Stempenyu: A Jewish Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

bound. And, the noise of the room was so deafening that no one overheard a word of what he was saying.
    “Is that your husband?” asked Stempenyu, throwing his eyes in the direction of a young man who was holding the lapel of another man’s coat, and arguing with it for allhe was worth.
    “Yes, that is he,” replied Rochalle, walking off from him without ceremony, as if she were offended. And, she felt dimly that he had offended her, though she could not exactly define how, or after what fashion.
    Stempenyu fluttered around her still; but she showed him that she had grown tired of him—the same Stempenyu whose glances were so magnetic, and whose personality was so irresistible. She thought that it was wrong for any young woman to so much as stay in the same room with him.
    She went back to her place beside the bride, and was ready to forget hat there existed such a person as Stempenyu.
    A moment later, a hush fell upon the guests. Stempenyu was again playing a pathetic melody accompanied by the orchestra. Every one was breathless. Every single individual was filled with anxiety lest he or she should lose a note of Stempenyu’s playing. Isaac-Naphtali’s head drooped to one side, as he listened with the rapt air of a connoisseur. Dvossa-Malka was like rooted to the spot on which she was standing, holding a plate in her hand. And, even the waiters and waitresses were compelled to stand stock-still, enraptured.
    And, Stempenyu went on pouring out his soul in the saddest, gloomiest melodies, so that a profound melancholy fell upon everyone who listened to him. They were breathless with the pathos of it all. Their hearts were full, and their tears gushed to their eyes. They wept, and moaned, and sobbed quietly. And Stempenyu? Who was Stempenyu at that moment? What was he? There was no such person as he. There was only a little fiddle, andsweet, yet sad sounds—divine singing that seemed to full the house from roof to cellar.
    And, Rochalle the beautiful, who had never before heard Stempenyu playing—she stood now and listened to the enchanting strains—the golden notes the likes of which she had never imagined, much less heard, in all her life. She knew nothing, and understood nothing of what was going on around her. She only knew that her heart was melting within her. She lifted her eyes, and looked up to where the wonderful melody was coming from. And, her eyes encountered Stempenyu’s black eyes fixed on her face, piercing her to the core, like dagger thrusts. At the same time, the piercing eyes were pleading with her, beckoning to her, speaking to her in seductive terms.
    Rochalle dropped her eyes; but, she knew that the burning eyes were still fixed on her. She felt uncomfortable and hot, and tried to turn out of the way of the burning eyes; but, they were still following her with their haunting expression, their supplications, their pleadings.

VI      AFTER THE SUPPER
    The wedding supper was long over. The people were making merry, dancing and laughing, and eating and drinking. Each of the guests took it in turn to pay for a dance; but, it was always the liveliest dance. Yontel the Butcher called for a
Cossak’s
dance, and the brides’ mother stepped out in front of him, quickly and bravely. A loud applause went up. And, Yontel was so hot and excited that he did not see he was really dancing opposite to a woman, and not a man as he imagined; for, he never suspected that any woman would be so immodest as to step out, and dance in front of him.
    The bride’s mother was smiling at him—a broad, good-natured smile that covered the whole of her broad face, so that she looked like the full moon.
    The dancing soon became general. Isaac-Naphtali had taken off his long coat, and was in his shirt-sleeves.He had been laughed at the whole evening because of the way he kept his coat tucked up, until he felt compelled to take it off. Someone pushed a big hat over his nose, and the whole roomful of people roared at him,