Silent and asleep the old man sat with his thin face to the sun and his hair moved.
Vermin swarmed through it creeping, crawling, tiny and infinitesimal.
Every strand was palpitating, shuddering under their mysterious energy.
At first Moisse could hardly make them out but his eyes gradually grew accustomed to the sight. And as he watched he saw the hair swell like waves riding over the water, saw it drop and flutter, coil and uncoil of its own accord.
Vermin raised it up, pulled it out, streaming up and down tirelessly in vast armies.
They crawled furiously like dust specks blown thick through the white beard.
They streamed and shifted and were never still.
They moved in and out, from no place to no place, but always moving, frantic, and frenzied.
An old woman passed and with a shake of her head dropped two pennies into the upturned hat. Moisse hardly saw her. He saw only the palpitating swarms that were now racing, easily visible, through the grey white hair.
Some ventured down over the white ascetic face, crawling in every direction, traveling around the lips and over the closed eyes, emerging suddenly in thick streams from behind the covered ears and losing themselves under the ever moving beard.