e what he cared about; he would have liked to say,
"Grune, I think I'm done for!" but he summoned all his courage and
refrained.

"After all, it may be only an idea," he thought.

And without saying anything further, he began to drink up the eggs as a
remedy.

When they were finished, he tried to make a few cantor-like trills. In
this he succeeded, and he grew more cheerful.

"It will be all right," he thought, "I shall not lose my voice so soon
as all that! Never mind Meyer Lieder, he drank! I don't drink, only a
little wine now and again, at a circumcision."

His appetite returned, and he swallowed mouthful after mouthful.

But his cheerfulness did not last: the erstwhile unsuccessful "death"
rang in his ears, and the worry returned and took possession of him.

The fear of losing his voice had tormented the cantor for the greater
part of his life. His one care, his one anxiety had been, what should he
do if he were to lose his voice? It had happened to him once already,
when he was fourteen years old. He had a tenor voice, which broke all of
a sudden. But that time he didn't care. On the contrary, he was
delighted, he knew that his voice was merely changing, and that in six
months he would get the baritone for which he was impatiently waiting.
But when he had got the baritone, he knew that when he lost that, it
would be lost indeed--he would get no other voice. So he took great care
of it--how much more so when he had his own household, and had taken the
office of cantor in Klemenke! Not a breath of wind was allowed to blow
upon his throat, and he wore a comforter in the hottest weather.

It was not so much on account of the Klemenke householders--he felt sure
they would not dismiss him from his office. Even if he were to lose his
voice altogether, he would still receive his salary. It was not brought
to him to his house, as it was--he had to go for it every Friday from
door to door, and the Klemenke Jews were good-hearted, and never refused
anything to the outstretched hand. He took care of his voice, and
trembled to lose it, only out of love for the singing. He thought a
great deal of the Klemenke Jews--their like was not to be found--but in
the interpretation of music they were uninitiated, they had no feeling
whatever. And when, standing before the altar, he used to make artistic
trills and variations, and take the highest notes, that was for
_himself_--he had great joy in it--and also for his eight singer