Lilith
(Concluded)
IV.
The wise, but irascible old Rabbi of Rumelia, called “The Diviner,” stood in his house-of-study at twilight and gazed out upon the road thro the open Jatticed window. His eyes were eagle-sharp and they gazed thro his bushy eyebrows like birds in a deep nest. And he saw that it was not well with the world. For Rabbi Joel was a diviner.
The branches of the tree standing without trembled and beat against the window-sill and the dust whirled on the road and the raindrops fell. And the lightning flashed and there was a peal of thunder and the earth was covered with purple darkness. And the Rabbi peered into the darkness and murmured, “Will he go by to-night?” And he asked, “Why must I endure this, Oh Lord? For the fathers have not eaten sour grapes; wherefore should the children’s teeth be set on edge?” And he sighed, for there was no answer. But the sigh was the impersonal sigh of a great rabbi; not because of his private grief but because the Shechinah had departed from the exiled House of Israel and all hopes withered.
The Rabbi prayed, and as he prayed there came the sound of hoof-beats, and suddenly there shot forth a man on horseback, riding fast. And the lightning darted again into the sky, and the Rabbi saw that the horse was foam-flecked and he that rode was his son, with wasted, greenish features and eyes that stared with a joy that was not human.
The old man leaned out and cried hoarsely, "Halt, thou sinner!" But he that rode paused not but rushed on.
And when the white-bearded Rabbi, sighing deep, turned again, a woman kneeled moaning before him in his room. And she suckled her child; and her hair swept the floor and her tears coursed down her cheeks. And she clutched at the Rabbi’s gaberdine saying. “Help me, Rabbi, or T shall die!”
And the Rabbi beheld her, and he fingered his beard with his thin, trembling hand and thought, "Woe is me! How shall I advise her?"
Now a stern old man was the Rabbi Joel. He had a certain dry humor on occasion, but his firm, straight lips seldom relaxeld. Only his eyes smiled for himattimes. His learning, penetration and stern justice were known for miles around. In fact, the Rabbi of Rumelia, called also “The Diviner,” had an international reputation in Southern Europe. He was so old, so frail, so stern and uncompromising, and yet the Jewish community was absolutely devoted to him, even the most heterodox. People came to him to exorcise spirits and to pray for the safe return of strayed cattle. His invariable protest that the präyer of the afflicted was of more value than his own was received with fond incredulity and he would generally end by praying with the applicant. Even the belligerents with whom the country was rife respected his house. A refugee of whatever race who rushed into his home always found sanctuary if the Rabbi had his way. The one discordant note in his life, that his only son should run off to the gay capital of Austria, was a blow which the old man tried hard to conceal, and no one dared refer to the matter in his presence,
It was a good thing, therefore, for Eva that she was but dimly aware of these things, or she never could have taken the old Rabbi by storm as she did, with her little baby boy in her arms, some days before.
And Eva gazed up at him with her large tear-filled eyes and sobbed and buried her head in the skirts of his garb. And the aged Rabbi asked her gently, “How did he leave thee to-night, IEva, my daughter?”
"He did not leave me, for he does not come to me more, Rabbi, since last I spoke to you," said Eva, and she wept quietly.
And the aged Rabbi, sighing again, took down one of the great old tomes which