“The gates creaked softly; the rustling of long coats was heard, touching the stones and shrubbery; finally a vague white figure appeared and slipped by like a shadow along the pathways.
“This figure knelt before one of the tombstones; three times it touched the stone with its forehead and softly whispered a prayer.
“Along the path leading from the gates came an old man, bent, limping, sighing and coughing. He came over to the ancient tombstone, and lowered himself on his knees near the white figure that had entered before him, and he, too, whispered a prayer.
“Then heavy footsteps were heard, and a tall, impressive figure appeared on the road, clad in a white mantle, and he, too, fell down on his knees, as though unwillingly, in front of the tombstone.
“Thirteen times this was repeated. Thirteen old men came over to the tombstone. The doctor counted them, but he could not understand whether they were alive or dead. A shiver crept down his back, his heart began to beat faster from fright. He involuntarily recalled the terrible legend of the Day of Atonement in the tenth month, Tishri, in the synagogue of Posen when, during the prayer of Kol Nidrei, the congregation kept growing larger and larger; unknown people, pushing one another, wrapped in prayer shawls, came in, one hundred after another, until the terrified Rabbi lifted his hand as if to curse and exclaimed: ‘He who has flesh in his cheeks, let him throw off the prayer shawl!’ Hundreds remained covered, and when the prayer shawls were torn away from them, all saw the skulls of the dead who had come out of the graves to celebrate the Day of Atonement with the rest of the congregation.
“As there, it seemed to him that the prayer shawls had fallen off the heads of the praying old men, and a row of dead skulls appeared. At that moment the clock struck twelve, A sharp metallic sound rang out on the grave, after which a blue flame appeared and illumined the thirteen kneeling figures.
“‘I greet you, Roshe beth Aboth (heads) of the twelve tribes of Israel,’ announced a dull voice.
“‘We greet you, son of the accursed.’
“‘A hundred years have already passed. Where have the Nesiyim (princes of the tribes) come from?’
