EEB SHLOIMEH 341
for the cause to which he had devoted himself. He is no longer conscious of the whereabouts of his limbs, he feels his head growing heavier, his feet cold, and it is dark before his eyes.
When he came to himself again, he was in bed; on his head was a bandage with ice; the old wife was lamenting; the teachers stood not far from the bed, and talked among themselves. He wanted to lift his hand and draw it across his forehead, but somehow he does not feel his hand at all. He looks at it it lies stretched out beside him. And Eeb Shloimeh under- stood what had happened to him.
"A stroke !" he thought, "I am finished, done for !"
He tried to give a whistle and make a gesture with his hand : "Verfallen !" but the lips would not meet properly, and the hand never moved.
"There you are, done for!" the lips whispered. He glanced round, and fixed his eyes on the teachers, and then on his wife, wishing to read in their faces whether there was danger, whether he was dying, or whether there was still hope. He looked, and could not make out anything. Then, whispering, he called one of the teachers, whose looks had met his, to his side.
The teacher came running.
"Done for, eh?" asked Reb Shloimeh.
"No, Reb Shloimeh, the doctors give hope," the teacher replied, so earnestly that Reb Shloimeh's spirits revived.
"Nu, nu," said Reb Shloimeh, as though he meant, "So may it be ! Out of your mouth into God's ears !"
The other teachers all came nearer.
