During the moments of rest Ben-Tovit consoled himself with the
thought of the little donkey, and he dreamed of him, and when he felt
worse he moaned, scolded his wife, and threatened to dash his head
against a rock if the pain should not subside. He kept pacing back
and forth on the flat roof of his house from one corner to the other,
feeling ashamed to come close to the side facing the street, for his
head was tied around with a kerchief like that of a woman. Several
times children came running to him and told him hastily about Jesus
of Nazareth. Ben-Tovit paused, listened to them for a while, his
face wrinkled, but then he stamped his foot angrily and chased them
away. He was a kind man and he loved children, but now he was angry
at them for bothering him with trifles.

It was disagreeable to him that a large crowd had gathered in the
street and on the neighbouring roofs, doing nothing and looking
curiously at Ben-Tovit, who had his head tied around with a kerchief
like a woman. He was about to go down, when his wife said to him:

"Look, they are leading robbers there. Perhaps that will divert you."

"Let me alone. Don't you see how I am suffering?" Ben-Tovit
answered angrily.

But there was a vague promise in his wife's words that there might
be a relief for his toothache, so he walked over to the parapet
unwillingly. Bending his head on one side, closing one eye, and
supporting his cheek with his hand, his face assumed a squeamish,
weeping expression, and he looked down to the street.

On the narrow street, going uphill, an enormous crowd was moving