In the morning, when the gravedigger came home from his sad vigil, he went to see the sick child. On seeing her, he shook his head. The mother wrung her hands in despair when she saw his gesture, and gave utterance to a low moan. He pitied her, and said slowly: "It isn't a dangerous kind of fever. Lea will soon be well."
"Tell me the truth," cried Miriam; "but I shall send for the doctor whether the illness is dangerous or not."
The gravedigger shrugged his shoulders. "The doctor has been at the muster at Zalesczyki for the last eight days. But even if he were here.... No doctor can help the child!"
"Must she die?" asked Miriam.
"No doctor, I say," answered the gravedigger slowly, "but a holy rabbi might save her. Old Moses Freudenthal's funeral is to take place to-day, and our rabbi is going to attend. Ask him to see the child, and bless it. He is a holy man—perhaps he is strong enough to save it, and perhaps he will give you advice."
So saying, he went away to prepare the grave. His wife followed him.
"I may as well dig two graves," said he, as he struck his spade into the ground.
"You mean for the child?" asked his wife. "Poor Miriam—God spare her!..."
"Yes," he answered, "it makes my heart ache. But no man can save her. They say that the Great Death is coming again. God will spare us. He will only take the 'child of atonement' that we have delivered up to Him."
"In God's name," cried the woman, "why should an innocent life be taken."