"What is your German name?"
"O, you mean that?... Directly, directly. Perelmann. You see my pearls?"
He points to a torn, red kerchief round his neck, and says: "Real pearls, ha? But that's what I'm called. How can I help it?"
"A wife?"
"You had better not put her down: she doesn't live with me. Since the misfortune, she doesn't live with me ... a nice wife, too. I would gladly have given her a divorce, but the rabbi wouldn't allow it. He said I mustn't. A nice little wife!"
And his eyes grew moist.
"She even took the child with her. It's better off with her—what should I do with it? Carry it about? They throw stones at me, and would have hurt it."
"One child is it you have?"
"One."
"What was your misfortune?"