to hold her head and to dress as if she had been poured into her clothes? But I couldn’t bask in my pride too long, because the same day as the wedding, around half past six in the evening, the couple drove off in a carriage, who knows where, maybe to Italy, as was the custom with the rich, and they didn’t come back till Chanukah, when they sent for me to come as soon as possible to Yehupetz.
All right, if they wanted me to pay them a visit in Yehupetz, they only had to say so, and that would have been the end of it. But why did they want me to come as soon as possible? There had to be a reason! But what was it? Maybe they were fighting like cats and were on the point of divorcing? But I put that idea away, scolding myself for only thinking the worst. How should I know why they wanted me to come as soon as possible? Maybe they missed me and wanted to see me. Or maybe Beilke wanted her father to be near her. Or maybe Podhotsur wanted to give Tevye a job or make him a supervisor in one of his enterprises. In any case, I had to go, and I set out “as soon as possible” for Yehupetz.
As I was driving along, my imagination took over. I pictured myself leaving the village and selling the cows, the horse and wagon, and everything to become a supervisor for Podhotsur, then a treasurer, then the overseer of all his estates, then an equal partner in all his affairs, half and half, fifty-fifty, riding around with him all over with his steeds, one a chestnut, one a dapple gray. But then I thought it over. What is this and what is it all for—what did I, a quiet little fellow like Tevye, have to do with such grand businesses? Who needed all the fuss and bother and noise of the marketplace, all day and all night? As it is said, So that He may set him with princes—rub elbows with millionaires? Leave me be. I want to have a peaceful old age, take time to look into the Holy Book, read a few chapters, a few Psalms. You have to think about the world to come, no? How did King Solomon put it? A person is nothing but a jackass and forgets that however long he lives, he must still die.
When I reached Yehupetz, I went straight to Podhotsur’s place. Well, if I were to brag to you about the multitude of his riches and wealth, his home and its furnishings, I could go on and on. I have never had the honor of going to Brodsky’s, but nothing could have been finer or more beautiful than this Podhotsur’s home. What a mansion it was! When I arrived at the door, the doorman, a huge man with silver buttons, refused to let me in. What was going on? It was a glass door, and I could see him, curse him, brushing clothes. I winked at him, gestured to him in sign language to let me in, trying to get across that his master’s wife was my daughter. But he didn’t understand my meaning, the idiot, and signaled me to go away. What a shlimazel! To think you needed special documents to visit your own daughter! Woe unto you, Tevye, to have lived to see this!
I looked through the glass door again and saw a servant girl dusting. It must have been one of their chambermaids, I thought, because she had mischievous eyes. All chambermaids have mischievous eyes. I have visited many wealthy homes and know about chambermaids. I winked at her. “Open up, little kitten!”
She obeyed, opened the door, and said, surprisingly in Yiddish, “Whom do you want to see?”
“Does Podhotsur live here?” I said.
“Whom do you want to see?” she said more loudly.
I raised my voice. “If someone asks you a question, you should answer the first time. Does Podhotsur live here?”
“Da,” she said.
“Now you’re talking like one of us. Go tell your Madame Podhotsur that she has a guest. Her father Tevye has come to visit and has been waiting outside like a beggar at the door because that lummox with the silver buttons who isn’t worth your little fingernail didn’t consider him worthy of admission!”
With a mischievous laugh, the girl slammed the door in my face. She ran upstairs, then came back down and let me in. It was a palace that my father’s fathers never dreamed of in their wildest dreams: silk and satin and gold and crystal. When you walked, you felt like you were stepping on nothing, because your muddy boots trod on expensive carpets as soft as snow. And the clocks, oh the clocks! On the walls, on the tables — no end of clocks! God Almighty! Why did a person need so many clocks? I wondered, walking on, my hands clasped behind me.
In one room I saw several Tevyes coming toward me and going away from me. Tphoo! Mirrors on all four walls! Only a contractor like this Podhotsur could have afforded so many clocks and mirrors!
Podhotsur was a stout man, round, with a bald head and a loud voice and a squeaky little laugh. I remembered the first time he came to me at home, with his big steeds. He spread himself out in a chair as if he owned it and met my Beilke, then called me over and whispered in my ear, but so loudly you could have heard him on the other side of Yehupetz. What did he whisper? That my daughter was pleasing to him and he wanted to marry her, one two three.
Well, that my daughter was pleasing to him was understandable, but the one two three was like a dull knife in my heart. Where did I come into the picture, and where was Beilke in all of it? Oh, I felt like sticking him with a few good commentaries and interpretations so he would never forget me! But I reconsidered. Why am I thus? — why interfere when it’s something between children? A lot of good it did me with my older daughters when I gave them advice about their matches! I talked and I talked, I advised and advised, poured out the whole Torah — and who ended up the fool? Tevye!
In short, as you say in your books, let’s put aside the hero and get to the heroine. When I visited them in Yehupetz, the fun began.
“Sholem aleichem! Aleichem sholem! How is it going?” Podhotsur greeted me. “What’s the good news? Sit down!”
“Thank you, I can stand.” And we made all the customary niceties.
To ask Why is this day different from other days? — why did you send for me? — could not have been proper. Tevye is not a woman; he has patience. Then a servant wearing large white gloves announced that supper was ready. We rose and went into an oak-paneled room with an oak table, oak chairs, and an oak ceiling, everything trimmed and painted and lacquered and decorated. On the table, fit for a king, were tea and coffee and chocolate, butter pastries, good cognac, the best smoked fish, and platters of fruits and nuts. Embarrassed, I realized that my Beilke had never seen such a spread on her father’s table. They poured glass after glass of wine for toasts to me. I drank and looked over at Beilke. I’d lived to see the day when God helped the poor and lifteth the needy out of the dunghill. But my Beilke was not to be recognized. She looked something like Beilke, but not really. I compared the Beilke of long ago with the Beilke I was seeing now, and it gave me a terrible feeling of regret, as if I had made a big mistake, made a bad bargain, as if I had traded in my prize colt for a nag of a horse, not knowing what it would become.
Ach, Beilke, Beilke, I thought. What has become of you? Do you remember how you used to sit at night under a smoky lamp and sew and sing a song? In the wink of an eye you could milk two cows, or roll up your sleeves and cook a plain dairy borscht, or taiglach with beans, or cheese dumplings, or poppyseed pockets, and say to me, “Papa, go wash up!” That was the best song I ever heard! Now she was sitting with her Podhotsur like a princess, with two servants waiting on the table, dishes clattering. And Beilke — did she speak so much as a word? He, Podhotsur, did the talking for both of them. His mouth never shut! As long as I’ve lived, I’ve never seen a person who so loved to yammer a blue streak about who knew what, all the time laughing his funny little laugh. We say of a person like that: “he tells the joke, and he does the laughing.”