“And—Rabbi—Mayer?”
“He devised the plan.”
She uttered a shriek as if her heart had suddenly been pierced, breathed heavily and shut her eyes. A moment later she asked, with her eyes still closed, “Did Rabbi Mayer, too, desire to know the fortitude of my heart against sinful love?”
And Simeon answered weakly, wearily:
“At first he flew into a fury against the students for their doubts as to your virtue, but afterwards their mistrust became his mistrust.”
Beruriah, astounded, groaned with pain, and Simeon continued his account:
“‘The apple is wondrous fair,’ said Rabbi Mayer, ‘but who can say what passes in its heart?’”
Beruriah moaned, more heavily grieved than ever. And Simeon, mercilessly, indifferently, wearily added, “And he said, ‘What does one do to learn whether the beautiful apple is sound at the core? He cuts it open——’”
Beruriah turned, wincing as if under knives, and suddenly wailed in a voice that was not her own, “Go!” Then she rushed into her room, her eyes closed, stupefied, stunned.
And Simeon went forth upon his way, slowly, exhaustedly, his head bowed and his limbs heavy, like one who has been banished into exile,—homeless and forlorn.