But, in the same moment, Hersh Ezofowich standing at the door of the meeting house, put his white hand into the pocket of his satin halat, raised his head, covered with a costly beaver cap, and not less loudly than the Rabbi, but in a different voice, he called:
"Hoffnung! Hoffnung! Frieden!"
"Hope! Hope! Happiness!" repeated after him, timidly, his not very numerous followers, with a sidelong glance at the Rabbi. But the old Rabbi's hearing was good, and he heard the cry. His white beard shook, and his dark eyes flashed lightning in Hersh's direction.
"They will order us to shave our beards and wear short dresses!" he exclaimed, painfully and angrily.
"They will make our minds longer and broaden our hearts!" answered
Hersh's sonorous voice.
"They will put us to the plough and order us to cultivate the country of exile!" shouted Rabbi Nohim.
"They will open for us the treasures of the earth, and they will order her to be our fatherland!" screamed Hersh.
"They will forbid us kosher," cried Rabbi.
"They will make of Israel a cedar tree instead of a hawthorn!" answered Hersh.
"Our son's faces will be covered with beards before they may marry!"