The recital of their common griefs softened her toward him.
"Go!" she whispered. "Go and send me the Get. Go to the Maggid, he knew my grandfather. He is the man to arrange it for thee with his friends. Tell him it is my wish."
"God shall reward thee. How can I thank thee for giving thy consent?"
"What else have I to give thee, my Herzel, I who eat the bread of strangers? Truly says the Proverb, 'When one begs of a beggar the Herr God laughs!'"
"I will send thee the Get as soon as possible."
"Thou art right, I am a thorn in thine eye. Pluck me out quickly."
"Thou wilt not refuse the Get, when it comes?" he replied apprehensively.
"Is it not a wife's duty to submit?" she asked with grim irony. "Nay, have no fear. Thou shalt have no difficulty in serving the Get upon me. I will not throw it in the messenger's face.... And thou wilt marry her?"
"Assuredly. People will no longer talk. And she must needs bide with me. It is my one desire."
"It is mine likewise. Thou must atone and save thy soul."