.

And the Rabbi begins to speak.

His weak voice grows stronger and higher every minute, and at last it is
quite loud.

He speaks of the sanctity of the Day of Atonement and of the holy Torah;
of repentance and of prayer, of the living and of the dead, and of the
pestilence that has broken out and that destroys without pity, without
rest, without a pause--for how long? for how much longer?

And by degrees his pale cheeks redden and his lips also, and I hear him
say: "And when trouble comes to a man, he must look to his deeds, and
not only to those which concern him and the Almighty, but to those which
concern himself, to his body, to his flesh, to his own health."

I was a child then, but I remember how I began to tremble when I heard
these words, because I had understood.

The Rabbi goes on speaking. He speaks of cleanliness and wholesome air,
of dirt, which is dangerous to man, and of hunger and thirst, which are
men's bad angels when there is a pestilence about, devouring without
pity.

And the Rabbi goes on to say:

"And men shall live by My commandments, and not die by them. There are
times when one must turn aside from the Law, if by so doing a whole
community may be saved."

I stand shaking with fear. What does the Rabbi want? What does he mean
by his words? What does he think to accomplish? And suddenly I see that
he is weeping, and my heart beats louder and louder. What has happened?
Why does he weep? And there I stand in the corner, in the silence, and I
also begin to cry.

And to this day, if I shut my eyes, I see him standing on the platform,
and he makes a sign with his hand to the two Dayonim to the left and
right of him. He and they whisper together, and he says something in
their ear. What has happened? Why does his cheek flame, and why are
theirs as white as chalk?

And suddenly I hear them talking, but I cannot understand them, because
the words do not enter my brain. And yet all three are speaking so
sharply and clearly!

And all the people utter a groan, and after the groan I hear the words,
"With the consent of the All-Present and with the consent of this
congregation, we give leave to eat and drink on the Day of Atonement."

Silence. Not a sound is heard in the Shool, not an eyelid quivers, not a
breath is drawn.

And I stand in my corner and hear my heart beating: one--two--one--two.
A terror comes over me, and it is black before my eyes. The shadows move
to and fro on the wall