he regained his previous
composure and cheerfulness, his cheeks and lips grew ruddy, and he
looked about him gaily--nay, it seemed as if a strange, wild humor, such
as was foreign to his nature, had seized him. Beautiful Sara was
frightened as she had never been before in all her life, and a cold
shudder went through her--due less to the momentary manifestation of
dumb horror which she had seen in her husband's face, than to the
cheerfulness which followed it, and which was now gradually developing
into jubilant hilarity. The Rabbi cocked his cap comically, first on one
ear, then on the other, pulled and twisted his beard ludicrously, and
sang the _Agade_ texts as if they were tavern-songs; and in the
enumeration of the Egyptian plagues, where it is usual to dip the
forefinger in the full wine-cup and flip off the drops that adhere, he
sprinkled the young girls near him with the red wine, so that there was
great wailing over spoiled collars, combined with loud laughter. Every
moment Beautiful Sara was becoming more amazed by this convulsive
merriment of her husband, and she was oppressed with nameless fears as
she gazed on the buzzing swarm of gaily glittering guests who were
comfortably enjoying themselves here and there, nibbling the thin
Passover cakes, drinking wine, gossiping, or joyfully singing aloud.

Then came the time for supper. All rose to wash, and Beautiful Sara
brought the large silver basin, richly adorned with embossed gold
figures, which was held before all the guests in turn, while water was
poured over their hands. As she was doing this for the Rabbi, he gave
her a significant glance, and quietly slipped out of the door. When
Beautiful Sara walked out after him, he grasped her hand, and in the
greatest haste hurried her through the dark lanes of Bacharach, out of
the city gate to the highway which leads along the Rhine to Bingen.

It was one of those spring nights which, to be sure, are mild and starry
enough, yet which inspire the soul with strange, uncanny feelings. There
was something funereal in the odor of the flowers, the birds chirped
spitefully and at the same time apprehensively, the moon cast malicious
yellow stripes of light over the dark murmuring stream, the lofty banks
of the Rhine looked like vague, threatening giants' heads. The watchman
on the tower of Castle Strahleck blew a melancholy blast, and with it
rang in jarring discord the funeral bell of Saint Werner's.

Beautiful Sara