look full of fire to the remotest borders of heavenly loneliness, and whispered with quivering lips,—
"If Thou exist! Thou art great and good."
Notwithstanding the condition set up before this statement, that for Yosef was very much.
He recognized greatness and goodness. He said, "If Thou art." If those words had been spoken about some being, they would be conditional; spoken to some being they were an affirmation of existence: "Thou art."
In spite of all his realism let us not wonder so much at these words. The lips which pronounced them had drunk freshly from the cup of ecstasy.
When Yosef reached home, Augustinovich was sleeping in the best fashion possible; his snoring was heard even on the stairway. He drew out the song of slumber, now short, now long, now lower, now higher, now puffing, now blowing, now whistling.
Yosef roused him.
He determined finally to embrace him.
Augustinovich stared at him with astonished eyes, and at the first moment cried,—
"Go to the—"
Yosef laughed joyously.
