Judah the Pious by Francine Prose Page A

Then, closer, she stopped and stared at the young man who towered over her like the giant elms which surrounded them; she stood motionless, looking at his brown eyes, his generous mouth, his reddish-gold beard which flowed in waves down his broad chest, and she struggled to retain the composure which had never before threatened to desert her. “The truth is,” she said finally, forcing up a small chuckle which died immediately at the back of her throat, “the truth is that I have heard a great deal about a man named Judah ben Simon, and I have come to see for myself.”
    “And what are all these wonders you have heard about me?” sneered Judah.
    “I have heard that you already know more about the forest than the animals who can find their way through it in the dark. I have heard that you are becoming a great scientist who will someday be able to explain why the salmon swim upstream and die, and why the pine trees can laugh at their naked neighbors all through the winter. And,” she added with a smile, “I have heard that you have blond hair.”
    “You have heard some exaggerations,” replied the young man, pleased despite himself, “but no outright lies. And now that you have satisfied your curiosity, you can go back home.”
    “On the contrary,” answered Rachel Anna. “Now I am less satisfied than ever, for all these things have only strengthened my desire to become your wife.”
    Suddenly, it was Judah’s turn to stare, as he tried to understand why a complete stranger would come all the way out into the wilderness just to ridicule him.
    “King Casimir,” said the rabbi, “I would like you to stretch your memory until you can recall the time when you were younger, and still slightly uncomfortable in the presence of beautiful women.”
    “I will try,” replied the boy grandly, wrinkling his forehead and puffing out his chest.
    “Thank you,” smiled Eliezer. “For perhaps you will be able to understand all the jumbled emotions which spun through my hero’s mind, and perhaps you will not condemn him too harshly for the ungentlemanly way in which he received Rachel Anna’s proposal. For it is unpleasant, but necessary, for me to admit that he snarled like a bulldog, hunched his shoulders, and asked the lovely young woman why in the world he should want to marry her.
    “Because,” smiled Rachel Anna calmly, “I am more obstinate than any woman you have ever met. And more beautiful.”
    Startled into seeing her fiery hair and jewel-like eyes as if for the first time, Judah ben Simon grew even more uneasy. “I have seen prettier women,” he mumbled defensively, thinking of the boyhood hours he had spent speculating about the anatomy and love habits of a flirtatious, dowdy village washerwoman. “And the town is full of high-spirited girls,” he added, remembering the bashful merchants’ daughters whom, during those interminable afternoon teas, he had imagined lying in his bed, as foreign and repulsive to him as the carcasses of dead cows. Suddenly, he realized that this strange girl was speaking the truth, and confusion weakened his knees.
    “Well,” he muttered, “I can see that, having no intermediaries to speak for you, you have already begun singing your own praises. Then tell me: can you embroider pillowcases with so much skill that a man might mistake them for trappings from the temple altar? Tell me: can you brew a steaming samovar of sweet coffee with cardamoms? And can you polish a silver spoon so brightly that I might look into it and see my entire past and future?”
    “I can do none of those things,” answered the girl.
    “Then if you cannot perform these simple household chores,” persisted Judah ben Simon sarcastically, “how do you expect to learn all the complicated duties which might prove necessary for the wife of a woodsman?”
    “I am not an idiot,” snapped Rachel Anna. “Do you really think that I could not have learned to brew coffee if I had ever so desired? And I