There is stillness around. The lamp sheds its brightness over the little room, and casts their shadows onto the walls.
The heavy sleeping of the old people is audible behind the curtain.
And her head lies on his shoulder, and her thick black hair hides his face.
"How kind you are, Eleazar," she whispers through her tears.
And she opens her whole heart to him, tells him how it is with them now, how bad things are, they have pawned everything, and there is nothing left for to-morrow, nothing but the dowry!
He clasps her lovingly, and dries her cheeks with her apron end, saying: "Don't cry, Feigele, don't cry. It will all come right. And to-morrow, mind, you are to go to the postoffice, and take a little of the dowry, as much as you need, until your father, God helping, is well again, and able to earn something, and then...."
"And then ..." she echoes in a whisper.
"And then it will all come right," and his eyes flash into hers. "Just as you are ..." he whispers.
And she looks at him, and a smile crosses her face.
She feels so happy, so happy.