Before that happened I had never suspected that my father
had anything like a family name. For some time the deal remained a
deep secret. But no secret is proof against a mother's intuition,
and my mother scented the thing. She caught me by the arm--I do not
know why she picked me out--rushed with me to the rabbi, and made it
hot for him.
"Is this justice, rabbi? Did I bear and rear children, only to give
up my son for the sake of some Avremel?!"
The rabbi sighed, cast down his eyes, and argued, that said Avremel
was not simply "an Avremel," but a "veritable jewel," a profound
Lamdan, a noble-hearted man, destined to become great in Israel. It
was unjust to give him away, when there was someone else to take his
place. Besides, Avremel was a married man, and the father of an
infant child. "Now where is justice?" demanded the rabbi. But my
mother persisted. For all she knew, her own sons might yet grow up
to become ornaments to israel . . . And she, too, was observing the
ordinances of the Hallah and the Sabbath candles, and the rest of
the laws, no less than Avremel's mother.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25