r
where she stood; but he did not see her. His face looked troubled and
restless, and presently he disappeared within the precincts of the
synagogue. This was almost as crowded as the market square, but not
so noisy.

Meir went towards the dwelling of the Rabbi Todros; all the people
were moving in the same direction. Close to the Rabbi's little hut
the crowd was still denser; but there was no noise, no pushing, or
eyes shining with the greediness of gain; a grave silence prevailed
everywhere, interrupted only by timid whispers. Meir knew what
brought the people here and where they came from. There were scarcely
any inhabitants of Szybow amongst them, as these could always see the
Rabbi and come to him for advice. They came mostly from the country
around; some from far distant places. There was a slight sprinkling
of merchants and well-to-do people, but the great bulk bore the stamp
of poverty and hard work in their lean, patient faces, and upon their
garments.

"Why should I go there?" said Meir to himself; "he will not listen to
me now; but where else can I go?" he added after a while, and he
again mixed with the crowd, which bore him onwards until he found
himself before the wide-open door of the Rabbi's dwelling.

Beyond the door, in the entrance hall, people stood closely pressed
together like a living and breathing wall; no other sound than their
long-drawn breaths were audible. Meir tried to push his way through,
which did not present much difficulty, for many of the poor people
had been humble guests at Ezofowich's, and recognised Saul's grandson
and made way for him. They did this in a quick, absent-minded way,
their eyes being riveted on the room beyond; they stood on tip-toe,
and whenever they caught a broken sentence, their faces glowed with
happiness as if the honoured sage's words were balm for all the
sorrows of their lives.

The interior of the room, which Meir beheld from the open door,
presented a singular appearance. In the depth of it, between the wall
and a table, sat Rabbi Todros in his usual worn-out garments with his
cap pushed to the back of his head. The upper part of his body bent
forward; he sat perfectly motionless except for his eyes, which
roamed along the people, who looked at him humbly and beseechingly.
There was a small space between the sage and those who stood before
him, which none dared to cross without his permission. The whole
scene was lighted up by the rays of the sun str