YOM KIPPUR 201
Not far from him sat a grey-haired old Jew, huddled together, enfolded in a Tallis and robe, repeating Psalins with a melancholy chant and a broken, quavering voice.
Berel caught the words :
"Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: For the end of that man is peace. But the transgressors shall be destroyed together: The latter end of the wicked shall be cut off ... "
Berel looked round in a fright: Where is he? He had quite forgotten that he had remained for the night in the house-of-study. He gazed round with sleepy eyes, and they fell on some white heaps wrapped in robes and prayer-scarfs, while from their midst came the low, hoarse, tearful voices of two or three men who had not gone to sleep and were repeating Psalms. Many of the candles were already sputtering, the wax was melting into the sand, the flames rose and fell, and rose again, flaring brightly.
And the pale moon looked in at the windows, and poured her silvery light over the fantastic scene.
Berel grew icy cold, and a dreadful shuddering went through his limbs.
He had not yet remembered that he was spending the night in the house-of-study.
He imagined that he was dead, and astray in limbo. The white heaps which he sees are graves, actual graves, and there among the graves sit a few sinful souls, and bewail and lament their transgressions. And he, Berel, cannot even weep, he is a fallen one, lost forever he is condemned to wander, to roam everlastingly among the graves.
