"
"Why, is he rich?"
"His son-in-law is, but then his daughter cherishes him as she does
the apple of her eye, and--well, when the Lord of the World
wishes to give a man happiness he gives him good children, don't
you know."
He rattled on, betraying his envy of the venerable-looking man in
various ways and telling me all he knew about him--that he was a
widower named Even, that he had been some years in America,
and that his daughter furnished him all the money he needed and a
good deal more, so that "he lived like a monarch." Even would not
live in his daughter's house, however, because her kitchen was not
conducted according to the laws of Moses, and everything else in
it was too modern. So he roomed and boarded with pious
strangers, visiting her far less frequently than she visited him and
never eating at her table.
"He is a very proud man," my informant said. "One must not
approach him otherwise than on tiptoe."
I threw a glance at Even. His dignified singsong seemed to confirm
my interlocutor's characterization of him
"Perhaps you will ask me how his son-in-law takes it all?" the
voluble Talmudist went on.
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