"I will track her down. Ah, you are afraid," I said mockingly. "You see it is not true that she is content to be immolated." "It is true," they muttered. "True as the Torah," added the elderly man. "Then there is no harm in her telling me so." "You may bear her off on your horse," said he of the goitre. "I will go on foot. Let her bid me go away, and I will leave Zloczszol." Again they looked at one another, and the relief in their eyes brought heart-sinking into mine. Yes, it was true. Bethulah was in the glow of a great surrender; she was still tingling with the revelation of her supreme destiny. To put her to the test now would be fatal. No; let her have time to meditate; ay, even to disbelieve. "To-morrow you shall speak with her, and no man shall know," said the oldest _Chassid_. "No, not to-morrow. In a week or two." "Ah, you wish to linger among us," he replied suspiciously. "I will go away till the appointed day," I replied readily. "Good. Continue your travels. Let us say a month, or even two." "If you will not spirit her away in my absence." "It is as easy to do so in your presence." "So be it." "Shall we say--the eve of Chanukah?" he suggested. It was my turn to regard him suspiciously. But I could see nothing to cavil at. He had merely mentioned an obvious date--that of the next festival landmark. Chanukah--the feast of rededication of the Temple after the Grecian pollution--the miracle of the unwaning oil, the memorial lighting of lights; there seemed nothing in these to work unduly upon the girl's soul, except in so far as the inspiring tradition of Judas Maccabæus might attach her more devotedly to her conceptions of duty and self-dedication. Perhaps, I thought, with a flash of jealous anger, they meditated a feast of rededication of her after the pollution of my presence had been removed. Well, we should see. "The eve of Chanukah," I agreed, with a nonchalant air. "Only let the place be where I first met her--the path 'twixt mountain and river as you go to the cemetery." That would at least be a counter-influence to Chanukah! As they understood none of the subtleties of love, they agreed to this, and I made them swear by the Name. When they went their way I stood pondering on the bridge, my empty pistol drooping in my hand, till sky and river glowed mystically as with blood, and the chill evening airs reminded me that November was nigh. VII I got to Warsaw and back in the time at my disposal, but not all the freshness and variety of my experiences could banish the thought of Bethulah. There were days when I could absorb myself in the passing panorama, but I felt always, so to speak, in the ante-chamber of the great moment of our third and decisive meeting.