Sholem Aleichem - Tevye the Dairyman and the Railroad Stories

“Amen,” I say. “It’s easy as pie to marry off a daughter. God simply has to find her the right man.”

“But that isn’t what I meant, Reb Tevye,” he says. “I meant that you not only needn’t put up a penny’s dowry for your Tsaytl, or buy her the things a girl needs for her wedding, because I’ll take care of all that myself — you can also trust me to beef up your wallet while I’m at it …”

“Hold on there!” I said. “You’ll forgive me for saying so, but you’re talking just like in a butcher shop. What’s this about beef in my wallet? You should be ashamed of yourself! My Tsaytl, God forbid, is not up for sale to the highest bidder.”

“Ashamed?” he says. “And here I thought I was only being nice! I’ll tell you what, though: for you, I’ll even be ashamed. Far be it from me to object to your saving me money. Let’s just be quick about it, the sooner the better! I want a woman in my house, do you get me?”

“I certainly do,” I say. “For my part, I won’t stand in your way. But I’ll have to talk it over with the missus, because such things are her department. One doesn’t give away one’s eldest daughter every day. You know what Rashi says about it: Rokheyl mevakoh al boneho —that means there’s no one like a mother. And we’ll have to ask Tsaytl too, of course. You don’t want this to be the sort of wedding where everyone turns up but the bride …”

“What kind of a man are you!” he says. “Who asks? Go home and tell them, Reb Tevye, tell them it’s all been decided and that I’ll be waiting beneath the wedding canopy.”

“You musn’t talk like that, Reb Layzer Wolf,” I say. “A young girl isn’t a widow, to be married off at the drop of a hat.”

“Of course she’s not,” he says. “A girl is a girl and a hat is a hat. That’s why I want it settled quickly, because there’s still a whole lot to talk about, pots, pans, and petticoats. But first, Reb Tevye, what say we drink to it, eh?”

“Why not?” I say. “I never turn down a drink. Among friends it’s always appropriate. A man is only a man, as they say, but brandy is still brandy. You’ll find that in the Talmud too.” And with that I began spouting whole passages of Gemara, mixed in with some prayers and a bit of the Haggadah, such as no one ever dreamed of before …

In a word, we put a few drops of brandy beneath our belts without keeping count of how many and then, when old Pug Nose brought the samovar, switched to tea-and-brandy punch, jabbering away all the while in the friendliest of fashions about the wedding, and God knows what else, and the wedding again, until I said, “I hope you realize, Reb Layzer Wolf, what a diamond it is that you’re getting.”

“You hope I realize?” he says. “Do you think I would have asked for her if I didn’t?”

“A diamond,” I say, raising my voice, “and twenty-four carats too! You better take good care of her and not act like the butcher you are …”

“Don’t you worry about that, Reb Tevye,” he says. “She’ll eat better by me every day of the week than by you at your Passover seder!”

“Eat!” I say. “How much can a person eat? A rich man can’t eat the gold in his safe, nor a poor man the stones in his shoes. Just how do you think a Jew as crude as yourself is even going to appreciate her cooking? Why, the hallahs she bakes, her gefillte fish … good Lord, Reb Layzer Wolf, her gefillte fish … lucky is the man who gets to taste it …”

“Reb Tevye,” he says, “you’ll forgive me for saying so, but what does an old prune like you know about it? You don’t know the first thing about anything, Reb Tevye, you don’t even know the first thing about me!”

“If you were to give me all the rice in China,” I say, “I wouldn’t take it for my Tsaytl. Listen here, Reb Layzer Wolf, I don’t care if you have two hundred thousand to your name, you aren’t worth the little toe of her left foot!”

“Believe you me, Reb Tevye,” he says, “if you didn’t happen to be older than me, I’d tell you to your face what a fool you are.”

Well, we must have gone at it hammer and tongs until we were good and sozzled, because when I arrived home it was late at night and my feet felt made out of lead. My wife, may her life be a long one, saw right away how pie-eyed I was and gave me the welcome I deserved.

“Ssshhh, don’t be angry with me, Golde,” I said, feeling so merry that I could have broken right into a jig. “Stop screaming at me, light of my life, and wish me a mazel tov instead!”

“A mazel tov?” she says. “I’ll wish you a mazel tov you’ll never forget! I’ll bet you went and sold our poor brown cow to Layzer Wolf, after all.”

“Oh, it’s worse than that,” I say.

“What?” she says. “You swapped her for a cow of his? Just wait till the poor devil finds out how you cheated him!”

“You’re not even warm yet,” I say.

“For God’s sake,” she says, “out with it! Do I have to pay you money for each word?”

“Mazel tov to you, Golde!” I said again. “Mazel tov to us both. Our Tsaytl is engaged.”

“My God, are you ever potted!” she says. “It’s no joke, the man’s hallucinating! How many drinks did you say you had?”

“Layzer Wolf and I had more than one between us,” I say, “and a bit of punch to wash it down with, but I swear I’m as sober as can be. It’s my pleasure to inform you, my dear brother Golde, that our Tsaytl has had the good fortune to be betrothed to Layzer Wolf himself!”

And with that I told her the whole story from beginning to end, the who, where, when, and all the rest of it, not leaving out an iota. “So help me God now and forever, Tevye,” she said when I was done, “if something didn’t tell me all along that’s what Layzer Wolf wanted. You know what, though? I was frightened to think that maybe nothing would come of it … Oh, thank You, dear God, thank You, thank You, merciful Father! It should only be for the best. Tsaytl should live to grow old and be happy with him, because Frume Soreh, rest her soul, didn’t have such a wonderful time of it; but then she was, God forgive me, an impossible woman who couldn’t get along with a soul, not at all like our Tsaytl. Oh, thank You, thank You, God! What did I tell you, Tevye, you dummy! What’s the use of worrying? If it’s written in the stars, it will walk right in without knocking …”

“There’s no doubt about that,” I said. “It even says in the Bible—”

“Spare us your Bible!” she says. “We have to start planning for the wedding. First we should make a list for Layzer Wolf of all the things that Tsaytl will need. Linen goes without saying. And she doesn’t have a spare set of underthings, not even an extra pair of socks. And then there’s dresses — a silk one for the wedding and two woolen ones, one for summer and one for winter — and house frocks, and lingerie, and a fur coat … no, I want two: a plain cat fur for everyday and a good fox fur for Sabbaths and holidays. She’ll need high-heeled boots too, and a corset, and gloves, and handkerchiefs, and a parasol, and all kinds of other things that a young lady can’t do without …”

“Golde, my dearest,” I said to her, “since when are you such an expert on high fashion?”

“And why shouldn’t I be?” she says. “Don’t you suppose I have eyes? Don’t you think I’ve seen what they wear back home when they step out in Kasrilevke? Just you leave it to Layzer Wolf and me. He’s no pauper, and you can bet he won’t want the whole world calling him cheap. If you have to eat pork, you might as well eat it till it’s running down your chin …”

In short, we talked all night long until I said, “Round up what cheese and butter there is, my wife, and I’ll take it to Boiberik. Not that everything isn’t fine and dandy right here, but we can’t just forget about the business. Haneshomoh lokh , it says — our souls may be God’s but someone better look after our bodies.”