"Reb Saul, a great honour and happiness is coming to you! Rabbi Isaak Todros, the perfect pious, and the first scholar in the world, will visit your house to-morrow!"
From the depths of the large parlour the voice of the old merchant, dried by age, but still strong, answered:
"I, Saul Ezofowich, my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren will await Rabbi Isaak's visit with great joy and great desire in our hearts. May he live a hundred years!"
"May he live a hundred years!" repeated the dark figure, and disappeared.
The door was closed. Old Saul was sitting on the sofa, reading from Zohar, but he could not understand its deep explanations in spite of the utmost mental strain, for his mind was accustomed to secular business affairs. Suddenly his wrinkled forehead became gloomy and uneasiness shone in his eyes. He turned to his elder son, Raphael, who sat at a table near by, balancing his books, and asked:
"Why is he coming here?"
Raphael shrugged his shoulders, as a sign that he did not know.
"Has he any reason for picking a quarrel?" asked the old man again.
Raphael, raising his face from his books, said:
"He has."