The Collected Stories

Gutsha, the redhead Naomi. The youngest one had a Gentile name, Pola. Usually when people came for a Din Torah—a judgment—Father made a compromise. If one litigant sued for twenty rubles and the other denied owing anything, my father’s verdict would be to pay ten. But what kind of compromise could be made in this case? Father shook his head and sighed. From time to time he glanced toward his books and manuscripts. He disliked being disturbed in his studies. He nodded to me as if to say, “See where the Evil One can lead those who forsake the Torah.”
    After much haggling Father sent the women to the kitchen to discuss their grievances and the financial details with my mother. She was more experienced than he in worldly matters. She had peered into the courtroom once or twice and threw Koppel a look of disdain. The women immediately rushed into the kitchen and I followed. My mother, taller than my father, lean, sickly white, with a sharp nose and large gray eyes, was, as always, reading some Hebrew morality book. She wore a white kerchief over her blond wig. I heard her say to Koppel’s wives, “Divorce him. Run away from him like from the fire. I should be forgiven for my words, but what did you see in him? A debaucher!”
    Gutsha the cook replied, “Rebbetzin, it’s easy to divorce a man, but we have two children. It’s true that what he pays for their support is a pittance but it’s still better than nothing. Once we divorce, he will be as free as a bird. A child needs shoes, a little skirt, underpants. Well, and what should I tell them when they grow up? He used to come on Saturdays only, still to the girls he was Daddy. He brought them candy, a toy, a cookie. And he pretended to love them.”
    “Didn’t you know that he had a wife?” my mother asked.
    Gutsha hesitated for a while. “In the beginning I didn’t know, and when I found out it was already too late. He said he didn’t live with his wife, and they would be divorced any day. He dazzled me and bewitched me. He’s a smooth talker, a sly fox.”
    “She knew, the whore, she knew!” Trina Leah called out. “When a man visits a woman on the Sabbath only, he’s as kosher as pork. She’s no better than he is. People like her only want to grab other women’s husbands. She’s a slut, an outcast.” And Trina Leah spat in Gutsha’s face.
    Gutsha wiped off her face with a handkerchief. “She should spit blood and pus.”
    “Really, I cannot understand,” my mother said to the women and to herself. Then she added, “Perhaps he could be ordered to pay for the children by the law of the Gentiles.”
    “Rebbetzin,” Gutsha said, “if a man has a heart for his children, he doesn’t need to be forced. This one came every week with a different excuse. He doled out the few guldens like alms. Today the policemen came to the hospital and took me away as if I were a lawbreaker. My enemies rejoiced at my downfall. I left my children with a nurse who must leave at four o’clock and then they will be alone.”
    “In that case, go home at once,” my mother said. “Something will be done. There is still a remnant of order in the world.”
    “No order whatsoever. I dug my own grave. I must have been insane. I deserve all the blows I’m getting. I’m ready to die, but who will take care of my darlings? It is not their fault.”
    “She’s as much of a mother as I’m a countess,” Trina Leah hollered. “Bitch, leper, hoodlum!”
    I had great compassion for Gutsha; nevertheless, I was curious about the men, and I ran back to the room where they were arguing. I heard Shmuel Smetena say, “Listen to me, Koppel. No matter what you say, the children should not be the victims. You will have to provide for them, and if not the Russians will put you into the cage for three years and no one would bat an eyelid. No lawyer would take a case like this. If you fall into a rage and stab someone, the judge may be lenient. But what you did day in and day out was not the act of a human being.”
    “I will pay, I will pay—don’t be so holier-than-thou,” Koppel said. “These are my children, and they will not have to go begging. Rabbi, if you permit me, I will swear on the Holy Scroll.” And Koppel pointed to the Ark.
    “Swear? God forbid!” Father replied. “First you have to sign a paper that you will obey my judgment and fulfill your obligations to your children. Woe is me!” My father changed his tone. “How long does a man live