ow candle, for
a pious man reading Holy Books during holy nights was not permitted
to snuff the candle, and he must have beside him some attentive
person to perform this office.

During the holy nights the Rabbi read Schiur-Koma and Zohar, and the
little man, sitting beside him, raised himself from time to time in
his low chair, reviving the flame of the dying candle, and with his
round eyes looking into the face of his master, waiting for the
moment when his hand would arrange a word from the names of God,
Notarikon and Gomatria, which would perform great miracles, and
disclose to the people all the secrets of the heavens and of the
earth.

Returning home after sunset one day with a big bunch of herbs, Isaak
Todros found his faithful worshipper seated in a corner of the dark
hall, plunged in deep thought.

"Moshe," said the Rabbi, passing swiftly and quietly through the
hall.

"What is your order, Nassi?" humbly asked Moshe.

"Go at once to old Saul, and tell him that Rabbi Isaak Todros will
visit his house to-morrow."

The cramped, gray figure in the dark corner jumped as though moved by
a spring, and rushed across the square to the house of Saul. Passing
quickly the piazza and long hall, the melamed opened the door, and,
thrusting his head into the room, he exclaimed triumphantly:

"Reb Saul, a great honour and happiness is coming to you! Rabbi Isaak
Todros, the perfect pious, and the first scholar in the world, will
visit your house to-morrow!"

From the depths of the large parlour the voice of the old merchant,
dried by age, but still strong, answered:

"I, Saul Ezofowich, my children, grandchildren and
great-grandchildren will await Rabbi Isaak's visit with great joy and
great desire in our hearts. May he live a hundred years!"

"May he live a hundred years!" repeated the dark figure, and
disappeared.

The door was closed. Old Saul was sitting on the sofa, reading from
Zohar, but he could not understand its deep explanations in spite of
the utmost mental strain, for his mind was accustomed to secular
business affairs. Suddenly his wrinkled forehead became gloomy and
uneasiness shone in his eyes. He turned to his elder son, Raphael,
who sat at a table near by, balancing his books, and asked:

"Why is he coming here?"

Raphael shrugged his shoulders, as a sign that he did not know.

"Has he any reason for picking a quarrel?" asked the old man again.

Raphael, raising his face from his books, sai