ed it. And when the two hundred years were ended,
my father, Hersh, found it. Where he found it no one but our old
great-grandmother knows."

Here he pointed to his mother, and then finished:

"And she alone knows where he hid that writing, but as yet she has
told no one."

"And why did she tell no one?" laughed maliciously and softly the
melamed.

Saul answered in a sad voice:

"Reb Nohim Todros--may his memory be blessed--has forbidden her to
speak of it."

"And you, Reb Saul, why have you not searched for that writing
yourself?"

Saul answered still more sadly:

"Reb Baruch Todros, the son of Reb Nohim and Reb Isaak--may he live a
hundred years--the son of Reb Baruch, have forbidden me to search for
it!"

"And no one dare search for it!" exclaimed the melamed with all his
might, raising his hand armed with a fork, "nobody dare search for
that writing, because it is full of blasphemy and filth. Reb Saul!
You must forbid your children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren
to search for that writing, and in case they find it they must give
it up to the fire to be destroyed! For the one who shall find that
writing, and shall read it aloud to the people--upon that one shall
the herem fall. He shall be cast out from the bosom of Israel. Thus
spake Reb Nohim and Reb Baruch--may their memory be blessed! Thus
spake Reb Isaak--may he live a hundred years. In that writing is
excommunication and great misfortune to the one who shall find it."

A deep silence followed those words, spoken with the greatest
enthusiasm by the melamed, and amidst this silence was heard a long,
trembling passionate sighing. All looked around, desiring to learn
from whose breast proceeded that noise as of the tearing out of
desire, but no one could discover whence it came. They only perceived
that Meir, with rigid figure, pale face and burning eyes was gazing
into the great-grandmother's face. She, feeling the piercing look of
her beloved child, raised her wrinkled eyelids and said:

"Meir?"

"Bobe?" answered the young man, in a voice filled with caressing
tenderness.

"Kleineskind!" whispered the great-grandmother and, smiling sweetly,
she began to slumber again.

The Sabbath feast was near its end when an incident occurred which
would have appeared very strange to any foreign eye, but was an
ordinary sight to those gathered there.

Reb Moshe, whose dark cheeks burned from the effects of several
glasses of wine hospitably poure