t the intention of entering it again. He
knew that he would have to go away, to pursue in loneliness and
misery the great aim he saw in the far, far distance, and which was
so difficult to reach. He wanted to see the house once more, but did
not intend to cross its threshold. Among the many darkened windows,
he saw one where a light glimmered. He stood still and looked at it.
Through the window he saw the motionless figure of his great-grandmother
in her easy chair. A wave of moonlight made the diamonds sparkle.

Meir slowly ascended the steps of the porch and touched the door
latch. It yielded to the pressure; contrary to the usual custom the
door was unlocked. He entered the narrow passage and stood at the
door of the sitting-room, which was wide open. The whole house was
wrapped in darkness and silence.

Was everybody asleep? Not likely; but not the slightest noise was to
disturb the last farewell between the great-grandmother and her
great-grandson and drive him from her knees. It was the last time he
rested under the roof of his fathers.

"Bobe," he said softly, "Elte Bobe!"

Freida slept peacefully as a child: the rays of the moonlight played
on the wrinkled face like childish dreams.

"I shall never see you again, never any more."

He pressed his lips to the dear old hand that had given him the
treasure which was his salvation and ruin, life and death.

Freida's head moved gently.

"Kleineskind!" she whispered, without opening her eyes.

Meir lost himself in thought. His forehead resting on his
great-grandmother's knees, he said farewell to everything and
everybody around.

At last he rose and slowly left the room.

In the dark passage he suddenly felt two strong arms closing around
him, and a heavy object was put in his pocket.

"It is I, Ber. Your grandfather looked around the family for a
courageous man who would give you a handful of money on the way; and
found me. Everybody in the house mourns for you; the women have taken
to their beds, crying; your uncles are angry with the Rabbi and the
elders; the grandfather is almost beside himself with grief--but
nobody will see you any more. It is thus with us; reason drags one
way; the old faith the other. They are afraid. But Meir, do not
grieve! You are happy. I envy you! You have not been afraid to do
what I did not dare to do, and you will win. To-day your friends
stood up for you, and the people were silent and did not defend the
Rabbi. It is th