Golda's face was all aflame, and her eyes were full of tears.
"Do you find my story beautiful?" asked Meir. "Yes; beautiful indeed!" she answered, and with her head leaning on the palm of her hand she balanced her slender figure to and fro for a while, as if under the influence of ecstasy and drowsiness. Suddenly she grew pale, and drew herself up.
"Meir," she exclaimed, "if you were Akiba, and I the daughter of the rich Kolba Sabua, I would do for you the same as the beautiful Rachel did for him!"
She seized her superb tresses, black as ebony, which hung carelessly down her back, and twisting it around her head, she said:
"I have exactly the same black crown as Rachel!" Then she raised her deep, fiery eyes to Meir, and said boldly, gravely, without a smile, blush, or exaltation:
"Meir, for you I would take my eyes out of my head! I would not have any use for them if I could not look at you."
A strong flush covered the young man's face, but it was not mere bashfulness, but emotion. The girl was so naive—so wild, and at the same time so beautiful, with her luxuriant, dishevelled tresses piled above her forehead, and with passionate words on her grave and daring lips.
"Golda," said Meir, "I will come to your house and pay a visit to your old grandfather."
"Come," said she; "with you there will enter into our house a great light."
The sun had almost set behind the high scarlet and purple clouds. A little pond shone from beyond the high osiers. In that direction Golda's looks went, and stopped at the water and surrounding bushes.