her frightened nor surprised at this sudden
pronunciation of her name by a strange voice. It might almost be said
that at any moment she expected to hear that voice, so gravely, and
with so little emotion did she rise and go to the window. Only her
eyes shone warmly under: the dark lashes, and her voice was
inexpressibly sweet when, standing at the lattice, she said softly:

"Meir! I knew that you would keep your promise and come."

"Golda," said the muffled voice from behind the window, "I came to
see you because to-day there is a great darkness before my eyes, and
I wished to look at you, that the world might become brighter to me."

"And why is it so dark to-day before your eyes?" asked the girl.

"A great sorrow has befallen me. Rabbi Todros has accused me of
wrongdoing before my zeide, and my zeide wishes to marry me."

He became silent and dropped his eyes. The girl did not move. Not the
slightest movement of her face or figure betrayed emotion--only her
swarthy and sun-burned face grew white.

"To whom does your zeide wish to marry you?" she asked, and her voice
had a gloomy sound.

"To Mera, the daughter of the merchant Witebski."

She shook her head.

"I don't know her."

Then she asked suddenly:

"Meir, are you going to marry her?"

The young man did not answer. Golda, however, did not ask him again.
Her swarthy forehead was bathed in a blush and an expression of great
bliss filled her eyes, for Meir's sweet, deep and at the same time
fiery look, rested on her face.

Both were silent, and amidst the tranquillity, interrupted only by
the rustling of the branches overhanging the roof, there was heard
again the hoarse and trembling voice of the old man sitting by the
wall.

"When Moses descended Mount Sinai, the thunders were silenced, the
lightning was quenched, the wind lay down, and all Israel rose as one
man and exclaimed with a great voice: 'Moses, repeat to us the words
of the Eternal!'"

Meir listened attentively to the old voice relating the history of
Israel. Golda looked at her grandfather.

"He always tells the different stories," she said. "I spin or lie at
his feet and listen."

"Meir," she added, with gravity in her look and her voice, "enter our
house and greet my grandfather."

In a few moments the door of the small hall creaked. Old Abel raised
his head from the willow branches, which his trembling but active
hand continually plaited, and seeing in the dark, the handsome f