threw in onto the floor and hastily left the room.

Father and mother stood and looked at each other in dismay.

* * * * *

The day after the marriage ceremony, the bridegroom's mother rose early,
and, bearing large scissors, and the wig and a hood which she had
brought from her home as a present for the bride, she went to dress the
latter for the "breakfast."

But the groom's mother remained outside the room, because the bride had
locked herself in, and would open her door to no one.

The groom's mother ran calling aloud for help to her husband, who,
together with a dozen uncles and brothers-in-law, was still sleeping
soundly after the evening's festivity. She then sought out the
bridegroom, an eighteen-year-old boy with his mother's milk still on his
lips, who, in a silk caftan and a fur cap, was moving about the room in
bewildered fashion, his eyes on the ground, ashamed to look anyone in
the face. In the end she fell back on the mother of the bride, and these
two went in to her together, having forced open the door between them.

"Why did you lock yourself in, dear daughter. There is no need to be
ashamed."

"Marriage is a Jewish institution!" said the groom's mother, and kissed
her future daughter-in-law on both cheeks.

The girl made no reply.

"Your mother-in-law has brought you a wig and a hood for the procession
to the Shool," said her own mother.

The band had already struck up the "Good Morning" in the next room.

"Come now, Kallehshi, Kalleh-leben, the guests are beginning to
assemble."

The groom's mother took hold of the plaits in order to loosen them.

The bride bent her head away from her, and fell on her own mother's
neck.

"I can't, Mame-leben! My heart won't let me, Mame-kron!"

She held her hair with both hands, to protect it from the other's
scissors.

"For God's sake, my daughter? my life," begged the mother.

"In the other world you will be plunged for this into rivers of fire.
The apostate who wears her own hair after marriage will have her locks
torn out with red hot pincers," said the other with the scissors.

A cold shiver went through the girl at these words.

"Mother-life, mother-crown!" she pleaded.

Her hands sought her hair, and the black silky tresses fell through them
in waves. Her hair, the hair which had grown with her growth, and lived
with her life, was to be cut off, and she was never, never to have it
again--she was to wear