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A Jew, even if he sins, still remains a Jew.

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A Jewish soul — seeks a pious scholar for a son-in-law. Never you mind. God will help you. The Lord loves a repentant sinner. But you must give generous donations to the students of the Law. If you cannot study the Law yourself, at least support those who can, for the whole world rests upon the Holy Law. Pointing to Yekel. I knew his father. He was a fine man. Believe me, the Lord will come to his aid, and he will become a Jew as worthy as any other. The important thing is to repent deep in your heart, — that is, you must abandon the path of iniquity that you've followed hitherto.

Yekel , summoning courage, he approaches Reb Ali. Just let me make a little more money, Reb Ali, so that I can give my daughter a handsome dowry, and my name isn't Yekel Tchaftchovitch if I don 't go out of the business altogether. I'll deal in horses, just as my father did, may his soul rest in peace. I'll get together a stable of horses and go to the Lovitch fair. And my son-in-law will be sitting inside there studying the sacred Law. I'll come home for the Sabbath and sit down right here and listen to him reading from the Commentaries.

And if I lie, my name isn't Yekel. It's all right. The Lord will come to your aid. Yes, God will help you. Isn't that so, Reb Aaron? Who can tell? Our Lord is a God of mercy and forgiveness, but He is also a God of retribution and vengeance. Well, it's getting late. Let's be off to the synagogue. He must help you. Come, come and take your Holy Scroll home in rejoicing. About to depart. Yekel hesitates, undecided. Reb Ali notices this. You want to speak a few words with your wife, — to tell her to prepare for our return with the Scroll? Yekel , at the door, uncertain, pointing to himself.

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Reb Ali, you're a good Rebbi. About to embrace Reb Ali; suddenly recalls himself and draws back. A good Rebbi, may I live so! Reb Ali and Yekel leave together. The evening shadows gather. Sarah , betakes herself assiduously to cleaning the room and setting the table.

Calls into Rifkele's room. Rifkele , appears on the threshold of her door, uncertain. He went to the synagogue with Reb Ali and the Scribe. The Rabbi will soon be coming, and other guests, too. Rifkele , showing the cover for the Holy Scroll. Yes, yes. I see. But comb your hair. The guests will soon be here. The Rabbi and. I'll call up Manke and have her comb me. I love to have her comb me. She does it so beautifully. Makes my hair so smooth. And her hands are so cool. Takes something and taps the floor with it, calling.

What are you doing? Your father will be furious! It isn't becoming for you to chum with Manke. You're already a marriageable young lady, a virtuous child. And we've just been talking about some good matches for you, — excellent matches with learned scholars. It's a shame for you to chum with Manke, I tell you! You are a decent girl; you'll have clean, respectable girls to go around with.

We're arranging a match for you, an excellent match. Your father's just gone to see the bridegroom, Reb Ali said,. Goes into the next room, We must wash, dress, and put on our best clothes. The guests will be here at any moment. Appears in the doorway at the rear. First she thrusts in her head, shaking her finger playfully at Rifkele; Rifkele goes over to her, walking cautiously backwards, beckoning to her as she does so.

The room is fast growing dark. Rifkele , falls into Manke's arms. To her mother. Yes, daughter dear. A handsome sweetheart, with two jet-black temple-locks and a satin coat, and a velvet skull-cap, dressed just like a Rabbi. He's a Rabbi's son, Reb Ali said. Rifkele , in Manke' s embrace, caressing Manke' s cheeks. He'll live there with you and study the Holy Law. Ever so much, daughter dear, ever so much.

And you'll have pure, respectable children, virtuous children. On one of the lounges sleeps Shloyme; his long boots reach to a nearby bench. It is a night in spring. Halts for a moment upon the top stair and looks down at Shloyme, She is wrapped in a thin shawl, coquettishly dressed in a skirt much too short for her age. Descends into the cellar, stepping noisily so as to wake Shloyme. Hindel , looks around. Runs over to one of the screened compartments and listens, then runs back to Shloyme. Shloyme, I don't want to leave this place. Tell me, as truly as there is a God in heaven, — tell me, do you really mean to marry me?

Go, my grand dame. Make knots in your shirt and hide your money there, and then run to "Uncle" Yekel and complain that I take all your earnings, — that you haven't even enough to buy yourself a hat. Yes, I did tell him that. It made me furious and cut me to the quick, — to have you tear the very clothes off my back and then go and make eyes at that yellow bitch.

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I'll dash vitriol into her face. Why, her breath smells terribly. How can anybody get near such a thing? A fine young lady he's hunted out! Away from me! I'll give you such a crack between the eyes that you'll see your great-great-granny's ghost! Crack away! Tear strips of skin off my body. Pushing up one of her sleeves and showing him her arm.

You've covered me with black and blue marks. Baring her other arm. Here, pinch, slash, whatever you will. Then it's no. That's the way I like to do things. Only no deceit. Do you want money? A coat? Only no fooling me. Walks off. Hindel , drawing aside the curtain of her compartment. You object, do you? Have it your way. But you're not too angry to pour a fellow a glass of tea, are you? Hindel , fetches him a glass of tea from her compartment and places it upon the cellar table.

She then returns to her place and sits down before her trunk of clothes, as if looking for something. After a brief silence she addresses Shloyme, from her compartment. So you like her, eh?. Well, well. Then you can hire a barrel-organ and take her around people's backyards.

A fine hurdy-gurdyman you'd make, upon my word. I'll throw you a two-kopeck-piece from the window, I promise. And who'll do that? Striding into Hindel's compartment. Who'll do the knifing, eh? He struggles with her, tearing from her grasp a red waist. He returns to the cellar. Now we'll see. He rips the waist open eagerly. A photograph falls to the floor. Moyshe the locksmith! So that's your champion, is it? And since when have you become so thick with him?

Goes back to her room. This is what business it is of mine! He gives her a hard slap; she falls upon her bed and begins to weep. So you're going around with Moyshe the locksmith, are you? Exchanging photographs, eh? A regular pair of sweethearts! And all behind my back? He returns to his table. And I knew nothing about it. Drinks more tea, arises, and mounts the stairs.

He stops at the door. She does not answer. Come here this instant! No reply. He stamps his foot, then runs down the flight of stairs in a rage. Come here, I tell you! Do you hear what I say! I've got my eye on one — as beautiful as the day, [9] and still untouched. She comes to Manke every night. Steals out of her home. Nobody sees her. Something seems to draw her here. Rifkele , thrusting her bare head through the window, beckoning to Hindel. Rifkele , slender and beautiful; dressed modestly, and wrapped in a black shawl; steals through the door, runs down the stairs with trembling caution.

She speaks more with signs than with words. Pointing to a screened compartment. There, with. Approaches the curtain of Manke' s room and listens with passionate intentness, looking around every other moment with palpitant apprehension. As long as there's enough left to buy some furniture with. The place must make a decent showing. The door is suddenly banged open and Yekel bursts in. Yekel , his face still hetrays signs of his cunning and of his youthful dissipation. Removes his hat and shakes the rain from it. A fine business! It has to rain!

Suddenly noticing Rifkele, he explodes with rage. You here! Seizes her by the collar and shakes her, clinching his teeth. What are you doing here? Mamma told me. Bursting into tears. Papa, don't hit me! Your mother. With a loud outcry. Your mother! Dragging her upstairs. She'll lead you to ruin yet! Something draws her to it! She wants her daughter to be what the mother was. I'll teach you to mind your father!

Leads her out. Rifkele's crying is heard from without. There's a virtuous Yekel for you! It doesn't become his dignity for his daughter to be a brothel-woman. He must be giving it to his wife now, all right! He's right. A mother should guard her daughter well. Whatever you were, you were, but once you marry and have a child, watch over it.

Just wait. If God should bless us with children, I'll know how to bring them up. My daughter will be as pure as a saint, with cheeks as red as beets. I won't let an eye gaze upon her. And she'll marry a respectable fellow, with an orthodox wedding. We'll see about that, all in due season. But talk to Rifkele in the meantime. Work upon her, I say. Otherwise everything's lost. It's time to close up. It's raining. In any case no dog's going to stick his snout into this place tonight.

With a sharp look at Shloyme. Enough, enough of this billing and cooing. Time to close up. To bed! Time to go to sleep! From without are heard girls' voices: "Soon. Right away! Goes up the steps. As he is about to go out he comes face to face with Yekel. They eye each other. Shloyme , thrusting his hands into his trousers pocket.

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Looks sharply at Yekel. Shloyme , leaving, with a defiant glance at Yekel. As if I need him here! Pointing to Hindel. You may take your old carcass along with you and start a place of your own. People don't open places with old carcasses. You merely lie down to rest with them.

But little dolls. Enter two girls, running. Rain is dripping from their wet, filmy dresses and from their unbraided hair. They are in a merry mood and speak with laughter. Yekel leaves, slamming the door behind him. Basha , a stout girl, with red cheeks. Naive in manner; she speaks with a harsh accent. What a sweet odor the rain has! Shaking raindrops off her clothes. Just like the apples at home drying, in the lofts. This is the first May rain. Such a crazy idea: to stand in the rain. As if they'll attract the whole world. Nobody'd ever show up in a downpour like this. Goes into her compartment and sits down near her trunk, packing various articles.

To the deuce with the whole lot of them. We were standing under the eaves, the rain is so fragrant. It washes the whole winter off your head. Goes over to Hindel. Just look. Showing her wet hair. How fresh it is. At home, in my village, the first sorrel must be sprouting. Yes, at the first May rain they cook sorrel soup. And the goats must be grazing in the meadows. And the rafts must be floating on the stream. And Franek is getting the Gentile girls together, and dancing with them at the inn.

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  8. And the women must surely be baking cheese-cakes for the Feast of Weeks. Do you know what? I'm going to buy myself a new summer tippet and go home for the holidays. Runs into her room, brings out a large summer hat and a long veil; she places the hat upon her wet hair and surveys herself in the looking-glass. Just see! If I'd ever come home for the holidays rigged up in this style, and promenade down to the station. They'd just burst with envy. Wouldn't they? If only I weren't afraid of my father!

    He'd kill me on the spot. He's on the hunt for me with a crowbar. Once he caught me dancing with Franek at the village tavern and he gave me such a rap over the arm with a rod Showing her arm. I come from a fine family. My father is a butcher. Talk about the fellows that were after me! In a low voice.

    They tried to make a match between me and Nottke the meat-chopper.

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    I've got his gold ring still. Indicating a ring upon her finger. He gave it to me at the Feast of Tabernacles. Because I didn't. He always smelled meat. His name is Pshorik. Think of marrying Pshorik and having a little Pshorik every year! Here, at least, I'm a free person. I've got my chest of finery, and dress swell. Fetching from her compartment a brown dress. When I go walking on Marshalkovski street in this dress they all stare at me.

    Fire and flame! If I could only put in an appearance in my home town dressed in this fashion, here's how I 'd promenade to the station. Struts across the room like a lady of fashion, raising her skirt at the back and assuming a cosmopolitan air. They'd die of jealousy, I tell you. They'd be stricken with apoplexy on the spot. Promenades about the room playing the grand dame.

    Reizel , straightens the folds of Basha's dress in the back and adjusts her hat to a better angle. That's the way! Now raise your head a bit higher. Who needs to know that you were ever in a place of this sort? You'll tell them that you were with a big business house. A Count has fallen in love with you. Hindel , from her room, where she is still busy with her chest of clothes.

    And what's the matter with a place of this sort, I'd like to know? Aren't we every bit as good as the girls in the business houses, eh? The whole world is like that nowadays; that's what the world demands. In these days even the daughters of the best families aren't any better. This is our way of earning a living. We know what a man is. Do you imagine they wouldn't recognize me right away?

    Their hearts would tell them. You know, my mother died from the shock. She couldn't live through it. To this day I haven't visited her grave.

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    Suddenly comes to a halt. Sometimes she comes before me. At night I see her in my dreams. She appears to me in her shroud, covered with thorns and briers, because of my sins. And she pulls me by the hair. Shut up, will you? Late at night they have to start telling stories about the dead. No dead people can come here. Our boss has a Holy Scroll upstairs. A sudden hush. What's wrong about our trade, I'd like to know? She leaves her little room and goes into the cellar.

    Wasn't our mistress in a house like this for fifteen years? Yet she married. And isn't she a respectable God-fearing woman? Doesn't she observe all the laws that a Jewish daughter must keep? And isn't her Rifkele a pure child? And isn't our boss a respectable man? Doesn't he give the biggest donations to charity? And he's had a Holy Scroll written.

    But they say that you mustn't read from such a Holy Scroll, and that the daughter of such mothers become what the mothers themselves were. An old fortune-teller, — a sorceress told it to me. That's a rotten lie! Where's the old gypsy who told you that? I'd scratch her eyes out for her! There is a God in heaven, I say! We have a God in Heaven! Manke , steals from her compartment into the cellar. She is half-dressed, with a shawl thrown over her. Her colored stockings are visible, and her hair is in disorder. Her eyes sparkle with wanton cunning. Her face is long, and insolently pretty; she is quite young.

    A lock of hair falls over her forehead. Again, there are men in most of these rooms, ready to shoot, so be cautious. Eat rations and tonics that increase your Dead Eye when needed. See the screenshot below for where to find Bronte upstairs. This man in the screenshot will block your way. Take him out, and move forward to find Bronte. A short cutscene plays, and fortunately for you, his gun malfunctions, letting you knock him out with ease. Grab him. Scroll through our gallery for the full rankings of summer show's debuts. TheWrap will update this post as more new broadcast series start.

    Find our Fall TV version of these rankings here and the midseason list here. Belvedere to Joey Gladstone Photos. Your browser does not support iframes. Dreams really do come true sometimes. View this post on Instagram. Special post-"Bachelorette" debut earned 3.

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