ff--he would say
further--is firm, full, and smooth as the best calf's leather. And
durable? Why, it's a piece out of the heart of the strongest ox, or the
tongue of the Messianic ox itself! Do you know how many winters this
quilt has lasted already? But enough! That is not why I have sent for
you. We are neither of us, thanks to His blessed Name, do-nothings. The
long and short of it is this: I wish to make out of this--you understand
me?--out of this material, out of this piece of stuff, a thing, an
article, that shall draw everybody to it, a fruit that is worth saying
the blessing over, something superfine. An instance: what, for example,
tell me, what would you do, if I gave this piece of goods into your
hands, and said to you: Reb Yitzchok-Yossel, as you are (without sin be
it spoken!) an old workman, a good workman, and, besides that, a good
comrade, and a Jew as well, take this material, this stuff, and deal
with it as you think best. Only let it be turned into a sort of costume,
a sort of garment, so that not only Kabtzonivke, but all Kamenivke,
shall be bitten and torn with envy. Eh? What would you turn it into?"

Yitzchok-Yossel was silent, Reb Yitzchok-Yossel went nearly out of his
mind, nearly fainted for joy at these last words. He grew pale as death,
white as chalk, then burning red like a flame of fire, and sparkled and
shone. And no wonder: Was it a trifle? All his life he had dreamed of
the day when he should be given a free hand in his work, so that
everyone should see who Yitzchok-Yossel is, and at the end came--the
trousers, Reb Yecheskel Melammed's trousers! How well, how cleverly he
had made them! Just think: trousers and upper garment in one! He had
been so overjoyed, he had felt so happy. So sure that now everyone would
know who Yitzchok-Yossel Broitgeber is! He had even begun to think and
wonder about Malkeh the orphan--poor, unfortunate orphan! Had she ever
had one single happy day in her life? Work forever and next to no food,
toil till she was exhausted and next to no drink, sleep where she could
get it: one time in Elkoneh the butcher's kitchen, another time in
Yisroel Dintzis' attic ... and when at last she got married (good luck
to her!), she became the wife of Yitzchok-Yossel Broitgeber! And the
wedding took place in the burial-ground. On one side they were digging
graves, on the other they were bringing fresh corpses. There was weeping
and wailing, and in the middle of it all, the musicia