A blight seemed to fall on the lips of Reb Monash. They turned sick and grey. The colour spread along his cheeks. His eyes grew wider and dark and very sorrowful. Neither he nor his son seemed aware that Dorah had advanced to the boy, her teeth showing large between her lips, that she lifted her hand to strike him, but the hand had failed suddenly, and she had sunk on a stool, sobbing. The eyes of Reb Monash still rested full on his son's, but his chin drooped lower on his breast. When he spoke, his voice echoed the raw dry tones that had left Philip's mouth.
"God knows, Feivele!" he said. "Perhaps thou hast right!"
His head shook unsteadily for some moments, then fell forward and downward like a lead weight.
"He's fainted!" shrieked Dorah.
"He's fainted!" Channah echoed. Dorah turned fiercely on Philip. Her fingers clawed the air.
"What have I done?" Philip said. "What was I saying?"
They flung the door open. Some one fumbled at the window frantically for a minute or two, then realized that the window could not open. With quick sobs of alarm Channah threw water into Reb Monash's face, while Dorah held his head to the air.
Reb Monash opened his eyes. "Where's Feivele?" he asked faintly.
"Here!" the boy whispered.
"Feivele!" said his father. "Feivele, let it be over! It has lasted too long!"