in the air, and pervading all the streets and
alleys.

"To-day, after sunset the elders of the Kahol and the judges, with
Rabbi Isaak at their head, will sit in judgment upon Meir Ezofowich."

"How will they judge him? What will they do to him?"

"No; there will be no judgment. The bold grandson of Reb Saul will
come to the Bet-ha-Midrash and confess his sins before the Rabbi and
the people, and ask forgiveness!"

"No, he will not humble himself or ask forgiveness."

"Why should he not?"

"Ah, ah, it is a great secret, but everybody knows about it, and
everybody's eyes burn with curiosity. Young Meir has found a
treasure!"

"What treasure?"

"A treasure that has been buried for five hundred years--a thousand
years--ever since the Jews came into this country, in the house of
Ezofowich. The treasure is the writing of one of their ancestors,
left as a legacy to his descendants."

"What does the writing say?"

"No one knows for certain."

All the inhabitants of the poorer streets had heard something about
it from their fathers and grandfathers; but everybody bad heard it
different. Some said it was the writing of a wise and saintly
Israelite, who lived long ago, and who wanted to make his nation
powerful and wise. Others maintained that this same ancestor of
Ezofowich was an unbeliever, bribed by the stranger to destroy the
name of Israel and the holy covenant from the face of the earth.

"The writing was to teach people how to make gold out of sand, and it
tells poor people how to get rich."

"No! it teaches how to drive away the evil spirits, so that they
cannot touch you, and how to transpose the letters of God's names
into a word with which you can work miracles."

"The writing teaches how to make friends out of your enemies, and to
enter into a covenant of peace with all nations. Somebody heard that
it showed the way how to bring Moses back to life again, and call on
him to bring his people out of bondage into the land that flows with
gold and wisdom."

"Why did they not search for the treasure sooner?"

"They were afraid. It is said that whoever touches that writing will
be scorched with fire and burned into powder. Serpents will twist
themselves around his heart! His forehead will become as black as
soot! Happiness and peace will go from him for ever! Stones will fall
upon him like hail! His forehead will be branded with a red mark!
Long, long ago, there still lived people who remembered it, the