Into the inmost centre of the very heart of his father's faith, the faith of those innumerable dead who for the many centuries had looked upon this day as the climax of their childhood in Jehovah, upon this _Yom Kippur_ whose mere utterance was a fear and a great light, into the synagogue's self, at the very doors of the Holy Ark where lay the Law pregnant with history, he had introduced ... the "wedded Maid," the "heaven-born Child" ...! Down from his father's eyes it seemed that two actual shafts of flame descended into his own eyes, burning like an acid through the pupils beyond the sockets, into the grey stuff of his brain. A sweat stood upon Philip's forehead, and a chill then seemed to hold it there, like a circle of ice. The fire in his father's eyes shrivelled; there came a hollow shadow of unutterable pain; a sigh fell weakly from his lips. He staggered towards the door for air. He returned and said, "My son, throw it away, throw thyself away! Let me not see thee again!" Philip hid the book among the dilapidated Prayer Books at a corner of the women's section and returned to his _machzer_. Not once did his father's eye meet his own during the rest of the day. When Reb Monash and his wife were proceeding homewards after the fast and Philip made a movement as to accompany them, Reb Monash stared with cold eyes and motioned him to stand away. The end had come. Channah sitting with wet eyes on a corner of the sofa knew it. Mrs. Massel in the scullery lifting her apron to her eyes and sobbing ever so quietly knew it. Philip in the darkness of the empty _chayder_ with his head between his hands knew it. Reb Monash knew it, breaking his fast in the kitchen, saying not a word. The next morning Reb Monash turned to Mrs. Massel. Philip was in the room. "He must go somewhere! He cannot sleep here to-night! He has broken me, let him not stay to laugh in my face!" "What can he do? Where can he go?" "I know not! He must go!" There was no doubting the finality of his command. Not a word passed between Philip and his father. Mrs. Massel dared not trust herself to utter a sound until Reb Monash had gone upstairs for his afternoon nap. "_Nu_, Feivele," she ventured then, "seest thou what has befallen us? God knows I have not too many years to see thee in ... and now this black year! _Schweig den, schweig_, Feivel! What shall be with us?" Channah realized that it lay with her to take the initiative. "Mother," she urged, "all will be well! You mustn't upset yourself like this! The thing we've to talk about now is what we're going to do with Philip!" "Yes, what?" Philip asked helplessly. "We've understood for a long time it was going to end up like this, there was nothing else for it. We were talking about it only last week. She said..." "Who said, Channah? Who do you mean?"