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The nobleman took off his jacket and remained in his vest, on which hung a solidgold-watch chain. He rolled up his sleeves. "Mother, I was a baker for many years in New York," he said, and he began to knead the dough.
Berlcha wept for joy. Her strength left her, and she slumped onto the bed.
Berl said, "Women will always be women." And he went to the shed to get more wood. The goat sat down near the oven; she gazed with surprise at this strange man.
The neighbors had heard the good news that Berl's son had arrived from America and they came to greet him. The women began to help Berlcha prepare for the Sabbath. Some laughed, some cried. The room was full of people, as at a wedding. After Berlcha lit the candles, father and son went to the little synagogue across the street. A new snow had fallen. The son took large steps, but Berl warned him, "Slow down."
In the synagogue the Jews sang their prayers. All the time, the snow outside kept falling. When Berl and Samuel left the Holy Place, the village was unrecognizable. Everything was covered in snow. One could see only the contours of the roofs and the candles in the windows. Samuel said, "Nothing has changed here."
Berlcha had prepared fish, chicken soup with rice, meat, carrot stew. The family ate and drank, and when it grew quiet for a while one could hear the chirping of the house cricket.
