minkhe service and we were his congregation.
“The Sages tell us that our fathers were freed from slavery because they kept themselves apart and did not try to adopt Egyptian customs,” he said. “But the danger is even greater these days, when the fashion is to act like the goyim.”
Rabbi Isaac Ha-Kohen and Avrom Khayim nodded in agreement.
Rabbi Loew went on: “Although we are dispersed throughout the world, we must remain a people dwelling alone, and limit our contact with the nations of the world, and not try to imitate their ways, or we will lose our identity as a people.”
Anya was leaning against the doorframe with one foot in the kitchen and the other in the dining room, and I could only wonder if the rabbi knew something about his young pupil’s budding relationship with the Shabbes goye.
Then Rabbi Loew looked around the table and warned us that such dalliances would delay the coming of the Messiah.
“But Rabbi, the Seyfer Hasidim—” I started over, repeating the title for Anya’s benefit: “The Book of the Pious says that any Jew who marries a non-Jewish woman who is kind-hearted and charitable will find her to be a better wife than a woman who is Jewish by birth but who lacks these virtues.”
My eyes met Anya’s.
“But you are talking about when a member of a foreign tribe becomes a Jew,” said Rabbi Loew. “That is a completely different matter. See what happens when you don’t take the time to stop and replenish yourself? Your mind is losing its sharpness, Ben-Akiva.”
“Have some more gefilte fish,” said Perl, serving out another portion, as if more food were the solution to my problem.
I obliged the rabbi’s wife and accepted the second helping of fish. But soon it was time to end the Seder.
“Next year in Jerusalem,” said Rabbi Loew. “Borukh atoh Adinoy, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, Who creates the fruit of the vine. Amen.”
Then we switched to Yiddish and everyone took a turn with a verse, beginning with Young Lippman:
“Mighty is He. He will build His temple soon—”
“Speedily in our days,” said Eva, finishing the phrase.
“Soon, soon,” said Peshke the street cleaner.
“Soon, soon,” said Samec the mikveh attendant.
“God build His temple,” said Avrom Khayim.
“Speedily in our days,” said Freyde and Julie, with surprising strength. Some of the color had come back to their faces, and I wondered what miracle had brought about this swift recovery. “Soon, soon.”
“Omeyn!”
The tea that Anya brought them appeared to do a world of good.
The clattering of dishes aroused me from my ruminations, and my glance fell on the mugs of tea that Anya was removing from the dining table. She caught my eye and signaled to me, so I got up and followed her into the kitchen and over to the washbasin, where she handed me one of the mugs. When I didn’t do anything with it, she held it right under my nose. The dregs of the tea smelled bitter, and the pale green leaves stuck to the sides of the mug. I pulled one away and examined it. It seemed to be a wet leaf like any other.
Anya told me in a low voice that she had learned that Jacob Federn had been secretly supplying these herbs to a number of women in the ghetto who were using them to treat the symptoms of melancholia.
“I didn’t realize there was an epidemic of melancholia in the ghetto,” I said.
“Ghetto life can be very frustrating for a lot of women.”
“But why all the secrecy? What’s so special about these herbs?”
“Janek was sneaking them into the country so he wouldn’t have to pay any taxes on them.”
So these were the famous goods that Janek and Federn were distributing in their illicit partnership.
“So what do we do now, Mr. Investigator?”
“That depends. What news did you bring me about the locks on Janek’s doors?”
“I did better than that. I brought you one of his keys.”
WE STARTED WITH THE HOUSE at the sign of the Fat Milk Cow at the lower end of Embankment Street. Poor drainage had turned the alley into a marshland, and we had to slog through several inches of brackish water to reach the doorstep. I knocked on the soggy wooden planks, and my knuckles came away covered with greenish flecks of mold. I was brushing the mold off my fingers when the door opened, and I found myself staring into the fearful, pleading eyes of the woman who had come to Rabbi Epstein on Friday morning seeking