Mother and Son
He tore me from their hearts—root and all—and left me alone and friendless. (She sits down beside him and endeavors to soothe him. Her eyes fill with tears.) All marvel at my songs—wonder at the deep melancholy which I have poured into them! I have become famed for my melancholy, but no one suspects that the pains are my own pains—my own suffering—my friendlessness…
Gitele
Moshele, do not think about it any more. You’ll see, you will make up with the bobbe’she and you will be with us once more.
Moshele
She will not forgive me! She will send me away again. Here, father will always be master! In every corner you can feel his spirit. I am a
stranger here, disowned forever.
Gitele
No. She will take you back. You will once more be her beloved, her beautiful boy, as she always called you. We will all be very tender with you. You will see—as it was before with your sorrow, so you will now become renowned for your joyous singing. From now on the world will rejoice in the irresistible joy which will pour forth from your every verse. We will…
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