"Shmul!" said the young men.
"Hush!" said Meir, in a low voice, jumping down from the bench. "Let nobody utter the name of the miserable man, so as not to bring him into danger. I have been standing here to watch for his return. Go away from here, and remember that your eyes have not seen Shmul coming from that direction, not seen—"
"You are right," whispered Aryel; "he is our poor brother,"
"Poor brother, poor, poor!" they repeated all round.
They dispersed at once. Near the hut remained only Meir and Eliezer, whom nothing could rouse from his stupor.
Shmul ran into the hut, now deserted by every one except the blind mother and the smallest children.
There he threw himself at full length upon the floor and beat his forehead in the dust; sobbing and moaning, he uttered in broken sentences:
"I am not guilty, not guilty, not guilty. I did not fire it. I did not hold the vessel full of oil. He, Johel, did it all; I stood on watch in the fields—when I saw the fire—Ai! ai! I understood what I had been doing—"
"Hush!" said a low, sorrowful voice close to the despairing, almost senseless, man. "Hold your tongue, Shmul, till I shut the door and window."
Shmul raised his face, but again dropped it on the dusty floor.