The Stranger
The Old Man (to Mordcha)
You know what? The country around here pleases me very much—plenty of villages close, and the fields, seems to me, look a little better than in my neighborhood…
Mordcha
The grain around here has a big name.
The Young Man (enthusiastically)
If only I sat in these parts! Ah! Ah!
Mordcha
I know it myself. But what can I do? I was left as on the water. My hands refuse to budge!
The Old Man
I’ll tell you what. True, the rain drove me in here. So I sit and think—maybe it’s God will, You’re a Jew I like. Well—poverty is no disgrace, and the main thing is after all—the neighborhood.
Mordcha
I say, too, that the neighborhood is a fine one.
The Old Man
What do you say, my son, ha? Maybe it is a pity to drive the poor horse another ten miles…You hear, bobbe’she, what we are talking about here? What do you say?
The Old Woman
What shall I say? Blessed be a Jewish home, ha-ha! (Whimsically.) Riches, poverty—all from God. Nu—blessed be a Jewish house!
The Old Man
Ha-ha, a clever one, as I’m a Jew. All from God! Why should we fool ourselves here?
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