nt his head respectfully.

"I know it, Reb. You are fair and honest, and carry on your business
with the wise intelligence the Lord gave you, and bring honour upon
Israel. But I think if a man be honest himself, he ought not to look
indifferently upon other people's villainy; and if he do not prevent
it when he can, it is as bad as if he had done it himself. I have
heard that a great wrong is going to be done by an Israelite to an
innocent man. I can do nothing to prevent it, and I am looking for
somebody who might be able to save this innocent man from a great
calamity."

Here a loud and jovial laugh quite unexpectedly interrupted Meir's
speech, and Witebski patted him playfully on the shoulder.

"Well, well," he said, "I see what you are driving at. You are a
hot-headed youth, and want to take some trouble out of your own head
and put it into mine. Thank you for the gift, but I will have none of
it. Let things be. Why should we spoil our lives when they can be
made so pleasant? There, sit ye down, and I will go and bring your
bride. You have never heard her play on the piano. Ah, but she can
play well. It is not the Sabbath, and she will play and you can
listen a little."

He said this in his most lively manner, and moved towards the door;
but again Meir arrested his steps.

"Reb!" he said, "listen at least to what I have to say."

There was a gleam of impatience in Witebski's eyes. "Ah, Meir! what
an obstinate fellow you are, wanting to force your elders to do or
hear things they do not want to! Well, I forgive you, and now let me
go and bring the young woman."

Meir barred the way

"Reb," he said, "I will not let you go before you have heard me. I
have no one else to go to; everybody is occupied with business or
visitors. You alone, Reb, have time."

He stopped, because the merchant laid his hand upon the young man's
shoulder; he was no longer smiling, but looked grave and displeased.

"Listen, Meir," he said. "I will tell you one thing. You have taken a
wrong turning altogether. People shake their heads and speak badly of
you; but I am indulgent with you. I make allowance because you are
young, and because I am not of the same way of thinking as the people
here, and know that many things in Israel are not as they ought to
be. I think it; but do not speak about it or show it. Why should I
expose myself to their ill-feeling? What can I do? If it be the Lord
who ordered it so, why should I offend Him and