And it seemed to Issachar that Shammai's wail was the lament of the whole people of Israel and, perhaps, of all mankind from the beginning to the end of time.
Walking past Shammai, he entered a dark and narrow room dimly lighted by two small lamps filled with mutton fat, one by the wall, on a wooden shelf with little clay idols of the gods Elohim, and another on the low brick platform with a block of stone on it that served as a table.
Eliav was having supper at that table with his two guests—Aviezer, a priest, and Naaman, a prophet.
Aviezer was a stout, important-looking man with red cheeks and a black beard. His luxurious dress of Phoenician patterned material was not very clean; a number of rings with imitation stones glittered on his fingers. He came to Sheol bringing alms for the prisoners from the rich Goshen merchants.
Naaman, a plumber and a prophet—nabi—was a little bald old man, gentle, shy and timid, with the kind and simple face of a poor Israelite labourer. He came from Thebes with Issachar.
There were other visitors present, but they sat at a distance and took no part in the supper or the conversation.
When Issachar saw his brother, a tall, round-shouldered, bony man, with a face so deeply lined that it seemed crumpled, everything else suddenly vanished from his eyes and he only saw this face—familiar, strange, pitiful, dear, and terrible.
"Ah, so you have arrived at last; I began to think you weren't coming," Eliav said, getting up.
Issachar went up to him and was going to embrace him when Eliav seized his hands with a quick movement and holding him back looked into his eyes with a laugh:
"Well, I should think we might embrace each Other, or is it beneath your dignity?" he said, as though it had been Issachar who held himself back.