Along with the three of us, another person sat at the table: a man with red cheeks whom I didn’t know, but he certainly was a good eater. While Podhotsur was talking and laughing, this man packed away food, as it is written in the chapters: He ate for three. As we ate, Podhotsur talked about boring things in which I had no interest whatsoever: estates, construction contracts, government ministries, specifications, Japan. Actually Japan interested me, because during the war, as you know, horses became very scarce. They had searched me out and confiscated my horse. They took his measurements, rode him back and forth, and then sent him back. I could have told them they’d be wasting their time. As it is said in Proverbs, A righteous man knows the soul of his beast—Tevye’s horse is not made for war. But pardon me, Pani Sholem Aleichem, I’m mixing up two things and might confuse you. As you say, let’s get to the point.
We ate and drank up very nicely as God commanded, and when we got up from the table, Podhotsur took me by the arm and led me into an office fit for a king, with guns and swords on the walls and miniature cannons on the table.
He sat me down on a divan as soft as butter. Removing from a gold humidor two fat aromatic cigars, he lit one for himself and one for me. Then he sat down opposite me, stretched out his legs, and said, “Do you know why I sent for you?”
Aha! I thought. He probably wanted to talk to me about business. But I played dumb. “Am I my brother’s keeper? How should I know?”
“I really wanted to talk to you about yourself,” he said.
A job offer, I thought. “So long as it’s something good, whatever it is, let’s hear,” I said.
Podhotsur removed the cigar from his teeth and began a whole lecture. “You are no fool,” he said, “and won’t be insulted by what I will say frankly. You must know I deal in big businesses, and when you deal in big businesses as I do. .”
Yes, I thought, he meant me. I interrupted him. “Just as it says in the Gemorah in the Shabbes chapter, Many possessions, many worries. Do you know the meaning of that Gemorah?”
“I will tell you the absolute truth,” he said. “I have never studied the Gemorah and don’t even know what it looks like.” He laughed.
Can you imagine? One would think that if God had so punished him and made him an ignoramus, he would at least be ashamed and not boast about it. But I just said, “Let’s hear what you have to say.”
“What I have to say,” he said, “is this. When it comes to my businesses and my reputation and my public position, it doesn’t look good when they call you Tevye the dairyman. You must know,” he said, “that I am a close friend of the governor of the province, and sometimes a Brodsky comes calling at my house, a Polyakov, and maybe even a Rothschild, do you see?”
I looked at his shiny bald head. He might be a close friend of the governor, I thought, and a Rothschild might come to his house, but he talked like an ignoramus.
“What can you do if Rothschild insists on coming?” I said with a little resentment.
Do you think he got that dig? Not a chance!
“I want you to get rid of your dairy business and take up something else,” he said.
“All right, what do you have in mind?”
“Whatever you want,” he said. “There are plenty of businesses in the world. I’ll help you out with money, as much as you need, so long as you quit being Tevye the dairyman. Maybe you could leave one two three for America, huh?” He shoved the cigar between his teeth and looked me right in the eye, his bald head shining.
Nu, what do you say to such a coarse fellow? At first I thought, Why are you sitting here, Tevye, like a block of wood? Get up, kiss the mezuzah, slam the door behind you, and leave without a goodbye! That’s how enraged I was by his comments! The nerve of that contractor! Who did he think he was, telling me to throw away an honest, respectable livelihood and go to America? Because Rothschild might visit him, Tevye the dairyman had to go who knows where?
I had already been upset because of my Beilke, but now my blood was boiling like a kettle. May I have as many blessings, I thought, as Hodl had it better than Beilke! True, Hodl doesn’t have a house like this, with such finery, but still and all she has a husband, a Fefferl, who is a mensch, hardworking, relying only on himself, while all of humanity is his concern. And in addition, he has a head on his shoulders, not a noodle-pot of a bald pate. Fefferl can talk, and what he says is pure gold! If you mention a biblical quote to him, he gives you three interpretations. Just wait, my contractor, I thought, and I’ll give you a quote that will knock you over!
I said to him, “Well, that the Gemorah is for you a secret, I forgive you. For a Jew living in Yehupetz named Podhotsur, a contractor, the Gemorah might just as well lie in the attic. But some quotes can be understood even by an ordinary Gentile. I’m sure you know what the Targum Unkles says about Laban the Aramite?” And I threw him a quotation in mixed Hebrew and Russian.
Looking like a surprised rooster, he said, “What does that mean?” “It means that from a pig’s tail you cannot make a rabbi’s fur hat.”
“What is your point?”
“My point has to do with your telling me to go to America.”
He laughed that silly laugh. “If not to America, maybe go to Eretz Yisroel. All old Jews go to Eretz Yisroel.”
I felt as if an iron spike had been driven into my brain. Sha! Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe it was an idea. Considering the kind of pleasure I’d had from children, I thought, Eretz Yisroel might be better. Idiot! Why was I staying around here, and for whom? My Golde, may she rest in peace, was already in the ground, and I was halfway there. How long could I keep struggling?
Besides, Pani Sholem Aleichem, I’ve always been drawn to Eretz Yisroel. I’ve longed to be at the Wailing Wall and at the tomb of the Patriarchs, at Mother Rachel’s Tomb, and to see the River Jordan, Mount Sinai, the Dead Sea, the cities of Pithom and Ramses, and other such places with my own eyes. My imagination carried me away to the blessed land of Canaan, the land flowing with milk and honey.
Podhotsur cut me off in the middle of my reverie. “Well? Why do you need to think so long? Make it one two three!”
“To you,” I said, “everything is one two three. But for me it’s a big decision, because to pick up and go to Eretz Yisroel I’d need to have the means.”
He snickered, stood up, and went over to a table. Withdrawing a metal box, he counted out one bill after another — just imagine, a fine sum. I wasted no time, gathered up the bills — oh, the power of money — and stuck them deep in my pocket.
I wanted to share at least a couple of commentaries and quotes with him, but he wasn’t about to hear them. “This will be more than enough to get there, and when you arrive and need more money, write a letter, and one two three we will send you money. And about your leaving, I won’t need to remind you again because you are an honorable and honest man.” Then Podhotsur laughed that laugh that made me sick to my stomach.
Maybe I should throw the money back in his face, I thought. You didn’t buy Tevye with money, and with Tevye you didn’t talk of honesty and being honorable. But before I could open my mouth, he rang for Beilke.