"He could not have hidden it in the wails of the house, for he knew that they would rot, and that they would be destroyed, and new ones built. These walls I have built myself, and I carefully searched the old ones, but there was no writing."
"There was not," repeated Freida sorrowfully.
"He could not have hidden it in the roof, because he knew it would not be safe there. When I was born there was perhaps the tenth roof built over our house, but it seems to me that the writing could not have been there. Where is it?"
Both were thoughtful. All at once, after a while, the woman exclaimed:
"Hersh, I know where the writing is!"
Her husband raised his head. His wife was pointing to the large library filled with books, which stood in a corner of the room.
"There?" said Hersh, hesitatingly.
"There," repeated the woman, with conviction. "Have you not told me that these are Michael Senior's books, and that all the Ezofowichs have preserved them, but no one has read them because Todros would not permit the reading of books."
Hersh passed his hand over his forehead, and the woman spoke further.
"Michael the Senior was a wise man, and he saw the future. He knew that for a long time no one would read those books, and that only the one who would read them would be that great-grandson who would find his writings."