comfort? Where shall we find another teacher?
The flames have consumed the soul of our souls, and the ashes have
been thrown to the winds. If the spirit of the Master sees it he will
say, 'My people have cursed me again,'" and tears dropped through his
fingers upon the rough deal table.

Suddenly he stopped his laments, and, changing his position, fell
into a deep reverie.

Eliezer opened the window.

The sandy ground of the market-square seemed divided in long slanting
paths of red and gold by the rays of the rising sun. Along one of
these shining paths, towards Kamionker's house, came a powerful
bare-footed man. His heavy step sounded near the window where the two
young men were sitting. Meir raised his head; the man had already
passed, but a short glimpse of the matted red hair and swollen face
was enough for Meir to identify him as the carrier, Johel.

A few minutes later two men dressed in black passed near the window.
One of them was tall, stately, and smiling; the other, slightly
stooping, had iron-gray hair and a wrinkled brow. They were Morejne
Calman and Abraham Ezofowich. Evidently they had not crossed the
square, but passed along the back streets almost stealthily, as if to
avoid being seen. Both disappeared in the entrance of Kamionker's
house, where Johel had preceded them.

Eliezer looked up from the book which he had been reading.

"Meir," he said, "why do you look so stern? I have never seen you
look so stern before."

Meir did not seem to have heard his friend's remark. His eyes were
fixed upon the floor, and he murmured:

"My uncle Abraham! My uncle Abraham! Woe to our house. Shame to the
house of Ezofowich!"

In the next room, divided from Eliezer's by a thin wall, loud voices
and bustle were audible. Jankiel shouted at his wife to go away and
take the children with her. Jenta's low shoes clattered upon the
floor, and the suddenly-roused children began to squall. By degrees
the noise sounded fainter and farther off. Then the floor resounded
with the steps of men, chairs were drawn together, and a lively
discussion in low but audible voices began.

Meir suddenly rose.

"Eliezer," he whispered, "let us go away."

"Why should we go away?" said the young man, raising his head from
the book.

"Because the walls are thin," began Meir.

He did not finish, for from the other side of the wall came the
violent exclamation from his uncle Abraham:

"I do not know anything about that; you di