Pani Hannah was in love with civilisation, which for her assumed the form of beautiful dresses, her own hair on her head, elegantly furnished rooms, polite relations with her fellow-men, the French language and music. Music was her craze. When they dwelt in a large city she went to the public gardens to listen to it, where, walking with her friends, clad in a rustling silk gown and plumed bat, gazing at handsome men and chatting with amiable women, she felt perfectly happy, and still more proud of her social position. Certain products of civilisation especially caused her rapture. Once, perceiving in a public garden a fountain, she admired it for a couple of hours with inexpressible delight, and on returning to her city, which did not possess a fountain, she talked to her friends during the whole year of that beautiful phenomenon. She was also very fond of mirrors, and when she found herself opposite a large mirror she could not tear her eyes away from it, and especially from the reflected image of herself, which she found very handsome, with her big golden earrings, a hat with flowers on it, and a charming gown. As for religion, she knew still less about it than her husband. She believed in God, and at the bottom of her heart she was even very much afraid of Him, and she believed also in the devil, fearing him even more than God. She also believed that a person who did not see his shadow on a holiday night would die within a year, and even that a person who moved a candle on the Sabbath table would meet with a great misfortune. On the other hand, however, she did not believe many similar things--calling them superstitions. Being a good housekeeper, she acknowledged in the depths of her soul that it would be better if the Jews ate the same meat as the Christians, both because it would be a great deal cheaper, and because there would not be the need in the household of having so many kitchen dishes, which every orthodox household must have in order to keep the food properly kosher. As for the woven stuffs containing a mixture of wool and flax, Pani Hannah closed her eyes and ears to all interdictions, and used them without hesitation, because they were pretty and cheap. When she came to Szybow she was perfectly horrified. There was not one sign of civilisation--no public garden no music, no fountain, not even the shadow of beautiful women and handsome men chatting amiably, no echo of the French language. Good Heavens! Pani Hannah betook herself to bed, and buried herself in feather bolsters for two whole days and nights, lamenting and screaming that she could not stand it, that she would die and make orphans of her children. She did not die, however. She left the bed, because it was necessary to unpack things, to look after the household and dress the children prettily so that when they went into the streets they should astonish by their beauty and fine clothes that--as Pani Hannah expressed it, with a gesture of contempt--"rabble." The children were dressed, went out, and in truth they did astonish everyone. It was the first consolation which the unhappy exile from civilisation received in her place of banishment.
Then came other similar consolations. Pani Hannah tried to amaze in everything she was able--dresses, furniture, manners, speech--and in doing so, she felt extremely happy. In the main, perhaps she was happier than in a large city. There she only looked on civilisation and its products and was proud of being one particle of it. Here she was civilisation itself--the whole sum of the civilisation existing in Szybow.
This love for amazing the people which, after the care of the children and the household, was the first occupation of Pani Hannah's mind, and the source of her greatest happiness caused her husband considerable uneasiness and fear. In the beginning he had heard some murmurs that he was a misnagdim be learned that the popular indignation had been aroused against his wife for wearing woven stuff of mixed flax and wool, and for using a samovar on Sabbath, and for saying that; "Szybow was not on the earth, but under it." When he learned of all these things he quaked with fear, and began to war with his better-half about the stuff of flax and wool, about the use of the samovar on the Sabbath, and about the situation of Szybow. His better-half fought for a long time, but the diplomatic husband was finally victorious regarding the samovar and the stuff. But he could do nothing regarding the situation of Szybow, because Pani Hannah could not but respect the place where she herself lived, in spite of all efforts of her will. Even if she was silent, her disdainfully half-closed eyes, her proudly smiling mouth, always elaborate dress, and her manners full of such exquisite courtesy, made it impossible to find anyone in the whole world more civil than she was, all that was protesting. In the main, Pani Hannah was perfectly happy with her meek, though at times decided husband, with pretty, always beautifully dressed children, and with the sentiment always in her soul that she was superior to everything surrounding her. She had only one great sorrow, and that; was the thought that she would never be able to amaze the inhabitants of Szybow by wearing her own hair; in the first place, because it was too late to make it grow now, and then Eli would never permit such a public scandal. Therefore she was obliged to wear a very pretty wig on her sorrowful head, and she consoled herself with the thought that the occasion of her daughter Mera's return from Wilno would be her greatest triumph. Eli was very uneasy about this, for he feared that he would be accused of being quite different from all the fathers in Szybow. As for Pani Hannah, she was beside herself with joy at the thought that she would be considered a quite different mother from all the other mothers in Szybow.
Finally it was accomplished. In a month after Eli's conversation with Saul there were assembled in Witebski's parlour five persons--two men and three women. And it was not a common parlour! it was ornamented with a sofa, having springs and upholstered in green rep--the only sofa of its kind in Szybow--several armchairs to match it, and a piano. It is true, it was not very new. In several places the varnish had been rubbed off, and the narrowness of the keys and the yellowness of the ivory betrayed its great antiquity. In fact, it was the only piano in the whole of Szybow. When a year ago it had been bought for the exclusive use of Mera, it caused a small revolution in the town and Pani Hannah's heart filled with joy and great pride.
This parlour was also not lacking in lace curtains and several jardinieres in which grew several--to tell the truth--very ugly and badly kept cacti and geraniums. But it happened that a year ago one of the cacti had by some accident bloomed. Pani Hannah immediately placed it in the window looking on the street, and all the children in town came to her house to look at the red flower.
So, then, on the green sofa with springs, sat Pani Hannah and her sister, the wife of a merchant in Wilno, in whose house Mera had boarded during her three years of study at the college. She escorted her niece home personally, bringing with her, in the meanwhile, her son Leopold. Her figure was imposingly like Pani Hannah's. She wore a velvet mantilla, much gold jewellery and her own hair. On either side of the table which stood opposite the sofa, sat the host and Pani Hannah's young nephew Leopold. Mera, a pretty girl, with yellow hair and pale complexion, was hovering about the piano, wishing to touch the keys as soon as possible, and fill the whole house with merry music, but not daring to because it was Sabbath.
Mera knew that it was forbidden to play any musical instrument on Sabbath, but she would not have minded such prohibition had it not been for the glance of her father which followed her and warned her against committing a sin. Neither was it allowed to smoke on the Sabbath, but Leopold, a good-looking, slender youth of about twenty years, sat in the armchair in a very careless position smoking a cigarette, from which thin threads of smoke arose and floated through the open window; Eli rose and shut the window. On Leopold's lips a disdainful smile appeared, Mera shrugged her shoulders, and Pani Hannah blushed with shame.
On a table, on a silver tray, were different dainties prepared from honey--gingerbread, made with honey and poppy-seeds, sweet wine, and various other things. Pani Hannah served her guests with these tit-bits, which completed the dinner, composed of fish cooked the day before, and a cake also baked the day before. But her sister, the wife of the merchant from Wilno, was busy with something quite different from eating sweetmeats. With great admiration she was looking at the beautiful and precious brooches, rings, bracelets, and earrings, shining in their satin boxes. All these jewels were presents of betrothal sent by Saul, in Meir's name, to Mera, immediately following her home-coming. For two days the mother and aunt of the betrothed girl had been looking at them, and they were not yet satisfied. But Leopold's mother was sorry that her son had brought to Lija, his promised wife, presents which were a great deal more modest than those received by Mera from Meir.
"Nu! She is a lucky girl!" she said, tossing her head. "God-gives her true happiness. Such presents! Such nice people. But why does he not come here?" she asked her sister.
"Iii!" exclaimed Pani Hannah, with a disdainful smile, "they are common people. It is not customary that the bridegroom should visit his fiancee!"
"He is young," said Eli, "he is bashful." At that moment Mera sat down by the table, and leaning her head on her hand became sadly thoughtful. Leopold, on the contrary, laughed loudly.
"To be sure, I will not send my presents of betrothal before I have seen the girl," he said.
"Nu, you shall see her," said his mother. "We are all going to pay them a visit."
"What kind of a girl is she?" asked Pani Hannah's sister.
"Iii!" answered Pani Hannah, as before, "she is a common girl."
"Her father, Raphael, gives her fifteen thousand roubles as dowry,"
said Eli.
Leopold frowned.
"That's not much," he said. "I cannot live on fifteen thousand."
"You will start some business," remarked the merchant.
But the mother of the good looking boy turned angrily to her brother-in-law.
"Business!" she exclaimed, "he is not brought up for business! Did we give him a fine education for business? He was through five classes in the gymnasium (college) and he is now an official. It is true that he has as yet only a small salary, but who knows what may happen! He may be appointed to a governorship! Who can tell?"
Leopold raised his eyebrows significantly, indicating that he was satisfied at having been born for such honours and that he did not object to the likelihood of receiving a governorship.
Eli nodded and said nothing. "It does not matter," he thought, "that they talk nonsense. Let them talk!" At that moment pretty Mera raised her head and said to her cousin.
"Cousin! comme c'est ennuyant ici!"
"Oui, cousine! cette vilaine petite ville est une place tres ennuyante!" answered he, whistling.
The two mothers, seated on the sofa, did not understand a word, but they looked at each other and blushed for joy, and Pani Hannah stretched her plump hand across the table and caressed her daughter's hair.
"Fischele!" (little fish) said she, with an indescribable smile of beautitude and love on her lips.
Even on Eli the French language made some impression. His face, which had been a little sorrowful, became serene again. He rose and said cheerfully:
"Nu, let us be going. It's time."
In a few minutes they descended from the piazza into the street.
Eli's face had again become sorrowful. Nothing could be more unorthodox than the dress of his relative. It consisted of a short, fashionable coat, shining shoes and very widely-open waistcoat, which showed the entire snowy shirtfront. On his head he wore a small cap, with the official star, and before going out he had lighted a cigarette.
It was a hard thing for Eli to contradict anyone--much more his guest and the pet of the two women whom he at any rate respected. But when he went out on the piazza and saw the crowds of people--whom the Sabbath day brought out in swarms--he could not refrain from warning the lad.
"Leopold, listen!" said he, quietly and gently, "you had better throw that cigarette away. The people are stupid here, but you had better not irritate them. And perhaps," he added immediately, "God himself forbad smoking on the Sabbath. Who can tell?"
Leopold laughed aloud.
"I am not afraid of anything!" said he, and springing down the steps of the piazza be offered Mera his arm.
Leopold and Mera then walked ahead arm in arm. They were followed by the magnificent mothers in balloon-like dresses, velvet mantillas, and enormous hats covered with flowers. Eli brought up the retinue, walking slowly and with a conspicuously sorrowful face and hands folded behind him.
If attracting the attention of the numerous crowd could be called a triumph, the march of the Witebski family across the square of the town was certainly a triumphal one. In the twinkling of an eye a crowd of children of all ages and both sexes were following them, and, in the beginning with muffled exclamation, but finally with loud shouting, they began to run after them. Soon older people joined the children, and even more prominent families appeared on the piazzas of their houses surrounding the square. In the gate of the school-yard stood the melamed, in his usual primitive dress and as though he could not believe the evidence of his own widely-open eyes. He looked at the astonishing show passing the square.
The greatest attention was drawn by the young couple walking ahead; Leopold, clad in his elegant coat, and with a cigarette in his mouth, and Mera, in her very balloon-like bright dress, leaning on her cousin's arm and drawing herself up in order to show off to advantage her society manners.
Eli walked as though on live coals, but Pani Hannah strode forward as though crowned with laurels. Her sister looked around the dark crowd with half-closed eyes and head carried high.
"Zi! Zi! a shejne puryc! a shejne panienkies!" shouted the children, running, jumping, pointing with their fingers, and raising clouds of dust with their feet.
"Who are they? Are they Jews?" asked the older people, pointing at Leopold's short coat and Cigarette.
"Misnagdim!" suddenly shouted some voice in the crowd, and a small stone, thrown by an unknown hand, passed close to Leopold's head. The young man grew pale and threw away the cigarette--the cause of the general scandal. Eli frowned. But Pani Hannah raised her head still higher and said quite loudly to her sister:
"Nu, we must forgive them. They are so ignorant!"
Leopold, however, did not forgive the stone thrown at him. This could be seen by his frightened eyes and tightened lips when he entered the Ezofowichs' parlour.
There on the sofa--the place of honour--sat old Saul surrounded by his sons, sons-in-law, and several older grandchildren. At one of the windows, as usual, sat the always slumbering great-grandmother. At the other window stood Meir.
When Witebski's family entered the parlour, Meir merely glanced at Mera, as though she was perfectly indifferent to him, but he looked sharply, inquisitively, at Leopold. He evidently desired to approach as soon as possible the man who came from the broad world, and penetrate him through and through.
For a while only preliminary conversation and loud greetings were heard Saul did not leave his place on the sofa. His daughter Sarah, Ber's wife, received the guests, serving them with dainties, loudly admiring the beauty of the hats and dresses of the ladies.
Mera sat graciously on the edge of a chair, amused by the bashful, embarrassed, and at the same time joyful Lija, and glancing askance at the young man standing at the window, guessing that he must be her intended husband. But she did not once meet his glance. Meir seemingly ignored her existence. He looked constantly at Leopold.
Pani Hannah was telling with great animation, and still greater pride to the women surrounding her, of the fountain which she had once seen in a large city, and about the music which was played every Sunday in the public garden in Wilno. In the meantime she was examining the Ezofowichs' parlour. In fact, the large, clean room with its simple furniture, possessed an air of thrift and riches, which was a great deal more attractive than Pani Hannah's speckled salon. There was also a library filled with large volumes, which, according to the traditions of the Ezofowich family, were formerly the property of Michael the Senior. There was a cupboard filled with silver and china, and on the top of it stood a large samovar, shining like gold.
When Pani Hannah saw this a blush of shame appeared on her face. A samovar in the parlour of the family of her future son-in-law! It was contrary to all rules of civilisation of which she knew anything.
Soon, however, from this highly indecent object her glance passed on to the great-grandmother slumbering in her arm-chair. At that moment a ray of the setting sun fell on the motionless figure, lighting up the jewels with which she was covered. Like fiery stars over her forehead shone the rich gems ornamenting her turban, while her earrings threw out thousands of sparks, and the pearls on her bosom took on a faint pink glow.
Pani Hannah elbowed her sister slightly.