Satan in Goray

by the hand and led him to his house. He offered him his own bed, but Reb Itche Mates preferred to sleep on the bench near the oven. Reb Godel Chasid gave his guest a sheepskin cover and a pillow and retired to the alcove that served as his bedroom. But he could not sleep. All night long there came from behind the stove a bee-like drone. Reb Itche Mates was busy at Torah and, although there was no window in the room, he was surrounded by light as though the moon shone upon him. Before daybreak Reb Itche Mates rose, poured water on his hands, and sought to steal away to the study house. But Reb Godel Chasid had not undressed. He took Reb Itche Mates by the arm and whispered confidentially, "I saw everything, Reb Itche Mates."
    "Ah but what was there to see?" murmured Reb Itche Mates, bowing his head. " 'Silence is seemly for the wise.' "
    In the study house Reb Itche Mates spread out his wares and again waited for buyers. After the morning prayers he set his sack in a corner and went from house to house through Goray, examining the mezuzahs, as is the way of packmen, who are generally scribes as well. Whenever he found an error in a mezuzah, he corrected it on the spot with a goose quill, accepted a penny from the householder, and left.
    So it went until he came to Rechele's house. The mezuzah on Rechele's doorpost was an old one, covered with a white mold. Reb Itche Mates took a tong from his pocket, pulled out the nails that held the sign to the lintel, unrolled the scroll, and went over to the window for light in which to see whether any of the letters had blurred. It turned out that the word God had been completely erased, and that the right crown was missing from the letter "s" of the name Shaddai. His hands began to tremble, and he said with sternness, "Who lives here?"
    "My father lives here--Reb Eleazar Babad," re-plied Rechele.
    "Reb Eleazar Babad," said Reb Itche Mates, and he rubbed his forehead as though attempting to re-call something. "Isn't he the head of the com-munity?"
    "No longer," Rechele said. "Now he's a rag picker." And she burst into high-pitched laughter.
    That a Jewish girl should laugh so unrestrainedly was something new to Reb Itche Mates, and he glanced at her out of the corner of his wide-set eyes, browless and cool green, like those of a fish. Rechele's long braids were undone, like a witch's, full of feathers and straw. One half of her face was red, as though she had been lying on it, the other half was white. She was barefoot, and wore a torn red dress, through which parts of her body shone. In her left hand she held an earthen pot, in her right a straw whisk with ashes in it. Through her disheveled hair a pair of frantic eyes smiled madly at him. It occurred to Itche Mates that there was more here than met the eye.
    "Are you a married woman, or a maiden?"
    "A maiden," answered Rechele brazenly. "Like Jeptha's daughter, a sacrifice to God!"
    The mezuzah fell out of Reb Itche Mates' hand. Never in his whole life, not since he had first stood on his feet, had he heard such talk. His flesh crawled as though he had been touched by icy fingers. He wanted to run away from such sacrilege, but then it came to him that this would not be right. So he sat down on a box and took out a ruler and a bottle of ink. He sharpened his goose quill with a piece of glass, dipped it in the ink, and--wiped it again on his skull cap.
    "These are not proper things to say," he told Rechele after some hesitation. "The Blessed Name does not require human sacrifices. A Jewish girl should have a husband and heed the Law."
    "Nobody wants me!" Rechele said, and limped so close to him that the female smell of her body overcame him. "Unless Satan will have me!"
    She burst into sharp laughter which ended in a gasp. Large gleaming tears fell from her eyes. The pot slipped from her hands and broke into shards. Reb Itche Mates sought to reply, but his tongue had become heavy and dry. The cupboard, the walls, the floor swayed. He began to write, but his hand shook and a drop of ink blotted the parchment. So Reb Itche Mates lowered his head, wrinkled his forehead, and suddenly grasped the secret. For a while, he studied his pale fingernails, and then he muttered to himself: "This is from Heaven."

    10

    Reb Itche Mates Sends a Proposal of Marriage to Rechele Then did Reb Itche Mates the cabalist send messengers to Rechele, enjoining them to speak to her in these words: The bridegroom is a widower, and a man of no importance.