Mother and Son
(Gitele walks slowly to the door, left, biting her lips to restrain her tears. Malkele appears to waver and struggles with herself to maintain her resolution.)
Malkele
Or—wait… (Strong again.) Yes, go, go, telegraph! (Gitele goes out. Malkele walks about greatly excited.) I am so weak!… (She stops before the portrait.) Where shall I get the strength, Shimele? My sinful body draws to my sinful son…
(She stands awed before the portrait of her dead husband. The door of Gitele’s room opens quietly. Gitele pushes Moshele into the room, gently but firmly, closing the door after him, but leaving it sufficiently ajar so that she may listen and yet not be seen. Moshele is nervous and agitated. He notices that his mother’s gaze is riveted to the portrait, and his face hardens into a stubborn defiance. He takes a few steps nearer. At the sound of footsteps, his mother turns and sees him. She is rooted to the spot. They look at each other speechless. Moshele is the first to break the silence.)
Moshele
Good morning, mother!
Malkele (casting a frightened glance back at the portrait—then to Moshele)
You dared—
Moshele
You are shocked that the disowned, the outcast
35
