Two women stood in the large and spacious kitchen, busy
preparing for the day's meal. They kept talking while their
hands mechanically prepared the trays. Noise from the street
filtered through the open windows into the kitchen, and Lea,
the older of the two, sighed, "It seems that another group of
unfortunate people has arrived in town," she commented.
Shayne nodded sympathetically.
Soon Shayne picked up a loaded tray and walked out of the
kitchen. When she came back, she exclaimed, "Do you know who
came here today to the house?! None other than the very
important Tzdokoh Gabbete!
"Really?!" Lea cried in surprise, "When a new group of poor
wanderers arrives in town, she is very busy helping them.
There must be a very special reason why she came here today.
I wouldn't be surprised to hear about a very important guest
among those poor refugees who had to flee from that
outrageous Chmelnitzky and his fierce, brutal soldiers. Many
of them have to escape with nothing more than the clothes on
their backs."
Just as Shayne finished talking, the door to the kitchen
opened and there at the entrance stood Mrs. Tober, the
mistress of the house, "I want you to train a new maid. The
Tzedokoh Gabbete told me that a young girl in the
group is a very fine girl. Her father was a prominent rabbi,
but unfortunately he was killed . . . It is a miracle that
she remained alive . . . She wants the girl placed in a good
home and not to continue wandering with the group . . . Do
you need a helping hand in the kitchen? I do wish you will
make her feel at home and help her get settled here!"
"A daughter of a prominent rabbi . . . I am not sure she will
be of much help here," Shayne was skeptical. Lea, the other
maid, was willing to coach the young rabbi's daughter in
homemakers' duties.
"I think we can let her serve your son-in-law, R' Shabsay
Cohen. The work isn't hard; it's just tedious . . . All she
has to do is stay outside his study room door, and wait till
he comes out, and then serve him a nice, warm meal. I am sure
she will do it efficiently, and by serving a talmid
chochom, she will gain much satisfaction."
The mistress of the house sighed. It was obvious that she
felt pity for the unfortunate girl. She stood in the kitchen
and pondered what she should do. At the end she said, "We
have to give her some work, and I hope she performs it with
dignity and modesty, the way you do, Lea . . . In addition, I
will employ her as our representative, and she will help
those poor wanderers coming to the door."
Both Shayne and Lea were satisfied with the new arrangements.
The young son-in-law, Reb Shabsay Cohen, studied long and
late hours, and the two maids felt it was too exerting to
stay up waiting for him, while keeping his meal warmed on the
stove. Now that the rabbi's daughter would take over this
task, they would have it easier. As the young girl walked
into the kitchen, both women started questioning her about
her family, but the poor girl just wiped her tearful eyes and
sighed, and at the end they left her alone . . .
Late that night, the new girl sat behind the door of Reb
Shabsay, and listened to his learning. As she sat there, she
recalled her father's voice, his sweet learning, and she
could not help herself. She burst out crying, shedding tears
profusely. Suddenly, the door to the room opened and the
young man stood glaring at her, "Why are you crying by my
door?" he asked quietly, in subdued anger, "I want complete
quiet here; I must concentrate." He walked back to his room
and was soon absorbed in his studies.
The poor girl sat by the door, and forced herself to keep
quiet. After many hours, she was able to retire to her small
room, and there she shed tears into the soft pillow. The
following morning, she was kept busy attending the poor
wanderers who constantly knocked on the door. She dispensed
money and food to them, and received many blessings in
return. She felt that this job had dignity and blessed her
good luck . . .
The following night, she again kept vigil by the door of the
learned scholar, and again she was reminded of her deceased
father. She sobbed into her handkerchief, and murmured,
"Father dear! See me now, I am a maid . . . Look down at me,
Mother, and have pity on me!"
No sooner had she whispered those words than the door opened.
Reb Shabsay Cohen stood by the door, "Who are you? I heard
you cry last night, and I hear you crying again tonight. You
are the new orphan maid, aren't you? Tell me, who were your
parents?"
With downcast eyes, she murmured, "My father and mother were
killed by Chmelnitzky and his cruel soldiers. My father was
rabbi of Amstibov. As I heard you learning, I was reminded of
him, and couldn't help crying . . . "
She looked down at the floor. The young man stood mesmerized
and leaned against the wall. At last he said in a choked
voice, "The rabbi of the town Amstibov was killed?! And his
wife, too?! You must be their youngest daughter!"
The girl nodded her head, "Did you know my parents?" she
whispered.
"Yes, I knew them quite well." He whispered, too. After a
short pause, he said, "Go to bed, I am not hungry tonight . .
. "
The girl went to bed, but was restless and worried, "They
will surely send me away for having disturbed the scholar,"
she thought.
It was a long, sleepless night, but at last the sun rose, and
the new maid, the rabbi's daughter, headed for the kitchen.
The mistress of the house stopped her, "Go to Yente and be
with her. She needs help and a companion." And thus did the
rabbi's daughter become a friend and companion to the wife of
Reb Shabsay.
*
Soon a catastrophe struck the home of the rich Tober family.
The mistress of the house became ill and shortly after, she
died . . . Everyone in the town of Vilna cried and mourned
her. Matchmakers from all over town came to the house of the
widower, Reb Binyomin Wolf Tober, the grandson of the Rema,
but they were turned away. The son-in-law, the great scholar,
Reb Shabsay, whispered into the ears of his wealthy
mechutan, "Why don't you marry this orphan girl, the
daughter of the prominent rabbi of the town of Amstibov? I
know all about her yichus and I promise to tell more
about her on the night of the wedding . . . "
The preparations for the wedding were brief, and, as
promised, on the wedding night, right after the
chuppah, Reb Shabsay divulged his secret.
"You, the kallah, are my sister! I left home when you
were a young child. I therefore didn't recognize you
directly. I feel honored that my father-in-law is now also my
brother-in-law . . . " Reb Shabsay shed tears. And so did the
bride . . .
After a while, Reb Shabsay, who was later to become famous as
the 'Shach,' said in a happy voice, "I bless you both; may
you have children and grandchildren, talmiday
chochomim who will enlighten the Jewish world in learning
and Torah knowledge."
*
Shortly after the wedding, war broke out again, and
Chmelnitzky and his barbaric soldiers came to Vilna. All
Jewish inhabitants fled from Vilna, escaping in all
directions. The newlywed couple ran off to Ashkenaz (Germany)
and settled down. They kept thinking about the blessing the
Shach given them.
After a while, a son was born, and eventually he grew, and
married. He, too, eventually had a son, who was known as
Rabbi Meyer Eisenstadt, the author of the noted work,
Ponim Meiros.
As the Shach had promised, the couple derived much
nachas from their offspring and Am Yisroel
gained a scholar of world renown . . .
