ity for her. He went up to the bed, and stood a long while looking at
her, after which he called softly:

"Channehle ... Channehle ... Channehle...."

She opened her eyes with a frightened start, and looked round in sleepy
wonder:

"Nosson, did you call? What do you want?

"Nothing, your cap has slipped off," he said, lifting up the white
nightcap, which had fallen from her head.

She flung it on again, and wanted to turn towards the wall.

"Channehle, Channehle, I want to talk to you."

The words went to her heart. The whole time since their marriage he had,
so to say, not spoken to her. During the day she saw nothing of him, for
he spent it in the house-of-study or in the Stuebel. When he came home to
dinner, he sat down to the table in silence. When he wanted anything, he
asked for it speaking into the air, and when really obliged to exchange
a word with her, he did so with his eyes fixed on the ground, too shy to
look her in the face. And now he said he wanted to talk to her, and in
such a gentle voice, and they two alone together in their room!

"What do you want to say to me?" she asked softly.

"Channehle," he began, "please, don't make a fool of me, and don't make
a fool of yourself in people's eyes. Has not God decreed that we should
belong together? You are my wife and I am your husband, and is it
proper, and what does it look like, a married woman wearing her own
hair?"

Sleep still half dimmed her eyes, and had altogether clouded her thought
and will. She felt helpless, and her head fell lightly towards his
breast.

"Child," he went on still more gently, "I know you are not so depraved
as they say. I know you are a pious Jewish daughter, and His blessed
Name will help us, and we shall have pious Jewish children. Put away
this nonsense! Why should the whole world be talking about you? Are we
not man and wife? Is not your shame mine?"

It seemed to her as though _someone_, at once very far away and very
near, had come and was talking to her. Nobody had ever yet spoken to her
so gently and confidingly. And he was her husband, with whom she would
live so long, so long, and there would be children, and she would look
after the house!

She leant her head lightly against him.

"I know you are very sorry to lose your hair, the ornament of your
girlhood, I saw you with it when I was a guest in your home. I know
that God gave you grace and loveliness, I know. It cuts me to the heart
that your hair mu