Judith Trachtenberg: A Novel

by Karl Emil Franzos

That same evening Raphael's neighbors heard the news. The following morning it passed from mouth to mouth, exciting universal horror and surprise. God had avenged the sin against his holy name, and hurled the sinner in the dust.

Judith Trachtenberg had come home a beggar, and sick unto death; and if she died, as those who had seen her thought she must, the account would be squared. There was no further occasion for pity or persecution. And because God himself had judged her, they praised Raphael for not having stayed his avenging arm, and blamed Miriam for showing compassion. "She will spoil her chance of future salvation." The milder ones said: "Besides the responsibility she has in regard to her own child, she is now assuming this." But the rougher Jews who, impelled by curiosity, had surrounded the little house in Roskowska since early morning, in the chance of catching a glimpse of the victim of God's wrath, judged differently. And when the old woman came out and entreated them either to go away or to make less noise, only a few complied with the modest request, the majority crying, "Shame upon you, to bring disgrace on the congregation!"

But the little old woman, who crept about generally under the overwhelming consciousness of her misfortune and bowed in humility before the humblest, gave way now not one step. She stood there, drawn up to her full height, with that sort of glorified expression on her withered face as had been there the previous evening when it dawned upon her that God had thus shown her a way of atonement. "Shame upon you!" she cried. "What do you know of God, and of what is disgrace in his sight? Go back, I say!" and there was something in her face and voice which awed them into obedience.

But only for a second. Then some one cried, "Have you found a Christian to marry you?" and these insulting words loosed the ban. However, help came to Miriam. One of the elders of the congregation, old Simeon Tragmann, came up, and, standing in front of the woman, said to the crowd, authoritatively, "Go! When God speaks, let man keep silence. Go! I command it in the name of your dead benefactor. If it was his wish that the sinner should be buried at his side, it was also his wish that she should be allowed to die in peace."

Sullenly they left the house, but they gathered together in knots in the street, clenching their fists and speaking with bated breath. Curiosity chained them to the spot, though they could not have said for what they were waiting. It was only the feeling that such an unheard-of circumstance must have some result.

For a time they waited in vain. Only the doctor, who had already been there at break of day, entered again. But while he was paying his second visit a carriage drove up in which the burgomaster was seated. When he saw the gathering of people, he felt greatly tempted to make a speech; but he remembered in time that he had come to see his ward, and so passed into the sick-room.

There he gave Miriam a large sum of money for Judith's use, inquiring of Dr. Reiser as to her condition. The doctor had no definite answer to give; he could only say she was suffering from a severe attack of nervous fever, and he did not know how it might end.

The burgomaster felt moved to give expression to his sympathy in some eloquent words, and, having once heard his own mellifluous tones, he passed into an oration in praise of Miriam and her generosity. But the old woman interrupted him curtly with a request that he should not excite the invalid, which request the doctor emphasized still more energetically by taking the Demosthenes by the arm and leading him to the door.

Then there was a sight which rewarded the on-lookers for their waiting. An equipage came in full speed from the castle, and stopped in front of the house. Count Agenor alighted, and, hastening to the two men, seized the doctor's hand, asking, "How is she?"

Dr. Reiser gave a cautious answer, nor was his manner the most affable in the world.