"Hush!" exclaimed Saul, in a low voice. "Be quiet; do not say a word more. I can guess the rest."
The old man's hands trembled, and his shaggy eyebrows bristled in a heavy frown.
Meir was silent, and looked with expectant eyes at his grandfather.
"Your mouth has spoken what is not true. It cannot be true."
"Zeide!" whispered Meir, "it is as true as the sun in heaven. Have you not heard, zeide, of the incidents that happened last year and last year but one? These incidents are getting more and more numerous, and every true Israelite deplores it and reddens with shame."
"How can you know all this? How can you understand these things? I do not believe you."
"How do I know and understand it? Zeide, I have been brought up in your house, where many people come to see you: Jews and Christians, merchants and lords, rich and poor. They talked with you and I listened. Why should I not understand?"
Saul was silent, and his troubled countenance betrayed many conflicting thoughts. A sudden anger toward the grandson stirred his blood.
"You understand too much. You are too inquisitive. Your spirit is full of restlessness, and you carry trouble with you wherever you go. I felt so happy to-day until my eye fell upon you, and black care entered with you into the room."
Meir hung his head.