The two stood gaping blindly, paralysed by the scene before them.
Suddenly—roused by the terrible betrayal—the mother uttered a distorted sob of grief. “Feivel—son mein! What have you done to me?”
Moisheh grasped the old woman more firmly as the bride tossed her head coquettishly and turned possessive eyes on her husband—their son and brother.
The onlookers murmured appreciatively, thrilled by the pretty romance.
Enraged by the stupid joy of the crowd which mocked her misery, the old mother broke from Moisheh’s hold with wiry strength and clawed wildly at the people around her.
“Feivel—black curses——!” she hissed—and then she crumpled, fainting, into Moisheh’s arms.
Unaware of the disturbance outside, the happy couple passed into the festive reception hall.
With quick self-control, Moisheh motioned to a taxicab out of which had just emerged another wedding guest. Then he gently lifted the fainting form of the little mother in beside him.
And all through the night the bitter tears of betrayed motherhood poured over the shrunken bosom where Feivel, as a suckling infant, had once helped himself to life.