'Do not be so childish yourself, my crown!'
'But I am not childish. Hark!'
He smiled calmly. 'The door must be opened.'
Her fears lent her scepticism. 'It is you that are childish. You know no Prophet of Redemption will come through the door.'
He caressed his venerable beard. 'Who knows?'
'I know. It is a Destroyer, not a Redeemer of Israel, who will come. Listen! Ah, God of Abraham! Do you not hear?'
Unmistakably the howl of a riotous mob was approaching, mingled with the reedy strains of an accordion.
'Down with the Zhits! Death to the dirty Jews!'
'God in heaven!' She released her husband, and ran towards the children with a gesture as of seeking to gather them all in her arms. Then, hearing the bolts shot back, she turned with a scream. 'Are you mad, Aaron?'
But he, holding her back with his gaze, threw wide the door with his left hand, while his right upheld Elijah's goblet, and over the ululation of the unseen mob and the shrill spasms of music rose his Hebrew welcome to the visitor: 'Baruch habaa!'