I stand repeating the Eighteen Benedictions, my heart and my eyes are alike full of tears, "Heal us, O Eternal, and we shall be healed!" I say with devotion, and I mean not the body, heaven forbid, I mean the soul: "Heal me, Almighty; heal my poor soul!"
"That's the soul-boy," says one to another, pointing at me. And it is all over with my devotion.
Thus I suffered day and night.
15
Gütele was held to be very clever; her father never called her anything but "my little wisdom," and the neighbors said she was as bright as the day, and that if she were as pious as she was clever, she would rejoice the heart of her mother in Paradise. My mother, too, used to praise her cleverness, and, if only Gütele had known more about koshering meat, she would not have wished for a better daughter-in-law.
And one day, when I found the teacher out, and Gütele alone, it occurred to me to ask her opinion about the soul.
My knees shook, my hands twitched, my heart fluttered; my eyes were fixed on the floor, and yet I asked: "They all say, Gütele, that you are so wise. Tell me, please, what is the soul?"
She smiled and answered:
"I'm sure, I don't know."
Then she grew suddenly sad and tears came into her eyes: