rd, work-stained hands.

Todros wiped the perspiration from his brow with his ragged sleeve,
and, leaning upon the balustrade with heaving breast and twitching
lips, looked at the singer. He did not leave the platform, for,
according to the prescribed rules, a blessing for all the people
ought to follow the curse. It was the singer's duty to intonate it.
Todros waited for it. Why did the singer delay so long? Why did he
not take up his last words, "Live in peace," and intonate the
blessing? Eliezer stood with his face turned to the altar. Whilst the
Rabbi pronounced the curse his whole frame had shook under the folds
of the tallith. By and by he grew quieter, stood motionless, and his
eyes seemed to look far, far in the distance. At last he raised his
arms. It was the sign for silence and prayer. The trumpets, which had
kept on the low, mournful wailing, grew silent, the human sobs and
cries ceased. The dim light blazed up again, and amidst the deepest
silence, interrupted by some stifled sobs, rose the pure and silvery
voice of Eliezer:

"O Lord, who blessed our fathers, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses,
Aaron, David, the prophets of Israel, and all righteous people, pour
down thy blessing upon the man who this day has been injured by an
unjust curse."

"God in thy mercy shield and guard him from all unhappiness, prolong
the years of his life, and bless all his undertakings. Release him
from distress, and darkness, and fetters, together with all his
brethren in Israel."

"Do this, O Lord. Say all unto me, Amen." He stopped, and there was a
short silence of stupefaction, and then out of several hundred
throats came the cry, "Amen!" "Amen!" called out the members of the
Ezofowich family who rose from the floor, shaking the dust from their
rent garments. "Amen!" called out the group of poor people who had
wrung their black, work-stained hands.

"Amen!" came from the voices of the weeping women in the gallery.
"Amen!" repeated at last a chorus of young voices.

The Rabbi took his hands off the balustrade, and looked around the
congregation with amazed eyes.

"What is that? What does this mean?"

Then Eliezer turned his face to him and the people. The hood of his
tallith had slipped from his head on to his shoulders. His face,
usually white, was flushed, and his blue eyes glowed with anger and
courage. He raised his band, and said, in a loud voice:

"Rabbi, it means that our ears and our hearts will not listen to an