ad been punished; then we remained quiet, and said to each
other: He is good and charitable, never proud with poor people, and has
helped us often in our misery; but if he keeps not the covenant, his
grandfather Saul is right to punish him."

He stopped at last, out of breath with his rapid speech, and Meir
fixed his penetrating eyes upon him, and asked:

"Shmul, if the learned and wealthy people ordered me to be stoned,
would you also think they were right?"

Shmul retreated a few steps in horror.

"Ugh!" he exclaimed, "why should you think of such terrible things?"
and then added, in a thoughtful voice: "Well, Morejne, if you do not
keep the holy covenant--"

Meir interrupted, in a louder tone:

"And do you know yourself, Shmul, what is the covenant? How much of
it is God's law, and how much people's invention?"

"Hush!" hissed Shmul, in a low voice. "People can hear, and I should
not like anything unpleasant to happen to you under my roof."

Meir looked through the window, and saw several people sitting on the
bench before Shmul's house. They did not seem to listen, but talked
among themselves; at the last words of Meir and Shmul they had raised
their heads and looked through the window with a half-astonished,
half-indignant expression. Meir shrugged his shoulders impatiently,
and without saying good-bye turned towards the door. He had almost
crossed the threshold when Shmul rushed after him, stooped down, and
kissed his hand.

"Morejne," he whispered, "I am sorry for you. Think better of it;
reflect in time, and do not cause scandal in Israel. Your heart is
made of gold, but your head is full of fire. Remember what you did to
the melamed to-day! If you were not under such a terrible cloud,
Morejne," he went on, raising a nervous twitching face up to Meir, "I
should have opened my heart before you, for Shmul is in sore trouble
to-day. I do not know what to do! He may remain poor all his life, or
he may become rich; he may be happy or very wretched. A great fortune
is coming to him, and he is afraid to take it because it looks like
misfortune."

Meir looked in silent amazement at the poor man, who evidently was
trying to convey some secret to him; but at the same time from beyond
the blackened stove came Johel's deep voice:

"Shmul, will you be quiet! Come here, I want you!" The tailor, with
his face troubled, rushed towards him, and Meir, deeply musing, went
out into the street.

It was evident from t