“Come, come, my good mother. Tell me without joking what they cost. This big one, and that little one over there.”
“But, Herr Rabbi, you surely cannot mean that that is too much! Well, well—an old friend—eleven cents, we’ll say. Will you take the big one or the little one?”
The rabbi was still smiling.
“My dear mother, you remind me of Sarai.”
“And who was she?” asked Mother Politsky with interest.
“Sarai was the beautiful daughter of the famous Rabbiner Emanuel ben Achad, who lived many hundreds of years ago. She was famed for her beauty, and likewise for her exceeding shrewdness. Yes, Sarai was very, very clever.”
“And I remind you of her? Well, well. What a beautiful thing it is to be a rabbi and know so much about the past! Come, now, I’ll say ten cents, and you can have your choice. Shall I wrap up the big——”
“This Sarai,” the rabbi went on, “had many lovers, but of them all she liked only two. One of these was the favourite of her father; the other was a poor but handsome youth who was apprenticed to a scribe. For a long time Sarai hesitated between the two. Each was handsome, each was a devoted lover, each was gifted with no ordinary intelligence, and each was brave. Yet she was undecided upon which to bestow her heart and her hand.”
The rabbi had picked up the big fish, and now paused to sniff at it.
“And what did she do?” asked Mother Politsky.