pulpit, but on the street you saw that his back was bent
just the least bit in the world--or perhaps it was only his
student stoop, as he walked along with his eyes on the
ground, smoking those slender, dapper, pale brown cigars
that looked as if they had been expressly cut and rolled to
fit him.

The evening service was at seven. The congregation,
rustling in silks, was approaching the little temple from
all directions. Inside, there was a low-toned buzz of
conversation. The Brandeis' seat was well toward the rear,
as befitted a less prosperous member of the rich little
congregation. This enabled them to get a complete picture
of the room in its holiday splendor. Fanny drank it in
eagerly, her dark eyes soft and luminous. The bare, yellow-
varnished wooden pews glowed with the reflection from the
chandeliers. The seven-branched candlesticks on either side
of the pulpit were entwined with smilax. The red plush
curtain that hung in front of the Ark on ordinary days, and
the red plush pulpit cover too, were replaced by
gleaming white satin edged with gold fringe and finished at
the corners with heavy gold tassels. How the rich white
satin glistened in the light of the electric candles! Fanny
Brandeis loved the lights, and the gleam, and the music, so
majestic, and solemn, and the sight of the little rabbi,
sitting so straight and serious in his high-backed chair, or
standing to read from the great Bible. There came to this
emotional little Jewess a thrill that was not born of
religious fervor at all, I am afraid.