The Last Demon

of a tannery; Peshe had invested her dowry in a shop that sold herring, tar, pots and pans, and was always crowded with peasants. Father and daughter were outfitting Avigdor and had placed orders for a fur coat, a cloth coat, a silk kapote, and two pair of boots. In addition, he had received many gifts immediately, things that had belonged to Peshe’s first husband: the Vilna edition of the Talmud, a gold watch, a Hanukkah candelabra, a spice box. Anshel sat alone at the lectern.
    On Tuesday when Anshel arrived for dinner at Alter Vishkower’s house, Hadass remarked: ‘What do you say about your partner – back in clover, isn’t he?’
    ‘What did you expect – that no one else would want him?’
    Hadass reddened. ‘It wasn’t my fault. My father was against it.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because they found out a brother of his had hanged himself.’
    Anshel looked at her as she stood there – tall, blond, with a long neck, hollow cheeks, and blue eyes, wearing a cotton dress and a calico apron. Her hair, fixed in two braids, was flung back over her shoulders. A pity I’m not a man, Anshel thought.
    ‘Do you regret it now?’ Anshel asked.
    ‘Oh, yes!’
    Hadass fled from the room. The rest of the food, meat dumplings and tea, was brought in by the servant girl. Not until Anshel had finished eating and was washing her hands for the Final Blessings did Hadass reappear.
    She came up to the table and said in a smothered voice: ‘Swear to me you won’t tell him anything. Why should he know what goes on in my heart!’
    Then she fled once more, nearly falling over the threshold.
III
    The head of the yeshiva asked Anshel to choose another study partner, but weeks went by and still Anshel studied alone. There was no one in the yeshiva who could take Avigdor’s place. All the others were small, in body and in spirit. They talked nonsense, bragged about trifles, grinned oafishly, behaved like shnorrers. Without Avigdor the study house seemed empty. At night Anshel lay on her bench at the widow’s, unable to sleep. Stripped of gaberdine and trousers, she was once more Yentl, a girl of marriageable age, in love with a young man who was betrothed to another. Perhaps I should have told him the truth, Anshel thought. But it was too late for that. Anshel could not go back to being a girl, could never again do without books and a study house. She lay there thinking outlandish thoughts that brought her close to madness. She fell asleep, then awoke with a start. In her dream she had been at the same time a man and a woman, wearing both a woman’s bodice and a man’s fringed garment. Yentl’s period was late and she was suddenly afraid … who knew? In
Medrash Talpioth
she had read of a woman who had conceived merely through desiring a man. Only now did Yentl grasp the meaning of the Torah’s prohibition against wearing the
clothes of the other sex. By doing so one deceived not only others but also oneself. Even the soul was perplexed, finding itself incarnate in a strange body.
    At night Anshel lay awake; by day she could scarcely keep her eyes open. At the houses where she had her meals, the women complained that the youth left everything on his plate. The rabbi noticed that Anshel no longer paid attention to the lectures but stared out the window lost in private thoughts. When Tuesday came, Anshel appeared at the Vishkower house for dinner. Hadass set a bowl of soup before her and waited, but Anshel was so disturbed she did not even say thank you. She reached for a spoon but let it fall.
    Hadass ventured a comment: ‘I hear Avigdor has deserted you.’
    Anshel awoke from her trance. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘He’s no longer your partner.’
    ‘He’s left the yeshiva.’
    ‘Do you see him at all?’
    ‘He seems to be hiding.’
    ‘Are you at least going to the wedding?’
    For a moment Anshel was silent as though missing the meaning of the words. Then she spoke: ‘He’s a big fool.’
    ‘Why do you say that?’
    ‘You’re beautiful, and the other one looks like a monkey.’
    Hadass blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘It’s all my father’s fault.’
    ‘Don’t worry. You’ll find someone who’s worthy of you.’
    ‘There’s no one I want.’
    ‘But everyone wants you …’
    There was a long silence. Hadass’s eyes grew larger, filling with the sadness of one who knows there is no consolation.
    ‘Your soup is getting cold.’
    ‘I, too, want you.’
    Anshel was astonished at what she had said.