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 I told you everything. So you advised me to have a Holy Scroll written. In there I placed it, — in her room. I stood before it night after night, and used to say to it, "You are really a God. You know everything I do. You will punish me. Very well. Punish me. Punish my wife. We have both sinned. But my poor, innocent daughter. Guard her. Have pity upon her!"

But no evil has befallen her. She will return. She will yet make a fine pious Jewish wife.

No use. . . The devil has won her. She'll be drawn to it. Once she has made a beginning. . . she'll not stop. . . If not today, tomorrow. The devil has won her soul. I know. Yes, I know only too well.

Don't speak folly, I tell you. Calm yourself. Pray fervently for the Lord's pardon. Give up this business of yours. With God's help your daughter will yet marry just like all Jewish women, and bring you plenty of happiness.

Too late, Rebbi. Too late. If only she had died in her childhood, I should have nothing to complain about. . . Then I 'd know she was dead, — that I had buried an innocent creature. . . I would visit her grave and say to myself, "Here