"Shmul," said Meir angrily, "it is true. When I look at your misery, and the misery of your families, I should like to turn things upside down."
"Ai! ai!" cried the impressible and lively Shmul, holding his head with both hands. "I would not believe what the people said of you, and called them liars; but now I see myself that you are a bad Israelite, and the covenant and customs of your forefathers are no longer dear to you."
Meir started, and drew himself up.
"Who dares to say that I am a bad Israelite?" he exclaimed.
Shmul's excited face took a quieter but more solemn expression, and he came close to Meir. Nobody would hear him, as the inmates of the room had gone into the street, and Johel retired into his corner to finish his meal. All the same, he spoke in an impressive whisper, as if about to disclose a terrible secret.
"Morejne, it is no use asking who said it. People whisper, like the leaves on a tree. Who is to say which special leaf has whispered, or which mouth? Everybody speaks ill of you. They say you break the Sabbath, read accursed books, sing abominable songs, and incite young men to rebellion, that you do not pay due respect to the learned and wealthy members of the community, and,"—here he seemed to hesitate, and added in a still lower voice—"and that you live in friendship with the Karaitish girl."
Meir listened like one turned to stone. He had grown very pale, and his eyes were flashing.
"Who dames to say that?" he repeated in a choking voice.
"Morejne!" replied Shmul, waving both hands, "you were sent for a week into the Bet-ha-Midrash to do penance. When the poor people in this street heard of it, there was a great commotion. Some wanted to go to your grandfather Saul and to the Rabbi to ask them not to put you to shame. The woodcutter Judel wanted to go, the carrier Baruch—well, the tailor Shmul, too. But soon afterwards people began to talk, and we heard why you had been punished; then we remained quiet, and said to each other: He is good and charitable, never proud with poor people, and has helped us often in our misery; but if he keeps not the covenant, his grandfather Saul is right to punish him."
He stopped at last, out of breath with his rapid speech, and Meir fixed his penetrating eyes upon him, and asked: