Stempenyu: A Jewish Romance by Sholem Aleichem, Hannah Berman

as well as the dark girl with the black hair who had just come into the village.
    “For my part, let us go,” she answered.
    Stempenyu snatched up his overcoat and his walking stick, and went out into the village by the side of Friedel the Black-One. He looked around to see that no one was within hearing distance, and he addressed her in a firm voice:
    “Tell me, I pray you, what this means?”
    “What do you mean by asking what this means?”
    “I mean—why have you come here?”
    “Listen to him!” she exclaimed. “One would imagine he was dead as a door-nail, or goodness knows only what!”
    “Do you hear, Freidel?” Stempenyu demanded. “Do you hear me, Freidel? I don’t like to have such tricks played on me. I asked you plainly what you are doing here, and you answered me with ridicule. I want none of that.”
    Freidel threw a sharp glance at him out of the corners of her green eyes, swept back the long plait which had fallen forward over her shoulder, and answered him in a serious voice:
    “You want to know what I am doing here? I came to see you Stempenyu. On the day of our betrothal, you said you would write to me the moment you set foot in the village for which you were bound. You promised that you would make arrangements immediately for our wedding to take place in two or three weeks’ time. I waited and waited to hear from you for more than two months, but, you wrote never so much as a word. So, we decided to go out into the world in search of you. And, we found that looking for you was like looking for the day before yesterday. We were in every corner of the world, and now at last the Lord took pity on us, and we—”
    “Tell me, Freidel, who are ‘we’? You said ‘we’ each time. ‘We’ went and ‘we’ came.”
    “We two. That is my mother and I, Stempenyu.”
    “Your mother!” cried Stempenyu. And, all at once he felt that he was a beaten man. “Your mother? What is she doing here?”
    “Hush! What are you shouting for, Stempenyu? Whatdid you suppose? No girl travels by herself. It would be a nice thing to do, eh?”
    “True. But, what business has your mother with me?” asked Stempenyu, as he turned round, and retraced his steps back to the village.
    “She is my mother, and will become your mother-in-law. You must remember that, Stempenyu.”
    “And, do you really imagine, Freidel, that I am going to marry you?”
    “Well, and what do you think yourself, Stempenyu?”
    “Nonsense!”
    “Why is it nonsense?”
    “Because I never thought seriously of marrying you at all.”
    Freidel stopped, and gazed at Stempenyu, right into his eyes. Then she looked about her on all sides to see if there was anyone near them. She drew closer to Stempenyu, and whispered to him hurriedly:
    “Listen to me, Stempenyu. Don’t imagine that you have to do with a timid little girl who does not know anything of what foes on in the world. I know you well, Stempenyu. I know that you are a thorough-going charlatan. You would like to have a different girl to flirt with every day of the week. But, all this does not matter now. Everything has to come to an end at some time or another. Isn’t it so? In reality, you are not a bad sort, by any means. It is all because your heart is so soft. But, you are handsome, too—a man in ten thousand. And, your playing is marvelous. You can always provide for a wife. And, for these reasons, I want you. You must marry me, and that speedily. And, all your protests are in vain—a mere waste of breath. Bend your head a little lower, and I willtell you a secret.”
    Freidel’s secret sent a thrill through Stempenyu’s frame. He was unable to lift a hand or a foot. He was like turned to stone. He remained standing stock still in the middle of the road, and could not even open his mouth to utter a single word. At this juncture there arrived upon the scene, panting and breathless, the red haired Michsa Drummer. He was looking for Stempenyu to tell him that the wealthiest