The Collected Stories

grandfather’s. In the darkness, her grandfather’s figure emerged: the light face, the white beard, the mild features, even the skullcap on his high forehead. He said in a quiet voice, “Akhsa, you have committed an injustice.”
    Akhsa began to cry. “Grandfather, what should I do?”
    “Everything can be corrected.”
    “How?”
    “Apologize to Zemach. Become his wife.”
    “Grandfather, I hate him.”
    “He is your destined one.”
    He lingered for a moment, and Akhsa could smell his snuff, which he used to mix with cloves and smelling salts. Then he vanished and an empty space remained in the darkness. She was too amazed to be frightened. She leaned against the headboard, and after some time she slept.
    She woke with a start. She heard her grandmother’s voice. This was not a murmuring like Grandfather’s but the strong voice of a living person. “Akhsa, my daughter.”
    Akhsa burst into tears. “Grandmother, where are you?”
    “I’m here.”
    “What should I do?”
    “Whatever your heart desires.”
    “What, Grandmother?”
    “Go to the priest. He will advise you.”
    Akhsa became numb. Fear constricted her throat. She managed to say, “You’re not my grandmother. You’re a demon.”
    “I am your grandmother. Do you remember how we went wading in the pond that summer night near the flat hill and you found a gulden in the water?”
    “Yes, Grandmother.”
    “I could give you other proof. Be it known that the Gentiles are right. Jesus of Nazareth is the Son of God. He was born of the Holy Spirit as prophesied. The rebellious Jews refused to accept the truth and therefore they are punished. The Messiah will not come to them because He is here already.”
    “Grandmother, I’m afraid.”
    “Akhsa, don’t listen!” her grandfather suddenly shouted into her right ear. “This isn’t your grandmother. It’s an evil spirit disguised to trick you. Don’t give in to his blasphemies. He will drag you into perdition.”
    “Akhsa, that is not your grandfather but a goblin from behind the bathhouse,” Grandmother interrupted. “Zemach is a ne’er-do-well, and vengeful to boot. He will torment you, and the children he begets will be vermin like him. Save yourself while there is time. God is with the Gentiles.”
    “Lilith! She-demon! Daughter of Ketev M’riri!” Grandfather growled.
    “Liar!”
    Grandfather became silent, but Grandmother continued to talk, although her voice faded. She said, “Your real grandfather learned the truth in Heaven and converted. They baptized him with heavenly water and he rests in Paradise. The saints are all bishops and cardinals. Those who remain stubborn are roasted in the fires of Gehenna. If you don’t believe me, ask for a sign.”
    “What sign?”
    “Unbutton your pillowcase, rip open the seams of the pillow, and there you will find a crown of feathers. No human hand could make a crown like this.”
    Her grandmother disappeared, and Akhsa fell into a heavy sleep. At dawn, she awoke and lit a candle. She remembered her grandmother’s words, unbuttoned the pillowcase, and ripped open the pillow. What she saw was so extraordinary she could scarcely believe her eyes: down and feathers entwined into a crown, with little ornaments and complex designs no worldly master could have duplicated. On the top of the crown was a tiny cross. It was all so airy that Akhsa’s breath made it flutter. Akhsa gasped. Whoever had made this crown—an angel or a demon—had done his work in darkness, in the inside of a pillow. She was beholding a miracle. She extinguished the candle and stretched out on the bed. For a long time she lay without any thoughts. Then she went back to sleep.
    In the morning when she awoke, Akhsa thought she had had a dream, but on the night table she saw the crown of feathers. The sun made it sparkle with the colors of the rainbow. It looked as if it were set with the smallest of gems. She sat and contemplated the wonder. Then she put on a black dress and a black shawl and asked that the carriage be brought round for her. She rode to the house where Koscik, the priest, resided. The housekeeper answered her knock. The priest was nearing seventy and he knew Akhsa. He had often come to the estate to bless the peasants’ bread at Easter time and to give rites to the dying and conduct weddings and funerals. One of Akhsa’s teachers had borrowed a Latin–Polish dictionary from him. Whenever the priest visited, Akhsa’s grandmother invited