is breath
came hard and fast; still he went on with his ministrations, in the
deep conviction that he was doing his duty, with a fervent faith and
belief in all that he was achieving and teaching, and the
disinterestedness of a man who wants nothing for himself, except the
little black hut, a scanty meal, and the tattered garments he had
worn for many years.

In the meanwhile a man passed rapidly through the court of the
synagogue, looking around him as if in search of something or
somebody. It was Ber, Saul's son-in-law. He looked at the people
crowding round the Rabbi's dwelling; at last his eyes lighted on
Meir, and he grasped him by the sleeve of his coat.

The young man awoke, as from a trance, and looked round absently at
his uncle.

"Come with me," whispered Ber.

"I cannot go away," said Meir, in an equally low voice. "I have
important business with the Rabbi, and shall wait till all the people
have left so that I may speak with him."

"Come away," repeated Ber, and he took the youth by the shoulder.

Meir shook him off impatiently, but Ber repeated:

"Come with me now; you can return later when the people have
gone--that is, if you wish it, but I do not think you will."

Both left the crowded hut. Ber walked swiftly and silently, leading
his companion to a quiet part of the precincts where, under the
shadow of the walls of Bet-ha-Midrash, nobody could overhear, their
conversation.

Meir leaned against the wall. Ber stood silently before him, looking
intently at his young kinsman.

Ber's outward appearance did not present any striking features; many
would pass him without taking particular notice, yet the student of
human nature would find in him a character worth knowing. He was
forty years old, always carefully dressed, yet according to old
customs. His delicately moulded features and blue eyes had a dreamy
and apathetic expression, which only lighted up under the excitement
of business speculations. A deep yearning after something, and
carefully suppressed dreams and stifled aspirations gave to his mouth
an expression of calm resignation. Sometimes, when the ghost of the
past appeared before him, two deep furrows appeared across his
forehead. It was evident that some fierce conflicts had raged under
that quiet exterior, and left wounds and scars which now and then
would remind him painfully of the past.

He now stood opposite the young man whom he had dragged away from the
crowd almost by forc