Batya raised her hand to touch the towel, amazed at its thickness. Her family had used one piece of cotton cloth as a towel; it had none of the soft, absorbent texture of this fabric.

When she finally emerged from the bath, her skin pink, Batya stood still, shy at the ministering of the maid, who dried her as if she were a baby, then pulled a good cotton night frock over Batya’s head and placed soft wool slippers on the floor. Eager to fall into bed, Batya followed the woman to a room down the corridor. The bed by the wall was covered with what looked like a puffed-up down comforter, but Batya’s fatigue evaporated at the sight of a table set by the fireplace, laden with fine dishes and food.

Reb Moskowitz was seated on one side. “Feeling refreshed, my dear?” He had changed his wool suit into a loose burgundy jacket with rope piping along its collar and cuffs.

“Yes, thank you very much.” She blushed and glanced down to ensure that even her ankles were covered.

“I hope you don’t mind the late hour,” he said.

She lowered her eyes. At home, without a clock, they kept the time according to the sunrise and sunset.

The aroma of the food was delicious. At Reb Moskowitz’s gesture, Batya sat down and lifted the bowl of root-vegetable soup. She drank it in a few swallows.

“Slow down, my dear, or you’ll be sick,” he said.

She blushed, then dug her fingers into the plate of boiled chicken with cabbage and carrots.

“Use your utensils.”

Chastened, she picked up her fork, and was relieved that his smile had the hint of a parent indulging a child.

The honey cake at the end, served with tea sweetened by three spoonfuls of sugar, capped off the best meal she’d ever had. Reb Moskowitz lit a cigarette and sipped some red liquid out of a tiny glass cup. Batya’s eyes kept closing of their own volition.

“Go to sleep now.” He pointed to the bed, and after she crawled under the cover, which was as airy and full as a cloud, he dimmed the gas light of the bedside lamp, then stepped up to the door. “You’ve had a long day, my dear.”

She sank into the softness of the bed. One day, her entire family would be making this trip in luxury. As unexpected and painful as her departure from them had been, it was worth it: she was on her way to America to save them all. No more dread of the pogroms. No more hunger. Goodbye, poverty.

Happy, she recited the Shema prayer and fell asleep.