Then Ali knew him and cried, “God save us! What has happened?”
“What has happened here?” said Israel. “Naomi,” he faltered, “what of her?”
“Then you have heard?” said Ali. “Thank God, she is now well.” Israel laughed—his laugh was like a scream.
“More than that—a strange thing has befallen her since you went away,” said Ali.
“What?”
“She can hear.”
“It’s a lie!” cried Israel, and he raised his hand and struck Ali to the floor. But at the next minute he was lifting him up and sobbing and saying, “Forgive me, my brave boy. I was mad, my son; I did not know what I was doing. But do not torture me. If what you tell me is true, there is no man so happy under heaven; but if it is false, there is no fiend in hell need envy me.”
And Ali answered through his tears, “It is true, my father—come and see.”
Naomi has gained her hearing in an illness, and it is with suffering that she learns to bear sound. It is long before she can speak. Israel has sorrowed at her suffering and almost reproached God with her dumbness. A plague of locusts is eating up everything off the face of the land. The Jews in vain beseech the Almighty to send His floods, and then turn their thoughts to the sinner among them whom they believe to be drawing down God’s wrath on their nation. They select Israel and assemble with the purpose of putting him to death. Walking in the town he stumbles across the people who are crowded together expecting him.
With a loud shout, as if it had been a shout out of one great throat, the crowd encompassed Israel, crying, “Kill him!” Israel stopped, and lifted his heavy face upon the people; but neither did he cry out nor make any struggle for his life. He stood erect and silent in their midst, and massive and square. His brave bearing did not break their fury. They fell upon him, a hundred hands together. One struck at his face, another tore at his long grey hair, and a third thrust him down on to his knees.