"What! you would restore her to Brody?" cried the elder brother—"to bring the wrath of Heaven upon so godly a town. Be you who you may, saint or devil, that is beyond your power. Her husband assuredly will not take her back. With her family she cannot live."
"Then she shall live with mine," said the Shochet. "My daughter dwells in Brody. I will take her to her. Go your ways."
They stood disconcerted. Presently the younger said: "How know we are not leaving her to greater shame?"
The old man's face grew terrible.
"Go your ways," he repeated.
They slunk off, and I watched them get into a two-horsed carriage, which I now perceived on the other side of the copse. I ran forward to give an arm to the woman, who was again half-fainting.
"Said I not," said the old man musingly, "that even the worst sinners are better than these Rabbis? So blind are they in the arrogance of their self-conceit, so darkened by their pride, that their very devotion to the Law becomes a vehicle for their sin."
We helped the woman gently into the cart. I climbed in, but the old man began to walk with the horse, holding its bridle, and reversing its direction.
"Aren't you jumping up?" I asked.
"We are going up now, instead of down," he said, smiling. "Brody sits high, in the seat of the scornful."