wer.

The man sitting near the wall craned his long yellow neck, and opened
his eyes and mouth wider.

The sudden amazement, or perhaps other feelings, gave him the
appearance of stupidity, almost idiotism.

No wonder that Isaak Todros looked like one turned to stone at the
sight of the nobleman standing before him. He was the first Edomite
who had ever crossed his threshold--the first he had ever seen
closely, and the first time he had heard the sonorous language, which
sounded strange and unintelligible to his ears. If the angel
Matatron, the heavenly patron and defender of Israel, or even the
foremost of the evil spirits had stood before him, he would have been
less appalled: with supernatural beings he was in constant though not
direct communication. He studied them--their nature and their
functions. But this tall, stately man, in his abominable garment
which reached barely to his knees, with the white, effeminate
forehead and unintelligible language, who was he? Was he a
Philistine? a cruel Roman, or perhaps a Spaniard--one of those that
murdered the famous Abrabanel family, and drove his ancestor Todros
out of Spain?

The lord waited a few minutes, and not getting an answer, repeated
the question:

"Could I speak with the Rabbi of Szybow?"

At the sound of the somewhat raised voice the squatting figure in the
corner moved and rose slowly. Reb Moshe, with open mouth and stupid,
glaring eyes, came into the light, and in his hoarse voice uttered
the monosyllable "Hah!"

At the sight of the man dressed in such primitive and now-a-days
unseen simplicity, the lord's face twitched all over with suppressed
merriment.

"My good sir," he said, turning to the melamed, "is that man deaf and
dumb? I asked him twice whether I could see the Rabbi of Szybow, and
got no answer."

Saying this, he pointed at Todros, who, craning his neck in the
melamed's direction, asked:

"Was sagd er? Was will er?" (What does he say? What does he want?)

Reb Moshe, instead of answering, opened his mouth still wider. At the
same time murmurs and whispers became audible from the open window,
and the young gentleman, looking in that direction, saw a cluster of
faces peeping into the room: the faces looked inquisitive, and a
little frightened. He turned towards them and asked:

"Does the Rabbi of Szybow live here?"

"He does," said some voices.

"Where is he, then?"

A great many fingers pointed at the bench near the wall.

"Wh