The two young men remained completely isolated. No one could hear their conversation. It seemed that Leopold had no intention of starting a conversation with Meir. He went toward the window with quite a different motive, which was betrayed by his taking from his pocket a silver cigarette case. But Meir, when he saw the young man approach him, advanced a few steps. His face beamed with joy.
"I am Meir, Saul's grandson," said he, extending his hand to the guest. "I wish very much to make your acquaintance, to tell you many things, and ask you many things."
Leopold bowed to him elegantly but ceremoniously, and barely touched Meir's warm hand. Meir's eyes, which had been bright with joy, now saddened.
"You don't care to know me," said he, "and I don't wonder at it. You are an educated man, and I—am a simple Jew, who knows the Bible and Talmud well, but nothing more. But listen to me, at any rate! I have thoughts of many things, but they are not yet in order. Perhaps you can tell me how to become wise?"
Leopold listened to these words, vibrating first with youthful enthusiasm, with anxiety in which there was a shade of irony.
"Willingly," said he, "if you wish to learn something from me I will be glad to tell you. Why not? I can tell you many things, sir!"
"Leopold, don't call me 'sir.' It hurts me, for I love you very much."
Leopold was surprised at this simplicity of sentiment.
"I am glad of it!" said he; "but it's the first time we have met."
"It doesn't matter!" exclaimed Meir; "for a long time I have wished to meet such an Israelite as you are, and say to him, as Rabbi Eliezer said to the sage in Jerusalem, 'Let me be your pupil, and be you my teacher.'"