Then he went to bed.

After that, Esther put her grandmother to bed and curled herself up at her side.

She lay awake a long time, listening to the quaint sounds emitted by her father in his study of Rashi's commentary on the Book of Job, the measured drone blending not disagreeably with the far-away sounds of Pesach Weingott's fiddle.
Pesach's fiddle played the accompaniment to many other people's thoughts.

The respectable master-tailor sat behind his glazed shirt-front beating time with his foot.

His little sickly-looking wife stood by his side, nodding her bewigged head joyously.