Stempenyu: A Jewish Romance Read Online Free PDF

boisterously and carelessly, having tasted freely of the strong liquor which had been provided. Even his own son, Moshe-Mendel, Roshalle’s husband, was pulling his father by the sleeve into the corner, as he cried: “Jump to the ceiling, jump to the ceiling, everybody!”
    The musicians were now playing by themselves. Stempenyu had left them to go and mingle with the crowd. He was as gay and as noisy as any of them.
    The leadership of the orchestra was in the hands of one of the young men with the long teeth. Shneyer-Meyer, the second fiddle, had dozed off, and Yekel Double-bass was fast asleep. But, the younger men were playing for all they were worth, Michsa Drummer working like a galley-slave to make up the deficiency of the instruments. He felt like a murderer, vicious towards his drum as if it were the most hateful thing in the whole world. He hid his yellow head behind the drum. He seemed to have vanished out of sight, excepting for his shoulders, which showed out above the drum, and his feet, which beat time on the floor.
    Meanwhile, Stempenyu was fluttering around the young women, keeping near to Rochalle most of the time.
    “Let us go home,” said Rochalle to her mother-in-law, who was staring at her husband with the big hat on his nose, and his arms in his shirt-sleeves.
    “Come, my daughter, come,” she replied. “You are right. It is time to go home. To-morrow is market-day,and we must rise early. See how they are enjoying themselves!”
    Dvossa-Malka went home with Rochalle.
    The dark blue sky had a patch of lighter shade on one side. It was the dawn breaking through the clouds of night. A cock crowed somewhere, and a dozen others took up the cry. Far away in the distance, a dog was barking. But, not a soul was yet astir. Even the field laborers were still fast asleep in their tiny huts. The only house that showed signs of life was the one which was inhabited by an old Jew who was in the habit of reading for an hour before he set out on his daily tasks.
    “What do you say to Nathan’s daughter, Rochalle? Has she not grown in the width? Do you like her?” But, Rochalle was silent. She had not heard what was said. She was deeply engrossed in her own reflections. Who can say what or about whom she was thinking?
    “Aunt,” she said, addressing her mother-in-law, to whom she sometimes gave that name, “I heard Stempenyu playing for the first time in my life to-night!”
    “Go away, child! For the first time in your life?” was the answer. “Didn’t he play at Reb Leib-Abram’s? And what about the wedding of Sarah Benzion’s daughter? And what about the wedding of Reb himself?”
    “I do not remember,” said Rochalle. “I only remember hearing people repeat the name of Stempenyu again and again; but, I do not think I ever saw him before.”
    “Nu, that’s to be understood. At the time I speak of you were no more than—let me see—how old could you have been then? You were only a tiny child when Stempenyu played at the Rebbe’s wedding in the village of Skvirro. Oh, what a wedding that was! May all my bestfriends get married after the same grand fashion, with the help of the Almighty! That was before my poor twins were born. But where are you going to, Rochalle? Here is our house, and you passed it by, in the moment when I did not notice where you were taking me.”
    “Did you ever see the like?” cried Rochalle, looking about her in some confusion. “Did you ever hear the like?” she repeated, and burst out laughing.
    And, she was still laughing when they entered the house.
    They both went to bed without the least delay, anxious to get a few hours sleep before having to get up to go to the market on the morrow. This market was one of the few big ones which took place ion Tasapevka during the year. It was almost a fair.

VII      ROCHALLE CANNOT FALL ASLEEP
    Did you ever hear the likes? Without having the least cause to account for it, Rochalle cannot fall asleep. She keeps twisting,