“It’s from a chunk the Good Jew has tasted,” she said, triumphantly. “Eat it, and your heart will be lighter.”
“It will help me as much as blood-letting helps a dead man,” Miriam answered with a smile.
“Eat it, I say. You’ll get letters more often if you do.” For a woman to exchange love letters with the man from whom she has been divorced is quite a grave sin for a daughter of Israel to commit. The remedy Bathsheba recommended was therefore something like the prayer of a thief that the Lord may bless his business. But then Miriam questioned the power of the rabbi’s “leavings” to bring a blessing upon any business. She smiled.
“How do you know it is nonsense? Maybe it isn’t, after all,” Bathsheba urged.
“You’re a foolish little dear.”
“If I were you I should eat it. What can you lose by it?”
Maria, a Gentile servant who had been longer in the house than Bathsheba, came in. She spoke Yiddish excellently and was almost like a member of the family.
“Take a bite and you will be blessed, Maria,” Miriam joked, holding out the cake to her. “It’s from a piece the Good Jew has tasted.”
“If I was a Jewess I would,” Maria retorted reproachfully. “It’s a sin to make mock of a Good Jew.”
The other two burst into a laugh.