Eliezer stood with his head hanging down dejectedly.
"I no longer have the book," he said, in a low voice.
"Where is it?" asked Meir.
"The book which brought us light and comfort is no more. The fire has devoured it, and its ashes are scattered to the winds."
"Eliezer!" burst out Meir, "have you got frightened and burned it?"
"My hands could never have committed the deed; even had my mouth commanded it, they would not have obeyed. A week ago my father came to me in great fury and ordered me to give up the accursed book we had been reading on the meadow. He shouted at me, 'Have you that book?' I said, 'I have.' He then asked me, 'Where is it?' I remained silent. He looked as if he would have liked to beat me, but did not dare, on account of my position in the synagogue, and the love people bear me. He then ransacked the whole room, and at last found it under the pillow. He wanted to carry it to the Rabbi, but I knelt before him and begged him not to do so, as he would not allow me to sing any more, and would deprive me of people's love, and of my singing. Father seemed struck by my remark, for he is proud that a son of his, and one so young in years, holds such a position, and he thinks, also, that, when his son sings and prays before the Lord, the Lord will prosper him in his business, and forgive all his sins. So he did not take the book to the Rabbi, but thrust it into the fire, and, when it burned and crackled, he leaped and danced for joy."
"And you, Eliezer, you looked on and did nothing?"
"What could I do?" whispered the singer.
"I should have put the book on my breast, protected it with my arms, and said to my father, 'If you wish to burn it, burn me with it.'"
Meir said this with indignation, almost anger, against his friend.