Free Stempenyu: A Jewish Romance by Sholem Aleichem, Hannah Berman Page B

and again.
    It was not her fault if she sometimes forgot what was expected of her. If she sang, it was not because she wished to shame her husband’s relatives. When one comes upon the source of a river one may stop it from flowing. But when one does not see—when one does not know whence it comes, one cannot stop it. Not only during the time when she was merely engaged to Moshe-Mendel, but even after she was married to him, it happened many times that she forgot herself completely, and began to sing as of old, just as she used to do when she was a little girl, and cold sing as much as she liked without fear of breaking the code of laws laid down for married women. On one or two occasions she forgot that her mother-in-law was in the room, and that she heard every word she sang:
    “Oh, there, of, there,
    On yonder spot,
    Two little doves are standing.
    They talk and they kiss—
    But what can they have to say?
    They kiss and they talk—
    But what have they to say?”
    “Oh, goodness gracious me! See what I have done!” cried Rochalle, pulling herself up short, as her eyes fell on her mother-in-law.
    “Well, well, I don’t know!” was the other’s reassuring answer. She swung out her arms and thrust her nose forward. “See, Rochalle,” she added, “I am afraid the gooseberries are almost too ripe for the jam. Last year that happened to me, and I lost half a load of gooseberries.”
    As for singing before Moshe-Mendel—nothing on earth would have induced her to do it. She felt that it would be altogether too extravagant a thing to go and open her mouth in front of her husband, and to sing into his eyes. She was sure that such a thing had never been heard of. It may be that Moshe-Mendel would not have refused to listen to her. Indeed, he might even have gone so far as to show is appreciation of her voice. He had heard her sing an odd note at different times; and he knew that she had a sweet voice. But, how would it have looked if he had suddenly taken it into his head to stay at home and listen to his wife singing little songs? A nice thing for a respectable man to occupy himself with! It would mean that he deliberately gave the villagers something to talk about, putting it into their very mouths.
    On the few occasions when Rochalle had been singing in his hearing she had not known that he was near to her. He had listened to her for a little while, and then he coughed discreetly, to show her that he had only arrived on the spot, after which he came boldly forwardinto the middle of the room.
    A whole year passed by. Rochalle was surrounded by good friends and true; but, in spite of that, she felt very lonely. She was neither happy nor unhappy. Her strongest feelings were of loneliness, despite the goodness and the kindness which met her on all sides.
    Often, as she sat over her needlework, she would forget where she was, and would start singing. And, always the song reminded her of home and childhood. Her heart melted within her as the memories crowded fast on top of one another.
    “It flies, and it flies,
    The golden bird,
    Over a thousand seas!
    Oh, carry my greetings,
    Oh, golden bird,
    To my mother so far from me!”
    Dvossa-Malka was in the habit of stealing over on tip-toe until she was close enough to Rochalle to hear was she was singing. And, when she took in he meaning of the doggered verse, she would say:
    “What is the matter, Rochalle? Are you longing for your old home?”
    “Oh, no, no, no! I was just singing a little song to myself! Rochalle made haste to reply. She smiled up to Dvossa-Malka—a wistful, tender smile, as she forced back the tears which were rising to her eyes.

XIII      ROCHALLE GETS A LETTER
    We left Rochalle, on the morning after the wedding, standing at the door, and looking out upon the market-square of the village. She was absorbed in reverie, and forgot her surroundings. But, she was soon brought back to reality by our hero—Stempenyu.
    This same Stempenyu, who never