“What brought me here? Why, my feet,” he says, sitting down on the grass and glancing at my girls, who were busy with the jugs and cans. “I’ve been meaning to drop by for a while, Reb Tevye, but I haven’t had a free moment. As soon as I finish one piece of work, it’s time to start on another. I’m in business for myself now and thank God there’s plenty of it — in fact, all we tailors are swamped. There’s been nothing but weddings all summer long. First Berl Fonfatsh married off his daughter; then Yosl Sheygetz; then Yankl Piskatsh; then Moyshe Gorgel; then Meir Kropeve; then Chayim Lushik; why, even Trihobikhe the Widow has gone and gotten herself hitched.”
“It certainly looks like the whole world is marrying,” I said. “I must be the only one not throwing a wedding this summer. I suppose God is too busy for one more.”
“Not at all, Reb Tevye,” he says, eyeing my girls again. “You’re wrong there. You can have a wedding whenever you want. It’s entirely up to you.”
“Just what are you trying to tell me?” I asked. “You don’t happen to have a match for my Tsaytl, do you?”
“One just her size!” he says in tailor talk.
“A serious proposal?” I say, thinking: bless my soul if he isn’t about to offer me Layzer Wolf the butcher!
“The perfect fit!” he says with another look at my girls.
“Where does this match of yours come from?” I ask him. “I’m warning you right now that if he smells of the meat counter, I don’t want to hear another word!”
“God forbid!” he says. “There’s not an ounce of meat on him. As a matter of fact, Reb Tevye, it’s someone you know well.”
“And you’re sure it’s on the up-and-up?” I say.
“Why, it’s so far up it’s heavenly!” he says. “It’s a dream — custom-made and alterations free.”
“In that case,” I say, “perhaps I can ask you who it is.”
“Who is it?” he says, stealing a sideways glance once more. “The match I have in mind for you, Reb Tevye, is none other than myself.”
I wouldn’t have jumped to my feet any faster if he had poured boiling water over me. He jumped up too, and we stood facing each other like a pair of fighting cocks.
“Are you crazy?” I said. “Since when can you be the matchmaker, the father-in-law, and the groom all rolled into one? I suppose you want to be the rabbi and the bandleader too! I never in all my life heard of a young man making matches for himself.”
“All your enemies, Reb Tevye,” he says, “should be as crazy as you think I am. You can take my word for it that they don’t come any saner than me. In fact, it’s a sign of my sanity that I want to marry your Tsaytl — and the proof is that even the richest Jew in Anatevka, Layzer Wolf, wants to take her off your hands free of charge. Do you think that’s a secret? Why, the whole town knows about it! And as for what you say about a matchmaker, I’m surprised at you, Reb Tevye. I wouldn’t have thought that a Jew like yourself had to be spoon-fed … But why beat around the bush? The truth of the matter is that your daughter Tsaytl and I decided to get married a year ago.”
I tell you, he might as well have knifed me in the heart! In the first place, how could a tailor boy like Motl even dream of being my son-in-law? And in the second place, what kind of decided to get married a year ago?
“Well,” I said to him, “and just where does that leave me? Did it ever occur to you that I might also be asked — that I might happen to have an opinion on my daughter’s future too?”
“Of course it did,” he says. “That’s why I’m here, to ask you. As soon as I heard that Layzer Wolf was interested in your daughter, who I’ve been in love with for over a year, as you know—”
“So far,” I say, “all I know is that Tevye has a daughter named Tsaytl and that you’re Motl Komzoyl the tailor boy. But what do you have against her that you want to marry her?”
“You don’t understand,” he says. “I’m not just telling you that I love your daughter. I’m telling you that she loves me too. It’s been over a year since we swore to be husband and wife. I had meant to talk to you about it long ago, but I kept putting it off until I had saved up a few rubles to buy a sewing machine and outfit myself properly, because anyone who’s anyone these days owns at least two suits and a pair of matching vests …”
“Tfu!” I said. “A child like you ought to be spanked. What exactly do you propose to live on after the wedding — the money you’ll get from pawning your stomachs, since you won’t be needing them anyway? Or do you plan to feed your wife matching vests?”
“Reb Tevye, I’m amazed at you,” he says. “I don’t believe you had a house to call your own when you were married, either — and yet just look at you now! What’s good enough for other Jews is good enough for me. And besides, I have a profession …”
Well, to make a long story short, he talked me into it. After all, why pretend: what do most Jewish children have in the bank when they marry? If everyone acted sensibly, there wouldn’t be a Jewish wedding in the world.
One thing still bothered me, though: I simply couldn’t understand how they had decided such a thing on their own. What has the world come to when a boy meets a girl and says to her, “Let’s you and I get married, just the two of us”? You’d think it was as simple as eating an onion!.. But when I saw my Motl standing there with his head bowed contritely, looking so serious and sincere, I couldn’t help thinking that maybe I had the wrong attitude. What was I being so snooty about and who did I think I was, the great-grandson of Rabbi Tsatskeleh of Pripichek? One might suppose I was giving my daughter a huge dowry and buying her a grand trousseau … Motl Komzoyl may be only a tailor, I thought, but he’s a fine, hardworking boy who’ll support his family, and he’s as honest as the day is long, why look down on him? Tevye, I said to myself, stop hemming and hawing and sign on the dotted line! How does the Bible put it? Solakhti kidvorekho—congratulations and good luck to you both!
But what was I going to do about the wife? I was sure to get it in the neck from her unless I could make her see the light. “You know what, Motl?” I said to my future son-in-law. “You go home and leave the rest of it to me. There’s one or two people I need to have a word with. As it says in the Book of Esther, vehashtiyoh kedos—there’s a right and a wrong way to do everything. Tomorrow, God willing, if you haven’t changed your mind, you and I will meet again …”
“Changed my mind?” he says. “I should change my mind? May sticks and stones break all my bones if I do a thing like that!”
“There’s no need for oaths,” I say, “because I believe you without them. Now run along home, and sweet dreams …”
And with that I went to bed too. But I couldn’t fall asleep. I was thinking so hard of plan after plan that I was afraid my head would explode. Until finally I hit on the right one. What was it? Be patient and you’ll hear what a brainstorm Tevye had.
In a word, in the middle of the night, when the whole house was sound asleep, snoring and whistling to wake the dead, I suddenly sat up in bed and began to shout at the top of my voice, “Help! Help! For God’s sake, help!”
Everyone woke up, of course, and quickest of all, my wife Golde. “My God, Tevye,” she said, shaking me, “wake up! What is it? What are you screaming for?”
I opened my eyes, glanced all around as though looking for someone, and gasped in a trembling voice, “Where is she?”
“Where is who?” asks my wife. “Who are you looking for?”
“For Frume Soreh,” I say. “Layzer Wolf’s Frume Soreh was just here.”
“You must have a fever,” she says. “God help you, Tevye, Layzer Wolf’s Frume Soreh passed away years ago.”