nd she would ask them all about everything, like any plain
Jewish housewife. And yet they were conscious of a great distance
between them and Chavveh. They would have liked Chavveh to hear nothing
of them but what was good, to stand justified in her eyes as (ten times
lehavdil) in those of a Christian. They could not have told why, but the
feeling was there.

They are proud of Chavveh; it is an honor for them each and all (and who
are they that they should venture to pretend to it?) to possess such a
Chavveh, who was highly spoken of even by rich Gentiles. Hence this
embarrassed smile at the mention of her name; she would certainly
advise, but at the same time they avoided each other's look. The wise
Malkeh had the same feeling, but she was able to cheer the rest. Never
mind! It doesn't matter telling her. She is a Jewish daughter, too, and
will keep it to herself. These things happen behind the "high windows"
also. Whereupon they all breathed more freely, and went up the hill to
Chavveh. They went in serried ranks, like soldiers, shoulder to
shoulder, relief and satisfaction reflected in their faces. All who met
them made way for them, stood aside, and wondered what it meant. Some of
their own husbands even stood and looked at the marching women, but not
one dared to go up to them and ask what was doing. Their object grew
dearer to them at every step. A settled resolve and a deep sense of
goodwill to mankind urged them on. They all felt that they were going in
a good cause, and would thereby bar the road to all such occurrences in
the future.

The way to Chavveh was long. She lived quite outside the Pidvorkes, and
they had to go through the whole market-place with the shops, which
stood close to one another, as though they held each other by the hand,
and then only through narrow lanes of old thatched peasant huts, with
shy little window-panes. But beside nearly every hut stood a couple of
acacia-trees, and the foam-white blossoms among the young green leaves
gave a refreshing perfume to the neighborhood. Emerging from the
streets, they proceeded towards a pretty hill planted with
pink-flowering quince-trees. A small, clear stream flowed below it to
the left, so deceptively clear that it reflected the hillside in all its
natural tints. You had to go quite close in order to make sure it was
only a delusion, when the stream met your gaze as seriously as though
there were no question of _it_ at all.

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