They barred his way. The women clung around his shoulders and knees.
"They will kill you, father!" they moaned.
Suddenly the raging tumult ceased. Instead yells, a low murmur passed from mouth to mouth.
"The shamos! the shamos! the shamos!" It was indeed the same man who, silent and motionless, had sat on the steps of the Be-ha-Kahol waiting for orders, and who now approached the house of Ezofowich to proclaim the sentence of the tribunal before the family of the accused. The crowd, stirred by ardent curiosity to hear the sentence, pressed close to the windows, in which not a single pane of glass remained. Others, scattered over the square and in the neighbouring streets, drew nearer, and surrounded the house like a dark, living wall. The door of the house was opened and shut again, and the shamos entered the sitting-room.
He looked anxiously, almost suspiciously around, and bowed very low before Saul.
"Peace be with you," he said in a low voice, as if he himself felt the bitter irony of the greeting.
"Reb Saul," he began, in a somewhat more assured voice, "do not be angry with your servant if he brings shame and misfortune into your house. I obey the commands of the Rabbi, the elders, and the judges who sat in judgment upon your grandson Meir, and whose sentence I am ordered to read out to him and you all."
A deep silence followed upon his words. At last Saul, who stood leaning upon the shoulder of his son Raphael said in a low voice:
"Read."
The messenger unrolled the paper he was holding in his hand, and read: