The Treasure

Yakhne-Brayne [Reading slowly and with difficulty so that the words run together in a monotone.]:

“And God caused the Temple to be destroyed and said, ‘I will remember your sins and you will devour your children’s flesh,’ And because the daughters—” [Through the window, the sound of wailing voices, Tilye checks herself in the mirror, fixes her spit curls, and looks out the window.] Here comes the funeral. And this one keeps on admiring herself. It’s a widow left single, not a widower. [Back to book.] “And because the daughters of Jerusalem boasted of their beauty and said ‘When the Babylonians come they will take us for wives,’ therefore did God bring sorrow upon them. And when the Babylonians saw this, they cast off their wives, and the chariot wheels rode over their heads and crushed their heads and—” [Interrupts herself.] You should listen to this. Sits and admires herself! [Back to book.] “And because the daughters of Jerusalem boasted—” [Interrupts herself.] “Doesn’t pick up a comb for days on end, but today when we read Lamentations, that’s her day for a hairdo. [Back to book.] And said ‘When the Babylonians come they will take us for wives,’ and—” [Interrupts herself.] Get away from the window. Get away! There are no Babylonians around here. Nobody comes to the cemetery on Tisha B’Av to find a wife. [Funeral procession is heard passing outside window. Widow wails: “Who is left for me? Who? Seven little orphans. Take me away, my God.” Funeral recedes.]

Seven orphans. What will the poor thing do? Starve, probably. Be a widow forever. Who’s going to marry a widow with seven children?

Especially when there are so many girls just sitting at their window making eyes.

Ah, stop it. Is that what’s written in your Lamentations?

What’s written in my Lamentations is you should put down the mirror—put it down!—and get away from the window.

What do you care if I sit here? I don’t go out in the street. I can’t show myself because I’ve got nothing to wear. So at least I can sit by the window and look at people. And when can I do that except when there’s a funeral, or on Tisha B’Av when a lot of people come to the cemetery?

When people come, she’s got to sit herself down in a show window.

And really why not? Come and see, come here. There goes a good-looking young man. Just looking at him is a pleasure. And I do believe he noticed me. He’s looking. He’s looking. He can’t take his eyes off me. He is beginning to approach, closer and closer . . .

Get away from that window right now!

He isn’t looking. He isn’t looking. He doesn’t see me at all. Ah, you don’t have one little crumb of imagination. You have no idea what it’s like to dream.

All my bad dreams on your head!

Daydreaming. Daydreaming. You just sit and dream.

Stop talking nonsense and let me read. And get away from the window. You don’t have to do your daydreaming there. Dreaming [Reads.] “And when they saw . . . they cast out—”

It’s so good. Like a lovely storybook. You forget yourself. You make yourself up. You become somebody else entirely. I think hard, and imagine and think. And I become absolutely a Lady Rothschild.

No more and no less.

The bride of Rothschild. Why not? He doesn’t need a dowry. He’s rich. I can imagine how he pours whole sacks full of gold and goes wandering all alone, far and wide, till he comes at last to our town and he sees me. He came to see our cemetery, and I was sitting at the window.

We should lock you up in a crazy house.

And he falls on his knees to me and cries out, “I adore you. I am Rothschild. Will you be mine?”

I’m going to throw something at your head.

But isn’t that nice? And then sometimes I imagine that a count comes—

This one isn’t even Jewish?

It’s only fantasy. I can fantasize anything.

“Pantasize!” You’re no better than the daughters of Jerusalem. “When the Babylonians come—” A dark end is what’s coming to you. Tisha B’Av and she has nothing else to do but sit and imagine demons-only-know-what.

Demons only know? Marriage is a Jewish thing. So is needing money. And I’m imagining about getting married and getting money. Listen, Mama, what I would do if I had money. I’m telling you, Mama, I would rule the whole world. I feel I’m getting so clever—

Yakhne-Brayne [Begins repeating angrily, with energy.]:

“And he strengthened my sufferings, and I was scorned upon the ash heaps of Jerusalem—”

[Yudke enters, wailing. He has a crooked hand, a crooked foot. Perpetually saliva in mouth. Overgrown, sparse little beard. Big tufts on his head under a torn old hat. Dressed in rags.]

What is the matter with you, Yudke?

Yakhne-Brayne [Angry.]:

What are you crying for this time?

Zshutshke buried. Zshutshke buried.

There’s a new Tisha B’Av for you. [Tilye laughs.]

Yudke [Throws her an angry glance and yells out, full of rage.]:

Zshutshke dead. Zshutshke buried. You not laugh. [Weeps more, going to stand with his face to the oven.] I this way hold him. [Breaks out in wail like the mourning widow’s wail.] Who is left for me? Who? [With a cry, he falls with his face to the oven sleeping place. Tilye starts to laugh again, catches herself immediately and puts her hand to her mouth. Yudke goes to her with his face distorted by anger.] I you kill. I you strangle. [Gnashes his teeth and stretches out toward her his healthy right hand with the fingers crimped.]