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THE GOD OF VENGEANCE
Yekel, distributing glasses of brandy. Blurts out, before he realizes what he is saying.
Even though her father is Yekel Tchaftchovitch. . .
Sarah, giving out glasses.
Look at the people before whom he must boast!
Yekel, pouring brandy into glasses. With passionate unrestraint.
It makes no difference to me, — poor or rich. Let everybody know, — let the whole town know. What I am, I am. (Points to his wife.) What she is, she is. . . It's all true, — everything. But let them not breathe a word against my daughter. . . And if anyone dares to do so, I'll break his head with this bottle here. Even if it's the Rabbi himself, it'll make no difference to me ! . . . She's purer than his own daughter. (Pointing to his neck.) You may slash my throat if that isn't so!
Sarah, stops passing around the brandy.
We've heard all that before. . . That's enough. (Rubs her hands and goes to a corner for the broom.) We must clean the room now for our guests. (Turning to the poor folk.) You're not offended, I hope?
The Poor People
Not at all, hostess. May happiness and joy
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