Evidently she did not want to complain, or it may be her mind was too full of other things to heed it much.
"Meir," she said, "you have been in great trouble yourself lately?"
Meir sat down upon the bench outside and leaned his head upon his hand with a weary sigh.
"The greatest trouble and grief fell upon me to-day when I found that the people had turned away from me. Their former friendship has changed into ill feeling, and those that confided in me suspect me now of evil."
Golda hung her head sadly, and Meir went on:
"I do not know myself what to do. If I follow the promptings of my heart, my people will hate and persecute me. If I act against my conscience I shall hate myself and never know peace and happiness.
Whilst I was sitting in the Bet-ha-Midrash I had almost made up my mind to let things be, and to try and live in peace with everybody; but when I had left the Ha-Midrash my temper again got the better of me, and rescuing a poor child I offended the melamed, and through him the elders and the people. That is what I have done to-day. Arid when I come to think of it, it seems to me a rash, useless act, as it will not prevent the melamed from destroying the poor children's health and intelligence. What can I do? I am alone, young, without a wife and family, or any position in the world. They can do with me what they like, and I can do nothing. They will persecute my friends until they desert me; they have already begun to injure and insult you, because you gave me your heart and joined your voice with mine on the meadow. I shall only bring unhappiness to you; perhaps it would be better to shut my eyes and ears to everything, and live like other people."
His voice became lower and lower, and more difficult from the inward struggle with doubts and perplexities.
Both remained silent for a few minutes, when suddenly a strange noise, seemingly from the other side of the hill, reached their ears.
First it sounded faint and distant, like the passing of many wheels upon a soft and sandy soil. It grew louder by degrees, till the grating of wheels and stamping of many human feet could be heard quite distinctly. All this amidst the dark silence of the night gave it a mysterious, almost unreal appearance.
Meir stood straight up and listened intently.
"What is that?" he asked.
"What can it be?" said Golda, in her quiet voice.
It seemed as if a great many carts were passing on the other side of the hill.
"I thought something rumbled and knocked inside the hill," said Golda.
Indeed, it sounded now like human steps inside the hill, and as if some heavy weights were being thrown down. There was fear in Meir's face. He looked intently at Golda.
"Shut the window, and bolt your door," he said quickly; "I will go and see what it is!"
It was evident that he feared only on her account. "Why should I fasten either window or door? A strong hand could easily wrench them open."
Meir went round the base of the hill, and soon found himself on the other side. What he saw there filled him with the greatest astonishment.
In a half-circle, upon the sandy furrows, stood a great many carts laden with casks of all sizes. Around the carts a great many people were moving--peasants and Jews. The peasants were busy unload-the carts and rolling the casks into a cavern, which either nature or human hands had shaped in the hill.
The Jews, who were flitting in and out among the carts and looking at the casks, or sounding them with their knuckles, finally crowded round a man who stood leaning his back against the side of the hill, and a low-voiced, but lively discussion followed. Among the Jews, Meir recognised several innkeepers of the neighbourhood, and in the man with whom they conversed, Jankiel Kamionker. The peasants whose task it was to unload the carts preserved a gloomy silence. A strong smell of alcohol permeated the air.
The astonishment of Meir did not last long. He began to see the meaning of the whole scene, and seemingly had made up his mind what to do, as he moved a few steps in Jankiel Kamionker's direction.
He had not gone far when a huge shadow detached itself from a projection of the hill and barred the way.
"Where are you going, Meir?" whispered the man.
"Why do you stop me from going, Johel?" replied Meir, as he tried to push him aside.
But Johel grasped him by the coat tails.
"Do you no longer care for you life?" he whispered. "I am sorry for you, because you are good and charitable; take warning and go at once."
"But I want to know what Reb Jankiel and his innkeepers are going to do with the casks," persisted Meir.
"It does not concern you," whispered Johel. "Let neither your eyes see nor your ears hear what Reb Jankiel is doing. He is engaged in a big business; you will only hinder him. Why should you stand in his way? What will you gain by it? Besides, what can you do against him?"
Meir remained silent, and turned in another direction.
"What can I do?" he whispered to himself; with quivering lips.
Passing near Abel Karaim's hut, he saw Golda still standing at the window. He nodded to her.
"Sleep in peace."
But she called out to him:
"Meir, here is a child sitting on the floor asleep."
He came nearer and saw, close to the bench where he had been sitting, the crouching figure of a child.
"Lejbele!" he said, wonderingly. He had not seen the lad, who had quietly followed him and sat down close to him.
"Lejbele!" repeated Meir, and he put his hand upon the child's head.
He opened a pair of half-unconscious eyes and smiled.
"Why did you come here?" asked Meir, kindly.
The child seemed to collect his thoughts, and then answered:
"I followed you."
"Father and mother will not know what has become of you."
"Father sleeps, and mother sleeps," began Lejbele, rocking his head; "and the goats are sleeping," he added after a while, and at the remembrance of those, his best friends, he laughed aloud.
But from Meir's lips the slight smile had vanished.
He sighed and said, as if to himself:
"How shall I act? What ought I to do?"
Golda, with her hands crossed above her head, looked thoughtfully up to the starry sky. After a while she whispered timidly:
"I will ask zeide; zeide is very learned; he knows the whole Bible by heart."
"Ask him," said Meir.
The girl turned her head towards the dark interior, and called out: