d:

"He has."

Saul shivered.

"Nu!" he exclaimed, "And what reason can he have? Has someone of the
family sinned?"

Raphael answered shortly:

"Meir."

The faces of both father and son grew sad and disquieted. Isaak
Todros visited the members of the sect very seldom--only when there
was a question of some important religious matter or transgression of
rules. And even such rare calls were only paid to the most prominent
and influential members of the community. Poor people surrounded the
Rabbi's cabin, ready to rush in at a sign from him in inexpressible
joy or fear.

Rabbi Isaak Todros was an ascetic and he despised mammon, but he did
not reject all possible signs of respect the people desired to show
him, and they who were familiar with his thoughts and sentiments knew
that he was very fond of these signs, and would even demand them
imperiously in case anyone thought to dispense with or diminish them.
For that reason all the poor population, and everyone who wished to
win his special favour, called him "Prince," addressing him as
"Nassi." Therefore his passage through the town on all occasions was
an important and curious event for the population, and was performed
with quiet, dignified ceremony. A couple of hours before noon Saul
Ezofowich, standing before the window of his parlour, looked with a
certain amount of trouble at the retinue passing slowly across the
square. All the members of his family, robed in holiday dresses, with
a solemn expression on their faces, looked also, holding themselves
in readiness to welcome this high dignitary of the community at the
threshold of their residence. Through the square, from the school, a
throng of people dressed in black advanced toward the house of the
Ezofowich. In the middle, bent as always, in shabby clothes, with his
rough shirt unbuttoned showing the yellow neck, marched Isaak Todros,
with his usual swift, noiseless quiet pace.

On either side was an official of the Kahal--the small, lithe Reb
Jankiel, with his white, freckled face and fiery red beard, and David
Calman, one of the dignitaries of the town. Morejne, a rich cattle
merchant, tall, stiff, and dignified, with hands in the pockets of
his satin halat and a sweet smile of satisfaction on his fat lips,
walked near. Behind these three people, and on both sides, were
several others more or less humble and smiling. The whole crowd was
preceded by Reb Moshe, in such a way that he faced the Rabbi and ha