"Give me time—till to-morrow," he pleaded. "I may perhaps find a way out of it."
"How can you find a way?" they exclaimed. "Allow me not to answer you till to-morrow," repeated Meir.
They nodded and became silent. It was mute consent.
In all their hearts fear and anger were struggling with family pride. They felt angry with Meir, yet trembled for his fate, and the very thought that a member of their family should humble himself publicly before the Rabbi and the people seemed unbearable.
"Who knows," whispered Raphael, "he may find a way to avoid it?"
"Perhaps his mother will appear to him in his sleep and tell him what to do," sighed Sarah.
The belated dinner, passed off in gloomy silence, interrupted only by the sighs of women and a smothered sob from the children, who had been forbidden to laugh and chatter.
The grieved and mournful faces looked now and then at Freida, who showed an unusual restlessness. She did not speak, neither did she doze during the meal; but moved uneasily in her chair, looked at Meir, then at the shattered window, and in the middle of the room on the spot where the stone had fallen.
"What ails her?" asked the members of the family of each other, in a perturbed voice.
"She is recalling something to her mind," others replied. "She is afraid of something. She wants to speak, but cannot find words."