"Shmul, dog faith!" cried Repa.
But Shmul made no answer. He swayed backward and forward, prayed on.
Then Repa began to feel of himself, as every peasant does who has slept a night in a drinking-house. He felt the money.
"Jesus, Mary! but what is this?"
Meanwhile, Shmul had finished praying; he removed the shroud and cap, put them away in the room, then returned with slow step, important and calm.
"Shmul!"
"Well, what dost thou want?"
"What money is this that I have here?"
"Knowest not, stupid fellow? Thou didst agree last night with the mayor to take the place of his son; thou didst take the money and sign an agreement."
Repa became as pale as a white wall; then he threw his cap on the floor, dropped onto it, and roared till the window-panes rattled.