whose short-sighted eyes began to look fixedly into the darkness.
“‘Come out into the street, Joel, somebody wants to talk to you!’
“‘O, God of Justice,’ said the watchman with amazement, as he came out of the door,—‘One of the trustees! What is your pleasure to command me?’
“‘This Rabbi desires to make a brief prayer in the cemetery; he is leaving to-morrow morning by train.’
“‘In the cemetery? This evening? But you know yourself, Mr. Banker, that I am forbidden to open the gates after sunset, and to-night is also the holy Sabbath.’
“‘First of all, there is no need for you to shout here about my calling,’ replied the banker, displeased. ‘Every Jewish rag-picker will know that banker Rosenberg was here to see you. As for the permit to open the gates, I myself, as a trustee, authorize you to do it. I will wait here until he has completed his prayer. The company in your house must not know what we are doing here. Arrange it so that the curious crowd will not rush in there.’
“The watchman disappeared in the house, but soon returned with a bunch of keys and opened the gates of the cemetery. He took a lantern along and was about to light it.
“‘Don’t!’ said the Rabbi in a low voice. ‘I don’t need any light. Lock the gates from the inside!’
“‘But, Mr. von Rosenberge—’
“‘Lock it, I say!’
“The watchman obeyed.
“‘Now lead me to the grave of the holy Rabbi Simeon-ben-Yehudah!’
“‘Hold on to my coat, esteemed sir,’ said the watchman. ‘It is dark and you may stumble over the old graves.’
“‘I can see better at night than in the daytime, my son!’ answerd the learned Polish Jew.
“‘Here is the grave!’
“The old Rabbi reverently leaned over the tombstone. The watchman heard him pronounce a prayer in Jewish. He used so many words of ancient Hebrew, or some other words of a language he did not understand, that he knew only a few separate expressions, although he himself had been in the past a teacher at the Bohemian community.
“Having completed his prayer, the stranger turned to the watchman of the cemetery:
