"Bring him here," commanded the lady, and the child was lifted into the carriage and placed on the seat before them.
"What a pretty lad," said the lady, who was no less important a person than the Countess Drentell, of Lubny, to her companion. "The poor child must be badly hurt."
"Perhaps a little brandy would strengthen him," suggested the practical coachman, who knew the value of the remedy.
The cordial revived him, and, opening his eyes, he murmured: "Wait for me, Mendel; I will go along."
"Drive on, Ivan, as quickly as possible; we must get the little fellow some dry clothes," said the Countess.
Yielding to the luxury of shelter and to the effect of the brandy, Jacob sank into a sweet sleep.
Mendel had in the meantime reached the village and knocked at the first house. A moujik emerged and eyed him suspiciously. "What do you want?" he asked, gruffly.
"We have been caught in the storm and my brother is out on the road, dying. Please help me bring him here."
"You are a Jew, are you not?" asked the man, savagely, as he recognized by the boy's jargon that he was a member of the proscribed race.
"Yes, sir," answered Mendel, timidly.