at! That man is your wise and celebrated Rabbi?"

The faces framed in the open window radiated with a peculiar
blissfulness, and nodded.

The young man made an heroic effort to control his risible muscles,
and with twinkling eyes he pointed at the melamed.

"And who is this?"

"He is the melamed," said several voices; "a very wise and pious
man."

The nobleman turned again to Todros.

"Reverend sir," he said, "could I speak alone with you for a few
minutes?"

Todros remained silent as the grave, but his breath went faster and
his eyes grew fiercer.

"Mr. Melamed," said the nobleman to the barefooted man in the long
coarse shirt, "perhaps this is a day when your Rabbi is not allowed
to speak?"

"Hah?" asked Reb Moshe drawlingly. The nobleman, half-amused,
half-angry, turned towards the people.

"Why do they not answer?"

There was a momentary silence. The faces looked perplexedly at each
other. One of them at last said:

"They only understand the Jewish language." The owner of Kamionka
looked at them in open-eyed amazement; he could scarcely believe that
he heard aright.

"What! You don't mean to say they do not understand the language of
the country they live in?"

"Well, they do not understand it."

There was some indefined resentment in the voice that said that.

At this moment Isaak Todros drew himself up, and raising both arms
above his head, began to speak quickly:

"And a day will arrive when the Messiah, who sleeps in Paradise, will
wake up and descend to the earth. Then a great war will spread over
the world. Israel will stand up against Edom and Ishmael, until Edom
and Ishmael will fall at his feet like shattered cedars."

His gestures were at once solemn and threatening, his eyes blazing,
and catching his breath, he repeated again:

"Edom and Ishmael will lie at the feet of Israel like broken cedars,
and the thunderbolt of the Lord will fall upon them and crush them to
powder."

It was now the Edomite's turn to look astonished, for he did not
understand a word. He looked not unlike a tall, stately cedar as he
stood there, but not like one that could be easily crushed to powder.
His face was rippling over with laughter, which he carefully tried to
suppress.

"What does he say?" he asked the people at the window.

There was no answer. All eyes were riveted upon the sage, and on the
melamed's face there was an expression of ecstatic rapture.

"My good people, tell me what he said,