"True as the Torah," added the elderly man.
"Then there is no harm in her telling me so."
"You may bear her off on your horse," said he of the goitre.
"I will go on foot. Let her bid me go away, and I will leave Zloczszol."
Again they looked at one another, and the relief in their eyes brought heart-sinking into mine. Yes, it was true. Bethulah was in the glow of a great surrender; she was still tingling with the revelation of her supreme destiny. To put her to the test now would be fatal. No; let her have time to meditate; ay, even to disbelieve.
"To-morrow you shall speak with her, and no man shall know," said the oldest Chassid.
"No, not to-morrow. In a week or two."
"Ah, you wish to linger among us," he replied suspiciously.
"I will go away till the appointed day," I replied readily.
"Good. Continue your travels. Let us say a month, or even two."