a woman of valour who can find? For her price is far above rubies.’ (Proverbs 31: 10)
Raizel Feige was a sweet little girl, with beautiful green eyes, soft pink cheeks and glorious dark copper hair. Her mother died the day she was born, but her grandmother looked after her with such tender care that Raizel Feige regarded her as her mother. She was very happy. All day long she sang, whether in the house or the forest that surrounded it. Her voice was so sweet that the birds gathered on the trees to listen to her and to encourage her to continue, by daintily chirruping whenever she stopped singing.
Cheerfully Raizel Feige performed all the little duties her grandmother called upon her to do, and on Shabbos and holidays she was allowed to wear a beautiful pair of red leather slippers, her father’s gift to her on her first birthday. Neither she nor her father knew it, but the slippers were truly blessed and grew to fit her feet as she grew.
Raizel Feige was only a child and so did not know that slippers don’t usually grow. Her grandmother knew the secret of the slippers, but she did not tell, and her father had become too moody and too deeply absorbed in his own thoughts and affairs to notice anything.
One day, Raizel Feige returned from the woods to find her grandmother gone and three strange women in the house. She stopped suddenly in the midst of her singing and her cheeks turned pale, for she did not like the appearance of the strangers.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I am your new mother,” answered the eldest of the three, “and these are my daughters, your two new sisters.”
Raizel Feige trembled with fear. They were all three so unpleasant, she missed her grandmother and so she began to cry.
Her new sisters laughed and made fun of her and would have beaten her had not her father appeared. He spoke kindly, telling her he had married again, because he was lonely and that her step-mother and step-sisters would be good to her. Sadly, Raizel Feige knew different. She quickly went to her own little room and hid her slippers that were very special to her..
“They forced my grandmother go away and they will take from me my beautiful slippers,” she cried.
After that, Raizel Feige stopped singing. She became very quiet and no longer smiled. The birds could not understand. They followed her through the woods, but she was silent, as if she had been stricken dumb, and she always looked like she was about to cry.
She was forced to collect firewood, to draw water from the well. Everyday she struggled with the heavy bucket whose weight made her arms and her back hurt. Her arms were covered with bruises because her cruel and selfish step-sisters did not hesitate to beat her. Often they went out to parties, or to dances, and on these occasions she had to act as their maid and help them to dress. Raizel Feige did not mind; she was only happy when they were out of the house. Then only did she sing softly to herself, and the birds came to listen.
In this way many unhappy years passed.
Once, when her father was away from home, her step-sisters went off to a wedding. They told her not to forget to draw water from the well, and warned her that if she forgot, as she did the last time, they would beat her without mercy when they returned.
Even though she was tired, Raizel Feige went out in the darkness to the well to draw water. She lowered the bucket, but the cord broke and the pail fell to the bottom of the well. She ran back home for a long stick with a hook at the end of it to recover the bucket, and as she put it into the water she sang:
Swing and sweep till all does cling
And to the surface safely bring.
Now it so happened that a sleeping spirit was at the bottom of the well. He could only be awakened by an invitation, and although Raizel Feige did not know it, the words she uttered, which she had once heard her grandmother use, were the right words.
The spirit awoke, and he was so delighted with the sweet voice that he promptly decided to help the girl whom he saw peering down into the water. He fastened the bucket to the stick and, taking some jewels from a treasure that he was the guarding, he put them inside.
“Oh, how beautiful,” cried Raizel Feige when she saw the glittering gems. “They are ever so much nicer than those my sisters put on to go to the ball.”
Then she sat thinking for a while and a bright idea came into her head.
“I will give these jewels to my sisters,” she said. “Perhaps they will be kinder to me.”
She waited impatiently until the sisters returned from the wedding and immediately told them. For a moment they were too dazed to speak when they saw the sparkling precious stones. Then they looked at one another and asked how she came by them. Raizel Feige told them of the words she had sung.
“Ah, we thought so,” said the sisters, to her horror. “The jewels are ours. We hid them in the well for safety. You have stolen them.”
In vain Raizel Feige protested. Her sisters would not listen. They beat her severely, told her to hurry off to bed, and then, snatching the bucket, they hurried off to the well. They lowered the bucket and sang the words that Raizel Feige had sung. At least they thought they sang; but their voices were harsh. The sleeping spirit awoke again, but he did not like the croaking sound the sisters made.
“Ha, ha!” he laughed. “I will teach you to disturb my sleep with hideous noises and shall punish such pranks played on me. Here are some more croakers,” and he filled the bucket with slimy toads and frogs.
The sisters were so enraged that they ran back home and dragged poor Raizel Feige from her bed.
“You brat, you thief,” screamed one.
“You cheat,” exclaimed the other. “Off you go. Get out, you don’t deserve to stay in this house.”
Raizel Feige was too much taken by surprise to say anything. It was an outrage to turn her out of her father’s house while he was away on a journey, but the thought came to her that she could hardly be less happy living alone in the woods.
She had only time to snatch her pretty red slippers, and as soon as she was out of sight of the house she put them on. It made her feel less miserable. The sun was now rising and when its rays shone on her she began to sing. With her old friends, the birds, twittering all about her, she felt quite happy.
She walked much farther into the forest than ever before. When she grew tired there was always a pleasant shady nook where she could rest; when she became hungry, there were fruit trees in abundance; and when she was thirsty she always came to a spring of clear, fresh water. The blessed slippers guided her. All day long she wandered, and when toward evening she noticed her slippers were muddy she took them off to clean. And then darkness fell. It began to rain and she grew frightened. She crouched under a tree until she noticed a light some short distance away. She got up and walked toward it.
When quite close, she saw that the light came from a cave dwelling. An old woman came out to meet her. It was her grandmother, but so many years had passed that Raizel Feige did not recognize her. Her grandmother, however, at once knew her. “Come in, my child, and take shelter from the rain,” she said kindly, and Raizel Feige was only too glad to accept the invitation.
The inside of the cave was quite cozy, and Raizel Feige, who was almost completely exhausted, quickly fell fast asleep. She awoke with a start.
“My pretty red slippers,” she cried. “Where are they?”
She put her hand in the pocket of her tattered dress, but could only find one.
“I must have lost the other,” she sobbed. “I must go out and look for it.”
“No, no,” said her grandmother. “You cannot do that. A storm is raging.”
Raizel Feige peered out through the door of the cave and drew back in fear as she saw the lightning flash and heard the thunder roar. She cried herself to sleep again, and this time was awakened by voices. She feared it might be her sisters who had discovered her hiding place and had come to drag her forcibly back home again. So she crept into a corner of the cave and listened intently.
A man was speaking.
“Do you know to whom this red slipper belongs?” he asked. “I found it in the forest.”
Raizel Feige was on the point of rushing out to regain her lost slipper when her grandmother’s loud voice restrained her.
“No, no, I know not,” she repeated again and again, and at length the man left.
Her grandmother came back into the cave and said, “I am sorry, Raizel Feige, but for all I knew, he might be a messenger from your cruel sisters; and, of course, I cannot let anyone take you back to them.”
Next day, the man called again, this time with several attendants. Again, Raizel Feige concealed herself.
“I am a holy man’s son, and wealthy,” said the man. “I must find the wearer of this shoe. Only a graceful and beautiful girl can wear such a wonderful slipper.”
Raizel Feige did not know whether to be more frightened or pleased, when her grandmother told her the man was very handsome and of noble bearing.
He came every day, each time with more retainers, and, finally, he arrived mounted on a horse with a hundred and one followers, all mounted as he was.
“The girl I seek is here,” he said. “Deny it no longer. My servants have searched the forest and the whole region. One is prepared to swear he heard a young girl singing yesterday.”
Raizel Feige saw that concealment was no longer possible. She liked the man’s voice, and she stepped out bravely, wearing her one slipper.
The stranger, bowing low before her, held out the other, and Raizel Feige took it and put it on. It fitted perfectly.
“Many girls have tried to put on that shoe,” said the young man. “but all have failed. ‘Grace is false, Beauty is vain; but a G-d fearing woman should be praised’ (Proverbs 31:30) I have searched long and hard for a woman of strng faith and beauty. And I have sworn to make the wearer of this wonderous shoe my bride. I am a holy man’s son, and you shall be a princess in my home.”
So Raizel Feige left the cave with her grandmother, and mounting a horse was led through the forest to her new home where she knew nothing but happiness and the days of her sufferings were quite forgotten. And always she wore her blessed red slippers.
May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)
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Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)