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Rabbi. The Rabbi always treated her with respect, and sometimes he
raised her salary.
Hirzl also hated the merchants. Often, when they raised their voices,
she would reproach them, "You mustn't raise your voice in the Rabbi's
office." She was an unfortunate woman, burdened with sorrows and not
healthy, but she did not conceal her opinions from anyone. If she saw
injustices or coarseness, she reproached people. At one time, when the
merchants were pressuring the Rabbi, she had risen and said, "Even in the
village people didn't plague the priest the way you plague the Rabbi."
The merchants, apparently not expecting such a scolding, smiled and fell
silent. She usually made her comments in the dark corridor that led out–
side and not in the Rabbi's presence. But, if there was no choice, she
plucked up her courage and voiced the reproach. At one time the mer–
chants wanted to have her discharged, but the Rabbi outwitted them.
He divulged their plot to one of the city counselors, a distant relative of
Hirzl's, and he intervened to prevent the wrong from being done. The
merchants, of course, never forgot that, and from then on they were
more cautious.
"They'll make arguments, I know, " said the Rabbi. "They always
find fault with my annual accounting. This time I'll reprove them. I
won't keep silent." Hirzl listened to his muttering and said, "I'll bring
you a cup of coffee."
"Thank you."
Hirzl normally didn't serve coffee to the Rabbi at this hour, but
when his mood was gloomy, and he was tense, she would bring him a
cup of coffee and some cheesecake. If the Rabbi asked about something,
she would tell him. She tried not to speak at length and to be precise.
During the past years the rumors had brought no joy to the heart. The
merchants grew richer and sent their sons and daughters to distant cities.
Before that they had them baptized in church so their path in life would
be prosperous. The Rabbi's memory was phenomenal, and he recalled
every merchant by name. All these years he had labored in vain to bring
them to the synagogue. Only on Yom Kippur would they put on their
striped suits and, with their wives, as though under some compulsion,
they gathered. Not all of them, of course. Were it not for the Christian
neighbors, they wouldn't even come on the Holy Day. The neighbors
were the only ones who reminded them that the Holy Day was ap–
proaching, and they had to close their shops, as their ancestors had done
before.
Many years earlier, in a dreadful fit of anger, the Rabbi had pro–
posed closing the synagogue, for a synagogue without a prayer quorum
was a disgrace, but they wouldn't agree to it. A synagogue is a syna-
