Justine’s Choice

Justine-Malka came back from Paris after a year looking like a whore. The family had thought that under her Uncle Yehezkel’s watchful eye she might make a successful match there, preferably with a scholarly young man whom they could lure back to Jerusalem with the promise of what was called in the jargon the “full setup,” that is, an apartment and everything that went with it, as opposed to the “partial setup,” meaning just the furnishings. They didn’t notice the mascara and rouge and lipstick and the miniskirt that showed off her bare legs until she was almost through handing out the gifts. It was her father, Reb Moise, who saw it first. They had picked her up at the airport in a cab and he had gone afterwards directly to the synagogue for evening prayers. It was when he got back that he saw her legs. “Why are you dressed like that?” he said through his teeth. His wife, Jacqueline-Rivka, gave him a warning look that said: Don’t go off half-cocked and drive her away. We’ll talk it over later and find out what’s going on. Reb Moise understood the look immediately. He was, after all, a man of the world, or at least a certain kind of world, with properties, entire buildings in fact, in Paris and a chain of stores in Jerusalem that his wife managed very efficiently while he looked after the investments. Therefore he held his peace, going into the kitchen and asking one of the...