Page 66 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

The bride's wagon was turned around at last, and the
procession started up again. This time the klezmer was
behind, far back at the end of the line of villagers.
Hannah's new friends danced by the wagon's side, hands
joined, singing:
Who asked you to get married?
Who asked you to be buried alive?
You know that no one forced you,
You took this madness on yourself.
"I always hated the 'Sherele,' " Fayge said. "Such a
gloomy song for so glorious an event."
"What's the'Sherele'?" Hannah asked.
"The wedding dance your friends are doing. You do
not play such games in Lublin? Perhaps you are smarter
than we."
Hannah looked down at the girls. Some younger girls
had joined them and the line was twisting and turning
to the rhythm of the song. "New Rochelle," she mur-
mured, though this time it was more a prayer than a
statement.
Fayge didn't seem to hear. "Oh, Chaya, never mind
the 'Sherele.' We will sing and dance other things all
night long. The grandmothers will dance the 'Bobbe
Tants'—well, Shmuel's grandmother is gone, may she
rest in peace. But Gitl can dance with my grandmother.
You should see my grandmother, so light and quick.
And you, too, Chaya, you will dance. Oh, only if you
are feeling well enough. We will have great fun. You
will see." She patted Hannah's hand.

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