In the meantime the Shofar blasts issued more strongly. It was the end. At the final passage a long drawn out and more impressive tone was given vent to. . . . On the Resurrection Day his wife Basha would also arise. Such a trumpet blast, yea, even a hundredfold stronger than this, would thrill the world, for not a mortal would press his lips to the Shofar, but an angel, perhaps the Archangel Michael himself! And the sound would fill the four ends of the earth, from the heights of Sinai to the nethermost regions of Hell. All who slumber in the sod would rise from their beds to behold the light of God's magnificence. Jubilation would reign everywhere, and the breath of life would re-enter, and strong young men would arise, blooming young women, beaming children, and there would be reunions. What joy!
And his wife Basha would also arise, for she was a righteous woman. But would her spirit be happy? Would she be able to console herself? Would she pardon him? A picture presents itself to him, and he sees her just as she appeared under the bridal canopy. But what a deep sorrow speaks from her eyes! She moves as if in doubt, and he understands what troubles her so, and he feels his heart dissolving in grief.
II
It was long since he had visited her grave; the mound was lonely and desolate; only the swine were groveling about, thrusting their nozzles into the earth. There was no monument, not a flower near by; only moss covered her last resting place, and ants ran in and out. The Christian churchyard was not far from it, and the graves there were shadowed by green trees. There everyone slept in the midst of his own, surrounded by relatives and friends, but only she lay in a deserted, forgotten corner, all alone. In death, too, she was to be torn from him. How terrible is such a lonely grave!
"Yet I alone am to blame; I brought the sorrow upon you, you poor soul," murmured Yossel, as if to console himself with that confession. "Yet with me it will not be better; when I am dead no one will recall my name; no one will say Kaddish after me; no one will light a candle on the anniversary of my death. But I have not deserved any better; I have earned my punishment; but why must you, on that account, be put to such grief, why?"
And the days of long ago passed before his spirit.
He lived in a village, many miles away from the city. In the same town there were perhaps twelve Jewish families. By dint of organized effort they gathered a Minyan and procured a teacher, who also performed the functions of Shochet. He himself was known in the neighborhood as a substantial householder, licensee of a wine house, with which a store was connected. In his house was established a room for the worship of the small congregation, and there, too, was the schoolroom, and the teacher ate at his table.
His wife, Basha, who, in the goodness of her heart, always welcomed the poor at her table, was especially proud to have the instructor of her children lodged under her roof. All her thoughts were directed to the end that her two