The Collected Stories

tomorrow there would be a wedding at Reb Sheftel’s house; Getsl the fiddler and Beyle Tslove would become man and wife.
    V

    When the rabbi heard of the goings on, he issued a proscription forbidding anyone to attend the black wedding. He sent Bendit the beadle to stand guard at the door of Reb Sheftel’s house and allow no one to enter. That night, however, there was a heavy snowfall, and by morning it turned bitterly cold. The wind had blown up great drifts and whistled in all the chimneys. Bendit was shrouded in white from head to foot and looked like a snowman made by children. His wife came after him and took him home, half frozen. As soon as dusk began to fall, the rabble gathered at Reb Sheftel’s house. Some brought bottles of vodka or brandy; others, dried mutton and honey cake.
    As usual, Liebe Yentl had slept all day and did not waken even when the ailing Zise Feige poured a few spoonfuls of broth into her mouth. But once darkness came, the girl sat up. There was such a crush in the house that people could not move.
    Zeinvl the butcher took charge. “Bride, did you fast on your wedding day?”
    “The way the dead eat, that’s how they look,” Beyle Tslove replied with a proverb.
    “And you, bridegroom, are you ready?”
    “Let her first deliver the dowry.”
    “You can take all I have—a pinch of dust, a moldy crust …”
    Getsl proved that evening that he was not only an expert musician but could also serve as rabbi, cantor, and wedding jester. First he played a sad tune and recited “God Is Full of Mercy” for the bride and groom. Then he played a merry tune, accompanying it with appropriate jests. He admonished the bride to be a faithful wife, to dress and adorn herself, and to take good care of her household. He warned the couple to be mindful of the day of death, and sang to them:

Weep, bride, weep and moan,
Dead men fear to be alone
.
In the Sling, beneath the tide,
A groom is waiting for his bride
.
Corpse and corpse, wraith and wraith,
Every demon seeks a mate
.
Angel Dumah, devil, Shed,
A coffin is a bridal bed
.

    Although it was a mock wedding, many a tear fell from the women’s eyes. The men sighed. Everything proceeded according to custom. Getsl preached, sang, played. The guests could actually hear the weeping of a fiddle, the piping of a clarinet, the bleating of a trumpet, the wailing of a bagpipe. Getsl pretended to cover the bride with the veil and played a melody appropriate to the veiling ceremony. After the wedding march he recited the words of “Thou Art Sanctified,” which accompany the giving of the ring. He delivered the bridegroom’s oration, and announced the wedding presents: a shrouded mirror, a little sack of earth from the Holy Land, a burial cleansing spoon, a stopped clock. When the spirits of the guests seemed to droop, Getsl struck up a kozotsky. They tried to dance, but there was scarcely room to take a step. They swayed and gesticulated.
    Beyle Tslove suddenly began to wail. “
Oy
, Getsl!”
    “What, my dove!”
    “Why couldn’t this be real? We weren’t born dead!”
    “Pooh! Reality itself hangs by a thread.”
    “It’s not a game to me, you fool.”
    “Whatever it is, let’s drink and keep cool. May we rejoice and do well until all the fires are extinguished in hell.”
    A glass of wine was brought, and Liebe Yentl emptied it to the last drop. Then she dashed it against the wall, and Getsl began to recite in the singsong of the cheder boys:

Such is Noah’s way,
Wash your tears away
.
Take a drink instead,
The living and the dead
.
Wine will make you strong,
Eternity is long
.

    Zise Feige could not endure any more. She rose from her sickbed, wrapped herself in a shawl, and shuffled into her daughter’s room in her slippers. She tried to push through the crowd. “Beasts,” she cried. “You are torturing my child!”
    Beyle Tslove screamed at her, “Don’t you worry, old sourpuss! Better a rotten fiddler than a creep from Zawiercia!”
    VI

    In the middle of the night there were sounds of steps and shouts outside the door. Reb Sheftel had come home from Worka, bringing a bagful of new amulets, charms, and talismans. The Hasidim of the Worka rabbi entered with him, ready to drive out the rabble. They swung their sashes, crying, “Get out, you scum!”
    Several young fellows tried to fight off the Worka Hasidim, but the Shidlovtse crowd was tired from standing so long, and they soon began to file out the door. Getsl called after