re waking up. Feivke stood in
the middle of the room with staring eyes. The young man with the
smelling-bottle came up to him with a lively air.

"O you little object! What are you staring at me for? Do you want a
sniff? There, then, sniff!"

Feivke retreated into a corner, and continued to stare at him in
bewilderment.

No sooner was it day, than the davvening recommenced with all the fervor
of the night before, the room was as noisy, and very soon nearly as hot.
But it had not the same effect on Feivke as yesterday, and he was no
longer frightened of Anishka and the stone--the whole dream had
dissolved into thin air. When they once more brought out the scroll of
the Law in its white mantle, Feivke was standing by the table, and
looked on indifferently while they uncovered the black, shining, crowded
letters. He looked indifferently at the young man from town swaying over
the Torah, out of which he read fluently, intoning with a strangely free
and easy manner, like an adept to whom all this was nothing new.
Whenever he stopped reading, he threw back his head, and looked down at
the people with a bright, satisfied smile.

The little boys roamed up and down the room in socks, with
smelling-salts in their hands, or yawned into their little prayer-books.
The air was filled with the dust of the trampled hay. The sun looked in
at a window, and the soul-lights grew dim as in a mist. It seemed to
Feivke he had been at the Minyan a long, long time, and he felt as
though some great misfortune had befallen him. Fear and wonder continued
to oppress him, but not the fear and wonder of yesterday. He was tired,
his body burning, while his feet were contracted with cold. He got away
outside, stretched himself out on the grass behind the inn and dozed,
facing the sun. He dozed there through a good part of the day. Bright
red rivers flowed before his eyes, and they made his brains ache. Some
one, he did not know who, stood over him, and never stopped rocking to
and fro and reciting prayers. Then--it was his father bending over him
with a rather troubled look, and waking him in a strangely gentle voice:

"Well, Feivke, are you asleep? You've had nothing to eat to-day yet?"

"No...."

Feivke followed his father back into the house on his unsteady feet.
Weary Jews with pale and lengthened noses were resting on the terrace
and the benches. The sun was already low down over the village and
shining full into the inn windows. Feivke st