A pang of shame traversed my breast. What! I was riding and this fine old fellow was walking! But ere I could offer to get down, a new thought increased my confusion. I, who was bent on finding the Baal Shem, was now off on a side-adventure to Brody. And yet I was loath to part so soon with my new friend. And besides, I told myself, Brody was well worth a visit. The reputation of its Talmudical schools was spread over the kingdom, and although I shared the old man's repugnance to them my curiosity was alert. And even on the Baal Shem's account I ought to go there. For I remembered now that his early life had had many associations with the town, and that it was his wife's birthplace. So I said, "How far is Brody?"
"Ten miles," he said.
"Ten miles!" I repeated in horror.
"Ten miles," he said musingly, "and ten years since I set foot in Brody."
I jumped down. "'Tis I must walk, not you," I said.
"Nay," said he good-humoredly. "I perceive neither of us can walk. Those sacks must play Jonah. Out with them."
"No," I said.
"Yes," he insisted, laughing. "Did I not say Satan was determined to spoil my Passover? The third time I shall have better luck perhaps."
I protested against thus causing him so much loss, and offered to go and find the Baal Shem alone, but he rolled out the flour-bags, laughing, leaving one for the woman to lie against.
"But your wife will be expecting them," I remarked, as the cart proceeded with both of us in our seats.