Stempenyu: A Jewish Romance Read Online Free PDF Page B

and turning, and covering herself, and uncovering herself; but, no sleep comes to her. She tries her best to drive him out of her mind—Stempenyu, I mean, of course. But, he still stood before her eyes, goodness alone knew why. She closed her eyes tightly, but, she saw him just as clearly. She found herself compelled to haze back into the burning eyes that were staring at her out of the darkness, beckoning to her, and pleading with her.
    “Oh, I wish I could stop thinking of him! Oh, if only Moshe-Mendel were here!” she moaned piteously. And, when she opened her eyes again, it was only to imagine they rested on the full length figure of Stempenyu, who was standing before her with his fiddle in his hand. And,once again, she found herself listening to his wondrous playing! And, oh, what sweet music it was! Surely, it was not altogether without reason that such awe-inspiring tales were told of him?
    As she lay there in the darkness and the silence, all the stories she had heard about him long ago, when she was a child, now came back to her with full force. She remembered distinctly the time she was learning to write at the school kept by my Mottel Sprais, the girls’ teacher. She first heard the name of Stempenyu, sitting in a desk, surrounded by a number of other girls of her own age. They were talking between themselves of how Stempenyu had enticed a young woman away from her betrothed; and, how, for grief and shame, the young woman had died of a broken heart, and had had a black wedding ceremony made after her, instead of the usual joyful ceremony. The girls went on telling how Stempenyu had taken his revenge against a girl who called him a charlatan; and, how he had refused the hand of a noblewoman’s daughter—a woman of remarkable beauty. The moment this beautiful woman had laid eyes on Stempenyu, she had fallen madly in love with him. She declared that she must get him, even if she were to die in the attempt. When the nobleman had heard that his daughter was madly in love with Stempenyu, and that she would die if she did not get him, he went at once to Stempenyu, and threatened him with all sorts of terrible things if he did not marry his daughter at once. But, Stempenyu was not at all frightened. He refused to listen to any such proposal. So, the nobleman tried to win him for his daughter by another method. He began to persuade him in the kindest of terms, and even promisedhim for dowry three villages, if he would only consent to marry his daughter, who was dying of love for him. But, Stempenyu replied to him in French (he knew both French and German thoroughly), that even if he filled his house with gold pieces, he would not change his religion, nor marry the beautiful noblewoman. And, ever since that day Stempenyu has been the greatest favourite with all the Jews he ever came across, including even the Rabbis themselves. They feel that he has a true Jewish heart, whatever his faults.
    And, as for the beautiful noblewoman—when she heard what Stempenyu had said, she jumped into the river, and was drowned.
    Such were the stories which had been told of Stempenyu in all the little villages. They believed him to be at once the greatest genius, and the most heartless wretch that had ever existed, in spite of the good he sometimes brought about by his sharpness and his wit. And, when the girls told each other about Stempenyu, a shiver ran through them. How well Rochalle could recall her feelings! And alas! how the stories had haunted her for days afterwards.
    But, above everything else, Rochalle had been impressed with the stories that were told of Stempenyu and his love-philtre. As she went over everything, she was struck by the worthlessness of love and love philters. No love-philtre was worth a single farthing! “In our own way, my Moshe-Mendel and I love one another, and neither of us ever saw a philter of any sort in our lives.”
    Rochalle turned over on her side with her face to the wall, and went on thinking