Part 3 (2/2)

”Ah, wait till I win on the lottery,” said the special young man.

”Then, vy not take another eighth of a ticket?” inquired Sugarman the _Shadchan_, who seemed to spring from the other end of the room. He was one of the greatest Talmudists in London--a lean, hungry-looking man, sharp of feature and acute of intellect. ”Look at Mrs. Robinson--I've just won her over twenty pounds, and she only gave me two pounds for myself. I call it a _cherpah_--a shame.”

”Yes, but you stole another two pounds,” said Becky.

”How do you know?” said Sugarman startled.

Becky winked and shook her head sapiently. ”Never _you_ mind.”

The published list of the winning numbers was so complex in construction that Sugarman had ample opportunities of bewildering his clients.

”I von't sell you no more tickets,” said Sugarman with righteous indignation.

”A fat lot I care,” said Becky, tossing her curls.

”Thou carest for nothing,” said Mrs. Belcovitch, seizing the opportunity for maternal admonition. ”Thou hast not even brought me my medicine to-night. Thou wilt find, it on the chest of drawers in the bedroom.”

Becky shook herself impatiently.

”I will go,” said the special young man.

”No, it is not beautiful that a young man shall go into my bedroom in my absence,” said Mrs. Belcovitch blus.h.i.+ng.

Becky left the room.

”Thou knowest,” said Mrs. Belcovitch, addressing herself to the special young man, ”I suffer greatly from my legs. One is a thick one, and one a thin one.”

The young man sighed sympathetically.

”Whence comes it?” he asked.

”Do I know? I was born so. My poor lambkin (this was the way Mrs.

Belcovitch always referred to her dead mother) had well-matched legs. If I had Aristotle's head I might be able to find out why my legs are inferior. And so one goes about.”

The reverence for Aristotle enshrined in Yiddish idiom is probably due to his being taken by the vulgar for a Jew. At any rate the theory that Aristotle's philosophy was Jewish was advanced by the mediaeval poet, Jehuda Halevi, and sustained by Maimonides. The legend runs that when Alexander went to Palestine, Aristotle was in his train. At Jerusalem the philosopher had sight of King Solomon's ma.n.u.scripts, and he forthwith edited them and put his name to them. But it is noteworthy that the story was only accepted by those Jewish scholars who adopted the Aristotelian philosophy, those who rejected it declaring that Aristotle in his last testament had admitted the inferiority of his writings to the Mosaic, and had asked that his works should be destroyed.

When Becky returned with the medicine, Mrs. Belcovitch mentioned that it was extremely nasty, and offered the young man a taste, whereat he rejoiced inwardly, knowing he had found favor in the sight of the parent. Mrs. Belcovitch paid a penny a week to her doctor, in sickness or health, so that there was a loss on being well. Becky used to fill up the bottles with water to save herself the trouble of going to fetch the medicine, but as Mrs. Belcovitch did not know this it made no difference.

”Thou livest too much indoors,” said Mr. Sugarman, in Yiddish.

”Shall I march about in this weather? Black and slippery, and the Angel going a-hunting?”

”Ah!” said Mr. Sugarman, relapsing proudly into the vernacular, ”Ve English valk about in all vedders.”

Meanwhile Moses Ansell had returned from evening service and sat down, unquestioningly, by the light of an unexpected candle to his expected supper of bread and soup, blessing G.o.d for both gifts. The rest of the family had supped. Esther had put the two youngest children to bed (Rachel had arrived at years of independent undressing), and she and Solomon were doing home-lessons in copy-books, the candle saving them from a caning on the morrow. She held her pen clumsily, for several of her fingers were swathed in b.l.o.o.d.y rags tied with cobweb. The grandmother dozed in her chair. Everything was quiet and peaceful, though the atmosphere was chilly. Moses ate his supper with a great smacking of the lips and an equivalent enjoyment. When it was over he sighed deeply, and thanked G.o.d in a prayer lasting ten minutes, and delivered in a rapid, sing-song manner. He then inquired of Solomon whether he had said his evening prayer. Solomon looked out of the corner of his eyes at his _Bube_, and, seeing she was asleep on the bed, said he had, and kicked Esther significantly but hurtfully under the table.

”Then you had better say your night-prayer.”

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