THE PARTING.
It was on a bright frosty morning in the following January, in the
kitchen of Rabbi Aaronovitz, on the third floor of a rickety old
tenement house, that Jake and Gitl, for the first time since his
flight, came face to face. It was also to be their last meeting as
husband and wife.
The low-ceiled room was fairly crowded with men and women. Besides the
principal actors in the scene, the rabbi, the scribe, and the
witnesses, and, as a matter of course, Mrs. Kavarsky, there was the
rabbi's wife, their two children, and an envoy from Mamie, charged to
look after the fortitude of Jake's nerve. Gitl, extremely careworn and
haggard, was "in her own hair," thatched with a broad-brimmed winter
hat of a brown colour, and in a jacket of black beaver. The rustic,
"greenhornlike" expression was completely gone from her face and
manner, and, although she now looked bewildered and as if
terror-stricken, there was noticeable about her a suggestion of that
peculiar air of self-confidence with which a few months' life in
America is sure to stamp the looks and bearing of every immigrant.
Jake, flushed and plainly nervous and fidgety, made repeated attempts
to conceal his state of mind now by screwing up a grim face, now by
giving his enormous head a haughty posture, now by talking aloud to his
escort.
The tedious preliminaries were as trying to the rabbi as they were to
Jake and Gitl. However, the venerable old man discharged his duty of
dissuading the young couple from their contemplated step as
scrupulously as he dared in view of his wife's signals to desist and
not to risk the fee. Gitl, prompted by Mrs. Kavarsky, responded to all
questions with an air of dazed resignation, while Jake, ever conscious
of his guard's glance, gave his answers with bravado. At last the
scribe, a gaunt middle-aged man, with an expression of countenance at
once devout and businesslike, set about his task. Whereupon Mrs.
Aaronovitz heaved a sigh of relief, and forthwith banished her two boys
into the parlour.
An imposing stillness fell over the room. Little by little, however, it
was broken, at first by whispers and then by an unrestrained hum. The
rabbi, in a velvet skullcap, faded and besprinkled with down, presided
with pious dignity, though apparently ill at ease, at the head of the
table. Alternately stroking his yellowish-gray beard and curling his
scanty side locks, he kept his eyes on the open book before him, now
and then stealing a glance at the other end of the table, where the
scribe was rapturously drawing the square characters of the holy
tongue.
Gitl carefully looked away from Jake. But he invincibly haunted her
mind, rendering her deaf to Mrs. Kavarsky's incessant buzz. His
presence terrified her, and at the same time it melted her soul in a
fire, torturing yet sweet, which impelled her at one moment to throw
herself upon him and scratch out his eyes, and at another to prostrate
herself at his feet and kiss them in a flood of tears.
Jake, on the other hand, eyed Gitl quite frequently, with a kind of
malicious curiosity. Her general Americanized make up, and, above all,
that broad-brimmed, rather fussy, hat of hers, nettled him. It seemed
to defy him, and as if devised for that express purpose. Every time she
and her adviser caught his eye, a feeling of devouring hate for both
would rise in his heart. He was panting to see his son; and, while he
was thoroughly alive to the impossibility of making a child the witness
of a divorce scene between father and mother, yet, in his fury, he
interpreted their failure to bring Joey with them as another piece of
malice.
"Ready!" the scribe at length called out, getting up with the document
in his hand, and turning it over to the rabbi.
The rest of the assemblage also rose from their seats, and clustered
round Jake and Gitl, who had taken places on either side of the old
man. A beam of hard, cold sunlight, filtering in through a grimy
window-pane and falling lurid upon the rabbi's wrinkled brow, enhanced
the impressiveness of the spectacle. A momentary pause ensued, stern,
weird, and casting a spell of awe over most of the bystanders, not
excluding the rabbi. Mrs. Kavarsky even gave a shudder and gulped down
a sob.
"Young woman!" Rabbi Aaronovitz began, with bashful serenity, "here is
the writ of divorce all ready. Now thou mayst still change thy mind."
Mrs. Aaronovitz anxiously watched Gitl, who answered by a shake of her
head.
"Mind thee, I tell thee once again," the old man pursued, gently. "Thou
must accept this divorce with the same free will and readiness with
which thou hast married thy husband. Should there be the slightest
objection hidden in thy heart, the divorce is null and void. Dost thou
understand?"
"Say that you are _saresfied_," whispered Mrs. Kavarsky.
"_Ull ride_, I am _salesfiet_" murmured Gitl, looking down on the
table.
"Witnesses, hear ye what this young woman says? That she accepts the
divorce of her own free will," the rabbi exclaimed solemnly, as if
reading the Talmud.
"Then I must also tell you once more," he then addressed himself to
Jake as well as to Gitl, "that this divorce is good only upon condition
that you are also divorced by the Government of the land--by the
court--do you understand? So it stands written in the separate paper
which you get. Do you understand what I say?"
"_Dot'sh alla right_," Jake said, with ostentatious ease of manner. "I
have already told you that the _dvosh_ of the _court_ is already
_fikshed_, haven't I?" he added, even angrily.
Now came the culminating act of the drama. Gitl was affectionately
urged to hold out her hands, bringing them together at an angle, so as
to form a receptacle for the fateful piece of paper. She obeyed
mechanically, her cheeks turning ghastly pale. Jake, also pale to his
lips, his brows contracted, received the paper, and obeying directions,
approached the woman who in the eye of the Law of Moses was still his
wife. And then, repeating word for word after the rabbi, he said:
"Here is thy divorce. Take thy divorce. And by this divorce thou art
separated from me and free for all other men!"
Gitl scarcely understood the meaning of the formula, though each Hebrew
word was followed by its Yiddish translation. Her arms shook so that
they had to be supported by Mrs. Kavarsky and by one of the witnesses.
At last Jake deposited the writ and instantly drew back.
Gitl closed her hands upon the paper as she had been instructed; but at
the same moment she gave a violent tremble, and with a heartrending
groan fell on the witness in a fainting swoon.
In the ensuing commotion Jake slipped out of the room, presently
followed by Mamie's ambassador, who had remained behind to pay the
bill.
* * * * *
Gitl was soon brought to by Mrs. Kavarsky and the mistress of the
house. For a moment or so she sat staring about her, when, suddenly
awakening to the meaning of the ordeal she had just been through, and
finding Jake gone, she clapped her hands and burst into a fit of
sobbing.
Meanwhile the rabbi had once again perused the writ, and having caused
the witnesses to do likewise, he made two diagonal slits in the paper.
"You must not forget, my daughter," he said to the young woman, who was
at that moment crying as if her heart would break, "that you dare not
marry again before ninety-one days, counting from to-day, go by; while
you--where is he, the young man? Gone?" he asked with a frustrated
smile and growing pale.
"You want him badly, don't you?" growled Mrs. Kavarsky. "Let him go I
know where, the every-evil-in-him that he is!"
Mrs. Aaronovitz telegraphing to her husband that the money was safe in
her pocket, he remarked sheepishly: "_He_ may wed even to-day."
Whereupon Gitl's sobs became still more violent, and she fell to
nodding her head and wringing her hands.
"What are you crying about, foolish face that you are!" Mrs. Kavarsky
fired out. "Another woman would thank God for having at last got rid of
the lump of leavened bread. What say you, rabbi? A rowdy, a sinner of
Israel, a _regely loifer_, may no good Jew know him! _Never min'_, the
Name, be It blessed, will send you your destined one, and a fine,
learned, respectable man, too," she added significantly.
Her words had an instantaneous effect. Gitl at once composed herself,
and fell to drying her eyes.
Quick to catch Mrs. Kavarsky's hint, the rabbi's wife took her aside
and asked eagerly:
"Why, has she got a suitor?"
"What is the _differentz_? You need not fear; when there is a wedding
canopy I shall employ no other man than your husband," was Mrs.
Kavarsky's self-important but good-natured reply.