Champagne
Dvorah
Good evening.
Gruna (disappointed)
Oh, it’s you! A welcome guest!
Dvorah (sets her basket down on the floor close to the door, and says ironically)
A fine welcome I get! Well, let others bring you better tidings than I do,Gruna!! (She approaches closer and stands still, looking at Gruna with reproach but compassionately. Pause.)
Gruna (subduing her anxiety with an effort)
You come from the village? (Glancing at Dvorah’s basket.)
Dvorah
Shopping.
Gruna
Just stopped in to rest? Well, sit down meanwhile.
Dvorah
I can stand just as well. (She approaches the table, rests her hands on it and does not remove her eyes from Gruna’s face. She speaks with lashing severity.) You forget who your husband, may his soul rest in peace, was, Gruna? (Gruna seems stunned. She tries to open her mouth to speak, but cannot find what to say. Her hand, with the knitting in it, droops heavily to the table; one of the knitting needles falls to the floor. Dvorah, not waiting for a reply, speaks on.) A Jew! A scholar, Gruna! A rare honest man—a Scribe of the Holy Law. Before making a single letter of the Holy Torah he would purify himself—such was his piety!
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