sorrow and the breadth of shadow that lay upon him. By noon of the day
following the night of Ruth's death, Israel knew that he was to be left
alone. It was a rule of the Mellah that on notice being given of a death
in their quarter, the clerk of the synagogue should publish it at the
first service thereafter, in order that a body of men, called the Hebra
Kadisha of Kabranim, the Holy Society of Buriers, might straightway make
arrangements for burial. Early prayers had been held in the synagogue
at eight o'clock that morning, and no one had yet come near to Israel's
house. The men of the Hebra were going about their ordinary occupations.
They knew nothing of Ruth's death by official announcement. The clerk
had not published it. Israel remembered with bitterness that notice
of it had not been sent. Nevertheless, the fact was known throughout
Tetuan. There was not a water-carrier in the market-place but had taken
it to each house he called at, and passed it to every man he met. Little
groups of idle Jewish women had been many hours congregated in the
streets outside, talking of it in whispers and looking up at the
darkened windows with awe. But the synagogue knew nothing of it.
Israel had omitted the customary ceremony, and in that omission lay the
advantage of his enemies. He must humble himself and send to them. Until
he did so they would leave him alone.

Israel did not send. Never once since the birth of Naomi had he crossed
the threshold of the synagogue. He would not cross it now, whether in
body or in spirit. But he was still a Jew, with Jewish customs, if he
had lost the Jewish faith, and it was one of the customs of the Jews
that a body should be buried within twenty-four hours, at farthest, from
the time of death. He must do something immediately. Some help must be
summoned. What help could it be?

It was useless to think of the Muslimeen. No believer would lend a hand